A Countrie Song

The lad Philisides
Lay by a riuer side,
In flowry field a gladder eye to please:
His pipe was at his foot,
His lambs were him beside,
A widdow turtle neare on bared root
Sate wayling without boot
Each thing both sweet and sad
Did draw his boyling braine
To thinke, and thinke with paine
Of Mira's beames, eclipst by absence bad
And thus, with eyes made dimme
With teares, he said, or Sorrow said for him:
O Earth, once answer giue,
So may thy stately grace
By North or South still rich adorned liue;
So Mira long may be
On thy then blessed face,
Whose foot doth set a heau'n on cursed thee;
I aske, now answer me,
If th' author of thy blisse,
Phaebus, that shepheard high,
Doe turne from thee his eye,
Doth not thy selfe, when he long absent is,
Like rogue, all ragged goe,
And pine away with daily wasting woe?
Tell me, you wanton brooke; —
So may your sliding race
Shun loathed-louing bankes with cunning crooke;
So in you euer new
Mira may looke her face,
And make you faire with shadow of her hue;
So when you pay your due
To mother sea you come,
She chide you not for stay,
Nor beat you for your play, —
Tell me, if your diuerted springs become
Absented quite from you,
Are you not dried? Can you your selues renew?
Tell me, you flowers faire,
Cowslop and Columbine; —
So may your Make this wholesome spring time ayre
With you embraced lie,
And lately thence vntwine:
But with dew drops engender children hie;
So may you neuer die,
But, pull'd by Mira's hand,
Dresse bosome hers, or head,
Or scatter on her bed; —
Tell me, if husband spring time leaue your land,
When he from you is sent,
Wither not you, languisht with discontent?
Tell me, my silly pipe; —
So may thee still betide
A cleanly cloth thy moistnesse for to wipe;
So may the cherries red
Of Mira's lips diuide
Their sugred selues to kisse thy happy head;
So may her eares be led —
Her eares where Musicke liues —
To heare and not despise
Thy lyribliring cryes; —
Tell if that breath, which thee thy sounding giues,
Be absent farre from thee,
Absent alone canst thou, then, piping be?
Tell me, my lambe of gold; —
So maist thou long abide
The day well fed, the night in faithfull folde;
So grow thy wooll of note
In time, that, richly dy'd,
It may be part of Mira's petticote, —
Tell me, if wolues the throte
Haue caught of thy deare damme,
Or she from thee be stayd,
Or thou from her be strayd,
Canst thou, poore lambe, become another's lamme?
Or rather, till thou die,
Still for thy dam with bea-waymenting crie?
Tell me, O turtle true; —
So may no fortune breed
To make thee nor thy better-loued rue;
So may thy blessings swarme,
That Mira may thee feede
With hand and mouth, with lap and breast keepe warme, —
Tell me if greedie arme
Doe fondly take away,
With traytor lime, the one,
The other left alone, —
Tell me, poore wretch, parted from wretched pray,
Disdaine not you the greene,
Wayling till death, shun you not to be seene?
Earth, brooke, flowrs, pipe, lambe, doue
Say all, and I with them,
Absence is death, or worse, to them that loue.
So I, vnluckie lad,
Whom hilles from her doe hemme,
What fits me now but teares and sighings sad!
O fortune, too too bad!
I rather would my sheepe
Tha'dst killed with a stroke,
Burnt cabin, lost my cloke,
Than want one howre those eyes which my ioyes keepe.
O, what doth wailing winne?
Speech without end were better not beginne.
My song, climbe thou the wind,
Which Ciprus sweet now gently sendeth in,
That on his wings the leauell thou maist find
To hit, but kissing hit
Her ears the weights of wit
If thou know not for whom thy Master dies,
These markes shall make thee wise:
She is the heardesse faire that shines in darke,
And giues her kids no food, but willow's barke
This said, at length he ended
His oft sigh-broken dittie,
Then raise, but raise on legs with faintnesse bended,
With skinne in sorow died,
With face the plot of pitie,
With thoughts, which thoughts, their owne tormentors, tried
He rose, and streight espied
His ramme, who to recouer
The ewe another loued,
With him proud battell proued.
He enuied such a death in sight of louer,
And alwaies westward eying,
More enuied Phaebus for his westerne flying.
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