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Olde Damons Pastorall.
From Fortunes frownes and change remou'd,
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading.
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading.
Carelesse vvorldlings outrage quelleth
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure.
On the lower Plaines the thunder
little thriues, and nought preuaileth:
Yet in Citties breedeth wonder,
and the highest hills assaileth.
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure.
On the lower Plaines the thunder
little thriues, and nought preuaileth:
Yet in Citties breedeth wonder,
and the highest hills assaileth.
Enuie of a forraigne Tyrant
threatneth Kings, not Sheepheards humble:
Age makes silly Swaines delirant,
thirst of rule garres great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorrie,
abiect state and humble biding:
Is our ioy and Country glorie,
highest states haue worse betiding.
Golden cups doo harbour poyson,
and the greatest pompe, dissembling:
Court of seasoned words hath foyson,
treason haunts in most assembling.
threatneth Kings, not Sheepheards humble:
Age makes silly Swaines delirant,
thirst of rule garres great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorrie,
abiect state and humble biding:
Is our ioy and Country glorie,
highest states haue worse betiding.
Golden cups doo harbour poyson,
and the greatest pompe, dissembling:
Court of seasoned words hath foyson,
treason haunts in most assembling.
Homely breasts doo harbour quiet,
little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace.
Little would I, little want I,
where the mind and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I haue longed,
foolish I, to like of follie:
To conuerse where honour thronged,
to my pleasures linked wholy.
little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace.
where the mind and store agreeth,
Smallest comfort is not scantie,
least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath beene that I haue longed,
foolish I, to like of follie:
To conuerse where honour thronged,
to my pleasures linked wholy.
Now I see, and seeing sorrow
that the day consum'd, returnes not:
Who dare trust vpon to morrow,
when nor time, nor life soiournes not?
that the day consum'd, returnes not:
Who dare trust vpon to morrow,
when nor time, nor life soiournes not?
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
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