Sireno, a Shepherd, having a lock of his fair Nymph's hair, wrapt about with green silk, mourns in a love-ditty

What changes here, O hair,
I see since I saw you!
How ill fits you this green to wear,
For hope the colour due!
Indeed, I well did hope,
Though hope were mix'd with fear.
No other shepherd should have scope
Once to approach this heare.

Ah, hair! how many days
My Dian made me show.
With thousand pretty childish plays.
If I ware you or no!
Alas! how oft with tears,
(Oh, tears of guileful breast!)
She seem'd full of jealous fears,
Whereat I did but jest!

Tell me, O hair of gold.
If I then faulty be.
That trust those killing eyes I would,
Since they did warrant me?
Have you not seen her mood.
What streams of tears she spent.
Till that I sware my faith so stood.
As her words had it bent?

Who hath such beauty seen,
In one that changeth so?
Or where one's love so constant been,
Who ever saw such woe?
Ah, hairs, are you not grieved.
To come from whence you be.
Seeing how once you saw I lived.
To see me as you see?

On sandy bank of late,
I saw this woman sit,
Where, Sooner die than change my state.
She with her finger writ.
Thus my belief was stay'd
(Behold Love's mighty hand)
On things were by a woman said
And written in the sand!