Classic Poem

Come shepheard's weeds, become your Master's minde,
Yeeld outward shew, what inward change be tryes;
Nor be abasht, since such a guest you finde,
Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes.
Come shepheard's weeds, attend my wofull cryes.
Disuse your selues from sweet Menalcas' voyce;
For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes,
From those cleere notes which freely may reioyce.
Then poure out plaint, and in one word say this: —
Helplesse his plaint, who spoiles himselfe of blisse.