The Shepher'ds Lamentation for His Phillis

As I lay musing all alone,
close down by a Chrystal Fountain,
I heard a Shepherd make great moan
for his Love that long had been,
As he lay musing all alone,
Fetching many a bitter groan,
And on his Hat there seem'd to be
A branch of a green-willow-tree.

How now Shepherd, what means that
Thou wear'st thy Willow on thy Hat?
Formerly 'twas blue and yellow,
Now is turn'd to a bunch of green-willow
It is my Phillis and only she,
That makes me wear the Willow-tree.

When I lay me down to rest,
Love lyes bleeding in my breast,
Cease, said I, and do not mourn
For her that holds thy heart in scorn;
But hereafter be like they
That Courts a new face e'ery day.

While I gaze on Clozis trembling,
while her looks my face declares.
When she smiles I fear dissembling,
when she frowns I straight dispair,
Jealous of some Rivals favour,
which her wandring looks can give,
Fain I would desire to leave her,
but can sooner cease to live.

Happy is he whose inclination
warms but with a gentle heat,
Or flyes out into a passion,
love's a torment, Oh 'tis great,
When the Storms are once blown over,
soon the Ocean quiet grows,
But a tender faithful lover
never is in true repose.