Old Damon's Pastoral

From fortune's frowns and change removed,
Wend, silly flocks, in bless'd feeding:
None of Damon more beloved.
Feed, gentle lambs, while I sit reading.
Careless worldlings, outrage quelleth
All the pride and pomp of city,
But true peace with shepherds dwelleth,
Shepherds who delight in pity.
Whether grace of heaven betideth,
On our humble minds such pleasure;
Perfect peace with swains abideth,
Love and faith is shepherd's treasure.
On the lower plains the thunder
Little thrives, and nought prevaileth:
Yet in cities breedeth wonder,
And the highest hills assaileth.

Envy of a foreign tyrant
Threateneth kings, not shepherds humble;
Age makes silly swains delirant,
Thirst of rule pars great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorry
Abject state and humble biding,
Is our joy and country glory,
Highest states have worse betiding:
Golden cups do harbour poison,
And the greatest pomp dissembling;
Court of seasoned words hath foison.

Treason haunts in most assembling.
Homely breasts do harbour quiet,
Little fear, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet.
Fear and craft do haunt the palace.
Little would I, little want I;
Where the mind and store agreeth.
Smallest comfort is not scanty,
Least he longs that little seeth.
Time hath been that I have longed.

Foolish I to like of folly.
To converse where honour thronged,
To my pleasures linked wholly.
Now I see, and seeing sorrow,
That the day consumed returns not,;
Who dare trust upon to-morrow,
When nor time nor life sojourns not!