Classic Poem

Past 3.

Who can liue in heart so glad
As the merrie countrie lad?
Who vpon a faire greene balke
May at pleasures sit and walke?
And amidde the Azure skies,
See the morning Sunne arise?
While hee heares in euery spring,
How the Birdes doe chirpe and sing:
Or, before the houndes in crie
See the Hare goe stealing by:
Or along the shallow brooke.
Angling with a baited hooke:
See the fishes leape and play
In a blessed Sunny day:
Or to heare the Partridge call
Till shee haue her Couye all:
Or to see the subtill foxe,
How the villaine plies the box:
After feeding on his pray,
How he closely sneakes away,
Through the hedge and downe the furrow
Till he geets into his burrowe.
Then the Bee to gather honey,
And the little blacke-haird Cony
On a banke for Sunny place,
With her fore-feete wash her face:
Are not these with thousandes moe,
Then the Courts of Kinges doe knowe?
The true pleasing spirits sights,
That may breede true loues delightes
But with all this happinesse,
To beholde that Shepheardesse,
To whose eyes all Shepheards yeelde
All the fairest of the fielde,
Faire Aglaia in whose face,
Liues the Shepheard's highest Grace:
In whose worthy wonder praise,
See what her true Shepheard saies
Shee is neither proude nor fine
But in spirit more diuine:
Shee can neither lower nor leere
But a sweeter smiling cheere:
She had neuer painted face
But a sweeter smiling grace:
Shee can neuer loue dissemble,
Truth doth so her thoughts assemble
That where wisdome guides her will
Shee is kind and constant still,
All in summe she is that creature
Of that truest comfortes Nature,
That doth shewe (but in exceedinges)
How their praises had their breedings:
Let then poetts faine their pleasure
In their fictions of loue's treasure:
Proud high spirits seeke their graces
In their Idoll painted faces:
My loue's spirit's lowlinesse
In affections humblenesse,
Vnder heau'n no happines
Seekes but in this Shepheardesse
For whose sake I say and sweare
By the passions that I beare
Had I got a Kinglie grace,
I would leaue my Kinglie place
And in heart be truelie glad:
To become a Country Lad.
Hard to lie, and goe full bare
And to feede on hungry fare:
So I might but liue to bee,
Where I might but sit to see,
Once a day, or all day long,
The sweet subiect of my song:
In Aglaiae's onely eyes,
All my worldly paradise