A Sheapherd who noe care did take
1.
A sheapherd who noe care did take
Of aught butt of his flock
Whose thoughts noe pride cowld higher make
Then to maintaine his stock,
Whose sheepe his love was, and his care,
Theyr good his best delight,
The lambs his joye, theyr sport his fare,
His pleasure was theyr sight,
2.
Till love, an envier of mans blis
Did turne this merry lyfe
To teares, to wishes which ne're miss
Incombrances with strife,
For wheras hee was best content
With looking on his sheepe:
His time in woes must now bee spent,
And broken is his sleepe;
3.
Thus first his woefull chang began
A lambe hee chanc'd to miss
Which to find out about hee ran
Yett finds nott wher itt is,
Butt as hee past O! fate unkind
His ill lead him that way
Wheras a willow tree behind
A faire young mayden lay;
4.
Her bed was on the humble ground
Her hed upon her hand
While sighs did show her hart was bound
In lov's untying band,
Clear tears her cleerest eyes lett fall
Upon her love borne face
Which heavnly drops did sorrow call
Prowd wittnes of disgrace;
5.
The sheapherd stayd, and fed his eyes
Nor furder might hee pas
But ther his freedome to sight ties
His bondage his joye was.
His lambe hee deems nott haulf soe faire
Though itt were very white,
And liberty hee thinks a care
Nor breathes butt by her sight,
6.
His former lyfe is alterd quite,
His sheep feed in her eyes,
Her face his field is of delight,
And flocks hee doth dispise,
The rule of them hee leaves to none
His scrip hee threw away,
And many hee forsakes for one,
One hee must now obay:
7.
Unhapy man whose loosing found
What better had bin lost
Whose gaine doth spring from such a grownd
Wherby hee must bee crost,
The worldly care hee now neglects
For Cupids service ties
Care only to his fond respects
Wher wavelike treasure lies,
8.
As this lost man still gazing stood
Amased att such a sight
Immagining noe heavnly food
To feed on butt her sight
Wishing butt her beams to behold
Yett grievd hee for her griefe
When mournfully hee did unfolde
Her woes without reliefe.
9.
His new sun rose, and rising sayd
Farwell faire willow tree
The roote of my estate decayd
The fruit for haples mee,
What though thy branch a signe be made
Of labor lost in love?
Thy beauty doth noe sooner vade
Then those best fortunes prove;
10.
My songs shall end with willow still,
Thy branches I will weare:
Thou wilt accompany my ill,
And with mee sorrow beare,
True freind sayd she, then sigh'd, and turn'd,
Leaving that restles place,
And sheapheard who in passions burn'd
Lamenting his sad case;
11.
This mayd now gon, alone he left,
Still on her foot steps gaz'd,
And hartles growne by love bereft
Of mirth, in spiritt raysed,
To satisfy his restles thought
Hee after her will hy,
His ruin to bee sooner brought,
And sooner harme to try,
12.
Then thus his latest leave hee tooke,
My sheepe sayd hee farwell,
Lett som new sheapherd to you looke
Whose care may mine excell,
I leave you to your freedome now
Loves lawes soe fast mee bind
As noe time I can you allow;
Or goe poore flock, and find
13.
The mayd whom I soe deerly love;
Say itt was her deere sight
Which from your keepe doth me remove,
And kills my first delight,
Goe you my dog who carefull were
To guard my sheepe from harme,
Looke to them still noe care forbear
Though love my sences charme;
14.
Butt you my pipe that musique gave,
And pleasd my silent rest
Of you I company will crave
Our states now suteth best,
For if that faire noe pitty give
My dying breath shall cry
Through thee the paines wherin I live
Wherby I breathe to dy;
15.
Madly hee ran from ease to paine
Nott sick yett far from well,
Hart rob'd by two faire eyes, his gaine
Must prove his worldly hell,
After his hart hee fast doth hy,
His hart to her did fly,
And for a byding place did cry,
Within her brest to ly;
16.
She that refus'd: when hee her spide
Her whom hee held most deere
Ly weeping by a rivers side
Beholding papers neere.
