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The Sheepheards sorrow, being disdained in loue.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Sheepheards sorrow, being disdained in loue.

Mvses helpe me, sorrow swarmeth,
Eyes are fraught with Seas of languish:
Haplesse hope my solace harmeth,
Mindes repast is bitter anguish.
Eye of day regarded neuer,
Certaine trust in vvorld vntrustie:
Flattering hope beguileth euer,
Wearie old, and wanton lustie.
Dawne of day beholds enthroned.
Fortunes darling proud and dreadlesse:
Darksome night dooth heare him moaned,
Who before was rich and needelesse.
Rob the Spheare of lines vnited,
Make a suddaine voide in nature:
Force the day to be benighted,
Reaue the cause of time and creature
Ere the world will cease to varie,
This I weepe for, this I sorrow:
Muses, if you please to tarie,
Further helpe I meane to borrow.
Courted once by Fortunes fauour,
Compast now with Enuies curses:


All my thoughts of sorrowes fauour,
Hopes runne fleeting like the Sourses.
Aye me, wanton scorne hath maimed
All the ioyes my hart enioyed:
Thoughts their thinking haue disdained,
Hate my hopes haue quite annoyed.
Scant regard my vveale hath scanted,
Looking coy, hath forc'd my lowring:
Nothing lik'd, where nothing wanted,
Weds mine eyes to ceaselesse showring.
Former loue was once admired,
Present fauour is estraunged:
Loath'd the pleasure long desired,
Thus both men and thoughts are chaunged.
Louely Swaine with luckie speeding,
Once, but now no more so friended:
You my Flocks haue had in feeding,
From the morne, till day was ended.
Drink and fodder, foode and folding,
Had my Lambs and Ewes together:
I with them was still beholding,
Both in warmth and Winter weather.
Now they languish, since refused,
Ewes and Lambs are pain'd with pining:
I with Ewes and Lambs confused,
All vnto our deaths declining.
Silence, leaue thy Caue obscured,
Daigne a dolefull Swaine to tender:
Though disdaines I haue endured.
Yet I am no deepe offender.


Phillips Sonne can with his finger
Hide his scarre, it is so little:
Little sinne a day to linger,
Wise men wander in a tittle.
Trifles yet my Swaine haue turned,
Though my Sunne he neuer showeth:
Though I weepe, I am not mourned,
Though I want, no pittie groweth.
Yet for pittie, loue my Muses,
Gentle silence be their couer:
They must leaue their wonted vses,
Since I leaue to be a Louer.
They shall liue with thee enclosed,
I will loath my pen and paper:
Art shall neuer be supposed,
Sloth shall quench the watching Taper.
Kisse them silence, kisse them kindly,
Though I leaue them, yet I loue them:
Though my wit haue led them blindly,
Yet a Swaine did once approue them.
I will trauaile soiles remoued,
Night and morning neuer merrie:
Thou shalt harbour that I loued,
I will loue that makes me wearie.
If perchaunce the Sheepheard strayeth,
In thy walks and shades vnhaunted:
Tell the teene my hart betrayeth,
How neglect my ioyes haue daunted.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.