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TO HIS FLOCKS.
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xiii

TO HIS FLOCKS.

Feede on, my Flocks, securely,
Your Sheepheard watcheth surely.
Runne about, my little Lambs,
Skip and wanton with your Dammes,
Your loving Heard with care will tend ye.
Sport on, faire flocks, at pleasure,
Nip Vesta's flowring treasure;
I my self will duely harke,
When my watchfull dogge dooth barke,
From Woolfe and Foxe I will defend ye.