Her ruling eyes must yett bee dimd
While pearlike tears she shed
Like shadowes on a picture limd,
Att last thes words she read.
17.
When I unconstant am to thee
Or faulse doe ever prove,
Lett hapines bee banisht mee
Nor have least taste of love;
Butt this alas too soone cride she
Is (Ô) by thee forgott
My hopes, and joys now murderd bee,
And faulshood is my lott;
18.
Too late I find what t'is to trust
To words, or othes, or tears,
Since they that use them prove unjust,
And couler butt owr fears.
Poore fooles ordain'd to bee deceav'd;
And trust to bee betraide,
Scornd when owr harts ar us bereav'd
Sought to, awhile delay'd;
19.
Yett though that thou soe faulse hast bin
I still will faithful bee
And though thou think'st to leave, noe sin
I'le make my loyalty
To shine soe cleere as thy foule fault
To all men shalbee knowne,
Thy chang to thy changd hart bee brought,
My faith abroad bee blowne.
20.
This having sayd againe she rose
The papers putting by,
And once againe a new way chose
Striving from griefe to fly;
Butt as she going was along
That pleasant runing streame
She saw the sallow trees amonge
The sheapherd Aradeame.
21.
For soe this woefull lad was call'de,
But when she him beheld,
What wichcraft hath thee now inthralld,
And brought thee to this field?
What can the cause or reason bee
That thou art hether come
Wher all must taste of misery,
And mirth with griefe intombe?
22.
Iff mirthe must heere intombed bee
Faire sheapherdes sayd hee
This place the fittest is for mee
If you use crueltie,
For know I hether com to see
Your self, wherin now lies
My lyfe, whose absence martir'd mee
Whose sight my powre tyes.
23.
Give mee butt leave to live with you,
Itt is the lyfe I crave:
To you I bound am to bee true,
My lyfe to you I gave,
When first I did behold you ly
In shade of willow tree
That time, my soule did to you ty,
Those eyes did murther mee.
24.
Is this the reason? ah cride she
The more I waile your cace
Who thus partaker needs little bee
In griefe, and in disgrace,
I pitty you, butt can nott ayde
You, nor redress your ill
Since joy, and paine together payd
Scarce satisfies the will;
25.
Iff I doe ty you I release
The bond wherin you are,
Your freedome shall nott finde decrease
Nor you accuse my care,
The paine I have is all my owne
Non can of itt beare part,
Sorrow my strength hath overthrowne:
Disdaine hath kil'd my hart;
26.
And sheapherd if that you doe love
This counsell take of mee
This humour fond, in time remove
Which can butt torture thee,
Take itt from her who too too well
Can wittnes itt is soe,
Whose hope seem'd heav'n, yett prov'd a hell,
And comfort chang'd to woe.
27.
For I was lov'd, or soe I thought
And for itt lov'd againe,
But soone those thoughts my ruin brought,
And nourisht all my paine,
They gave the milk that fed beliefe
Till wean'd they proved dry,
Theyr latter nourishment was griefe
Soe famish'd I must dy;
28.
Then see your chance; I can nott chang
Nor my affection turne
Disdaine, which others move to rang
Makes mee more constant burne;
My sighs I'me sure can nott you please,
My griefe noe musique prove,
My flowing teares your passions ease,
Nor woes delight your love,
29.
Iff my sight have your freedome wunn
Receave itt back againe
Soe much my self I find undun
By guifts which prove noe gaine
As I lament with them that love
Soe true in love I ame,
And liberty wish all to prove
Whose harts waste in this flame,
30.
Yett give mee leave (sigh'd hee with tears)
To live butt wher you are,
My woes shall waite upon your fears,
My sighs attend your care,
I'le weepe whenever you shall waile,
If you sigh I will cry
When you complaine, I'le never faile
To waile my misery.
31.
I will you guard, and safely keepe
From danger, and from feare,
Still will I wach when you doe sleep,
And for both sorrows beare,
Make mee nott free I bondage crave
Nor seek els butt to serve,
This freedom will procure my grave,
Thes bonds my lyfe preserve.
32.
