 | Englands Helicon |  |
To his Flocks.
Burst
foorth my teares, assist my forward greefe,
And shew what paine imperious loue prouokes
Kinde tender Lambs, lament Loues scant releefe,
And pine, since pensiue care my freedome yoakes,
Oh pine, to see me pine, my tender Flocks.
And shew what paine imperious loue prouokes
Kinde tender Lambs, lament Loues scant releefe,
And pine, since pensiue care my freedome yoakes,
Oh pine, to see me pine, my tender Flocks.
Sad pyning care, that neuer may haue peace,
At Beauties gate, in hope of pittie knocks:
But mercie sleepes, whose deepe disdaines encrease,
And Beautie hope in her faire bosome yoakes:
Oh greeue to heare my greefe, my tender Flocks.
At Beauties gate, in hope of pittie knocks:
But mercie sleepes, whose deepe disdaines encrease,
And Beautie hope in her faire bosome yoakes:
Oh greeue to heare my greefe, my tender Flocks.
Like to the windes my sighs haue winged beene,
Yet are my sighs and sutes repaide with mocks:
I pleade, yet she repineth at my teene,
O ruthlesse rigour, harder then the Rocks,
That both the Sheepheard kills, and his poore Flocks.
Yet are my sighs and sutes repaide with mocks:
I pleade, yet she repineth at my teene,
O ruthlesse rigour, harder then the Rocks,
That both the Sheepheard kills, and his poore Flocks.
FINIS.
| Englands Helicon | |