 | Il pastor fido
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A Sonnet of the Translator, dedicated to that honourable Knight
his kinsman, Syr Edward Dymock.
A silly hand hath fashiond vp a sute
Of English clothes vnto a traueller,
A noble minde though Shepheards weeds he weare,
That might consort his tunes with Tassoes lute,
Learned Guarinies first begotten frute,
I haue assum'd the courage to rebeare,
And him an English Denizen made here,
Presenting him vnto the sonnes of Brute.
If I haue faild t'expresse his natiue looke,
And be in my translation tax'd of blame,
I must appeale to that true censures booke
That sayes t'is harder to reforme a frame,
Then for to build from ground worke of ones wit,
A new creation of a noble fit.
| Il pastor fido
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