For lyfe, and joye, and ease, and all
Alas lies in your hands
Then doe nott cause my only fall,
I tyde ame in such bands.
Part hence I can nott, nor love leave,
Butt heer must ever byde
Then pitty lett my paine receave,
Doe nott from mercy slide;
33.
Iff that sayd she you constant are
Unto your coming ill
I'le leave this place yett lett all care
Accompany mee still;
And sheapherd live, and hapy bee,
Lett judgment rule your will,
Seeke one whose hart from love is free,
And who your joye may fill;
34.
For I lov's bondslave ame, and tyde
In fetters of disdaine:
My hopes ar frozen, my spring dri'de,
My sommer drownd with paine;
I lov'd, and wurse, I sayd I lov'd,
Free truth my ruin brought
And soe your speech the like hath mov'd,
And loss for gaining bought,
35.
With that away she hasted fast,
Left him his cares to hold
Who now to sorrow makes all hast,
Woes drive his hopes to fold,
Now hee can see, and weeping say
His fortune blind hee finds
A hart to harbour his decay,
A state which mischief binds.
36.
This now hee feels, and woefully
His birth, and lyfe hee blames,
Yett passion rules when reasons ly
In dark, or quenched flames;
That place hee first beheld her in
His biding hee doth make:
The tree his liberty did win
Hee calls his martir stake;
37.
And pleasingly doth take his fall,
His griefe accounts delight,
Freedome, and joye his bitter thrall,
His food her absent sight,
In contraries his pleasures bee
While mourning gives him ease,
His tomb shall bee that haples tree
Wher sorrow did him seaze.
38.
And thus did live, though dayly dide
The sheapherd Aradeame
Whose ceasles tears which never drid
Were turn'd into a streame
Him self the hed, his eyes the spring
Which fed that river cleere,
And to true harts this good doth bring
When they aproach itt neere;
39
And drinke of itt to banish quite
All ficle thoughts of chang
Butt still in one choyce to delight,
And never think to rang;
Of this sweet water I did drink
Which did such faith infuse
As since to change I can nott think
Love will death sooner chuse.
A sheapherd who noe care did take
Of aught butt of his flock
Whose thoughts noe pride cowld higher make
Then to maintaine his stock,
Whose sheepe his love was, and his care,
Theyr good his best delight,
The lambs his joye, theyr sport his fare,
His pleasure was theyr sight,
2.
Till love, an envier of mans blis
Did turne this merry lyfe
To teares, to wishes which ne're miss
Incombrances with strife,
For wheras hee was best content
With looking on his sheepe:
His time in woes must now bee spent,
And broken is his sleepe;
3.
Thus first his woefull chang began
A lambe hee chanc'd to miss
Which to find out about hee ran
Yett finds nott wher itt is,
Butt as hee past O! fate unkind
His ill lead him that way
Wheras a willow tree behind
A faire young mayden lay;
4.
Her bed was on the humble ground
Her hed upon her hand
While sighs did show her hart was bound
In lov's untying band,
Clear tears her cleerest eyes lett fall
Upon her love borne face
Which heavnly drops did sorrow call
Prowd wittnes of disgrace;
5.
The sheapherd stayd, and fed his eyes
Nor furder might hee pas
But ther his freedome to sight ties
His bondage his joye was.
His lambe hee deems nott haulf soe faire
Though itt were very white,
And liberty hee thinks a care
Nor breathes butt by her sight,
6.
His former lyfe is alterd quite,
His sheep feed in her eyes,
Her face his field is of delight,
And flocks hee doth dispise,
The rule of them hee leaves to none
His scrip hee threw away,
And many hee forsakes for one,
One hee must now obay:
7.
Unhapy man whose loosing found
What better had bin lost
Whose gaine doth spring from such a grownd
Wherby hee must bee crost,
The worldly care hee now neglects
For Cupids service ties
Care only to his fond respects
Wher wavelike treasure lies,
8.
As this lost man still gazing stood
Amased att such a sight
Immagining noe heavnly food
To feed on butt her sight
Wishing butt her beams to behold
Yett grievd hee for her griefe
When mournfully hee did unfolde
Her woes without reliefe.
