 | The Shepherd's Garden |  |
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COUNTRY CONTENTMENTS.
Who simple faith doth hold his guest,
And more than turmoil, loveth rest,
Let him forsake all noisy cares,
And come and breathe these country airs.
And more than turmoil, loveth rest,
Let him forsake all noisy cares,
And come and breathe these country airs.
For silk and pearl, we ask not them,
Whom every bud doth bring a gem;
Our fleecy flocks to us do bear
The useful garments that we wear.
Whom every bud doth bring a gem;
Our fleecy flocks to us do bear
The useful garments that we wear.
Our board is laid with herbs that grow
Where silver fountains fall and flow;
Our cows with milk, our streams with fish,
Supply the banquet that we wish.
Where silver fountains fall and flow;
Our cows with milk, our streams with fish,
Supply the banquet that we wish.
The pretty strawberry so sweet
Doth fit our appetite with meat:
The orient peach and purple plum
To crown our festive triumph come.
Doth fit our appetite with meat:
The orient peach and purple plum
To crown our festive triumph come.
The proudest she that wears a gown
Might gladly to this fare come down,
For here sweet Love doth make his feast
Of wholesome food with smilings drest.
Might gladly to this fare come down,
For here sweet Love doth make his feast
Of wholesome food with smilings drest.
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Here jolly Momus leads his rout,
And trolls his merry catch about:
With mirth and laughter all agree
Beneath the shade of some wide tree.
And trolls his merry catch about:
With mirth and laughter all agree
Beneath the shade of some wide tree.
Above our heads the bleeding vine
Doth drop our cups with purple wine,
And tendrilled leaves and branches brings
To crown us monarchs more than kings.
Doth drop our cups with purple wine,
And tendrilled leaves and branches brings
To crown us monarchs more than kings.
Then, when our feasting we have sped,
Some roam the flower-enamelled mead,
And some go forth to dance and play;
Thus keep our rural holiday:
Some roam the flower-enamelled mead,
And some go forth to dance and play;
Thus keep our rural holiday:
Until the evening star doth rise,
And blossoms close their weary eyes,
Then, pleased, exchange a calm good-night,
To wake at morn with new delight.
And blossoms close their weary eyes,
Then, pleased, exchange a calm good-night,
To wake at morn with new delight.
| The Shepherd's Garden | |