The Shepherd's Ode

Nights were short and days were long
Blossoms on the hawthorn hong,
Philomel, night-music's king,
Told the coming of the Spring.
Whose sweet silver-sounding voice
Made the little birds rejoice,
Skipping light from spray to spray.
Till Aurora show'd the day.
Scarce might one see, when I might see
(For such chances sudden be)
By a well of marble-stone,
A shepherd lying all alone.

Weep he did, and his weeping
Made the fading flowers spring.
Daphnis was his name I ween,
Youngest swain of summer's queen.
When Aurora saw 'twas he.
Weep she did for company;
Weep she did for her sweet son,
That (when antique Troy was won)
Suffer'd death by luckless fate,
Whom she now laments too late.
And each morning (by cock's crew)
Showers down her silver dew.
Whose tears falling from their spring.
Give moisture to each living thing
That on earth increase and grow,
Through power of their friendly foe.
Whose effect when Flora felt.
Tears, that did her bosom melt,
(For who can resist tears often.
But she whom no tears can soften?)
Peering straight above the banks,
Show'd herself to give her thanks,
Wond'ring thus at Nature's work
(Wherein many marvels lurk).
Methought I heard a doleful noise
Consorted with a mournful voice;
Drawing near, to hear more plain.
Hear I did, unto my pain,
(For who is not pain'd to hear
Him in grief whom heart holds dear?)
Silly swain with grief o'er-gone.
Thus to make his piteous moan: —
" Love I did, alas! the while.

Love I did, but did beguile
My dear love with loving so.
Whom as then I did not know.
Love I did the fairest boy
That these fields did e'er enjoy;
Love I did fair Ganymede,
Venus' darling, beauty's bed;
Him I thought the fairest creature,
Him the quintessence of nature.
But yet, alas! I was deceived,
(Love of reason is bereaved,)
For since then I saw a lass,
Lass that did in beauty pass,
Pass fair Ganymede as far
As Phoebus doth the smallest star.
Love commanded rae to love.
Fancy bade me not remove
My affection from the swain
Whom I never could obtain.
(For who can obtain that favour
Which he cannot grant the craver?)
Love at last, though loth, prevail'd.
Love that so my heart assail'd.
Wounding me with her fair eyes:
Ah, how Love can subtilize,
And devise a thousand shifts
How to work men to his drifts!
Her it is for whom I mourn,
Her for whom my life I scorn;
Her for whom I weep all day.
Her for whom I sigh and say.
Either she, or else no creature.
Shall enjoy my love; whose feature
Though I never can obtain,
Yet shall my true love remain,
Till (my body turn'd to clay)
My poor soul must pass away
To the heavens; where I hope
It shall find a resting scope:
Then since I loved thee alone.
Remember me when I am gone."
Scarce had he these last words spoken,
But methought his heart was broken,
With great grief that did abound,
(Cares and grief the heart confound,)
In whose heart, thus rived in three,
Eliza written I might see
In characters of crimson blood.
Whose meaning well I understood;
Which for my heart might not behold,
I hied me home my sheep to fold.