9.
His new sun rose, and rising sayd
Farwell faire willow tree
The roote of my estate decayd
The fruit for haples mee,
What though thy branch a signe be made
Of labor lost in love?
Thy beauty doth noe sooner vade
Then those best fortunes prove;
10.
My songs shall end with willow still,
Thy branches I will weare:
Thou wilt accompany my ill,
And with mee sorrow beare,
True freind sayd she, then sigh'd, and turn'd,
Leaving that restles place,
And sheapheard who in passions burn'd
Lamenting his sad case;
11.
This mayd now gon, alone he left,
Still on her foot steps gaz'd,
And hartles growne by love bereft
Of mirth, in spiritt raysed,
To satisfy his restles thought
Hee after her will hy,
His ruin to bee sooner brought,
And sooner harme to try,
12.
Then thus his latest leave hee tooke,
My sheepe sayd hee farwell,
Lett som new sheapherd to you looke
Whose care may mine excell,
I leave you to your freedome now
Loves lawes soe fast mee bind
As noe time I can you allow;
Or goe poore flock, and find
13.
The mayd whom I soe deerly love;
Say itt was her deere sight
Which from your keepe doth me remove,
And kills my first delight,
Goe you my dog who carefull were
To guard my sheepe from harme,
Looke to them still noe care forbear
Though love my sences charme;
14.
Butt you my pipe that musique gave,
And pleasd my silent rest
Of you I company will crave
Our states now suteth best,
For if that faire noe pitty give
My dying breath shall cry
Through thee the paines wherin I live
Wherby I breathe to dy;
15.
Madly hee ran from ease to paine
Nott sick yett far from well,
Hart rob'd by two faire eyes, his gaine
Must prove his worldly hell,
After his hart hee fast doth hy,
His hart to her did fly,
And for a byding place did cry,
Within her brest to ly;
16.
She that refus'd: when hee her spide
Her whom hee held most deere
Ly weeping by a rivers side
Beholding papers neere.
Her ruling eyes must yett bee dimd
While pearlike tears she shed
Like shadowes on a picture limd,
Att last thes words she read.
17.
When I unconstant am to thee
Or faulse doe ever prove,
Lett hapines bee banisht mee
Nor have least taste of love;
Butt this alas too soone cride she
Is (Ô) by thee forgott
My hopes, and joys now murderd bee,
And faulshood is my lott;
18.
Too late I find what t'is to trust
To words, or othes, or tears,
Since they that use them prove unjust,
And couler butt owr fears.
Poore fooles ordain'd to bee deceav'd;
And trust to bee betraide,
Scornd when owr harts ar us bereav'd
Sought to, awhile delay'd;
19.
Yett though that thou soe faulse hast bin
I still will faithful bee
And though thou think'st to leave, noe sin
I'le make my loyalty
To shine soe cleere as thy foule fault
To all men shalbee knowne,
Thy chang to thy changd hart bee brought,
My faith abroad bee blowne.
20.
This having sayd againe she rose
The papers putting by,
And once againe a new way chose
Striving from griefe to fly;
Butt as she going was along
That pleasant runing streame
She saw the sallow trees amonge
The sheapherd Aradeame.
21.
For soe this woefull lad was call'de,
But when she him beheld,
What wichcraft hath thee now inthralld,
And brought thee to this field?
What can the cause or reason bee
That thou art hether come
Wher all must taste of misery,
And mirth with griefe intombe?
22.
Iff mirthe must heere intombed bee
Faire sheapherdes sayd hee
This place the fittest is for mee
If you use crueltie,
For know I hether com to see
Your self, wherin now lies
My lyfe, whose absence martir'd mee
Whose sight my powre tyes.
23.
Give mee butt leave to live with you,
Itt is the lyfe I crave:
To you I bound am to bee true,
My lyfe to you I gave,
When first I did behold you ly
In shade of willow tree
That time, my soule did to you ty,
Those eyes did murther mee.
24.
Is this the reason? ah cride she
The more I waile your cace
Who thus partaker needs little bee
In griefe, and in disgrace,
I pitty you, butt can nott ayde
You, nor redress your ill
Since joy, and paine together payd
Scarce satisfies the will;
25.
Iff I doe ty you I release
The bond wherin you are,
Your freedome shall nott finde decrease
Nor you accuse my care,
The paine I have is all my owne
Non can of itt beare part,
Sorrow my strength hath overthrowne:
Disdaine hath kil'd my hart;
26.
And sheapherd if that you doe love
This counsell take of mee
This humour fond, in time remove
Which can butt torture thee,
Take itt from her who too too well
Can wittnes itt is soe,
Whose hope seem'd heav'n, yett prov'd a hell,
And comfort chang'd to woe.
27.
For I was lov'd, or soe I thought
And for itt lov'd againe,
But soone those thoughts my ruin brought,
And nourisht all my paine,
They gave the milk that fed beliefe
Till wean'd they proved dry,
Theyr latter nourishment was griefe
Soe famish'd I must dy;
28.
Then see your chance; I can nott chang
Nor my affection turne
Disdaine, which others move to rang
Makes mee more constant burne;
My sighs I'me sure can nott you please,
My griefe noe musique prove,
My flowing teares your passions ease,
Nor woes delight your love,
29.
Iff my sight have your freedome wunn
Receave itt back againe
Soe much my self I find undun
By guifts which prove noe gaine
As I lament with them that love
Soe true in love I ame,
And liberty wish all to prove
Whose harts waste in this flame,
30.
Yett give mee leave (sigh'd hee with tears)
To live butt wher you are,
My woes shall waite upon your fears,
My sighs attend your care,
I'le weepe whenever you shall waile,
If you sigh I will cry
When you complaine, I'le never faile
To waile my misery.
31.
I will you guard, and safely keepe
From danger, and from feare,
Still will I wach when you doe sleep,
And for both sorrows beare,
Make mee nott free I bondage crave
Nor seek els butt to serve,
This freedom will procure my grave,
Thes bonds my lyfe preserve.
32.
For lyfe, and joye, and ease, and all
Alas lies in your hands
Then doe nott cause my only fall,
I tyde ame in such bands.
Part hence I can nott, nor love leave,
Butt heer must ever byde
Then pitty lett my paine receave,
Doe nott from mercy slide;
33.
Iff that sayd she you constant are
Unto your coming ill
I'le leave this place yett lett all care
Accompany mee still;
And sheapherd live, and hapy bee,
Lett judgment rule your will,
Seeke one whose hart from love is free,
And who your joye may fill;
34.
For I lov's bondslave ame, and tyde
In fetters of disdaine:
My hopes ar frozen, my spring dri'de,
My sommer drownd with paine;
I lov'd, and wurse, I sayd I lov'd,
Free truth my ruin brought
And soe your speech the like hath mov'd,
And loss for gaining bought,
35.
With that away she hasted fast,
Left him his cares to hold
Who now to sorrow makes all hast,
Woes drive his hopes to fold,
Now hee can see, and weeping say
His fortune blind hee finds
A hart to harbour his decay,
A state which mischief binds.
36.
This now hee feels, and woefully
His birth, and lyfe hee blames,
Yett passion rules when reasons ly
In dark, or quenched flames;
That place hee first beheld her in
His biding hee doth make:
The tree his liberty did win
Hee calls his martir stake;
37.
And pleasingly doth take his fall,
His griefe accounts delight,
Freedome, and joye his bitter thrall,
His food her absent sight,
In contraries his pleasures bee
While mourning gives him ease,
His tomb shall bee that haples tree
Wher sorrow did him seaze.
38.
And thus did live, though dayly dide
The sheapherd Aradeame
Whose ceasles tears which never drid
Were turn'd into a streame
Him self the hed, his eyes the spring
Which fed that river cleere,
And to true harts this good doth bring
When they aproach itt neere;
39
And drinke of itt to banish quite
All ficle thoughts of chang
Butt still in one choyce to delight,
And never think to rang;
Of this sweet water I did drink
Which did such faith infuse
As since to change I can nott think
Love will death sooner chuse.
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