The lad Philisides

The lad Philisides
Lay by a river's side.
In flow'ry field a gladder eye to please;
His pipe was at his foot,
His lambs were him beside,
A widow turtle near on bared root
Sat wailing without boot.
Each thing both sweet and sad
Did draw his boiling brain
To think, and think with pain
Of Mira's beams, eclips'd by absence bad,
And thus, with eyes made dim
With tears, he said, or sorrow said for him:

"O earth, once answer give,
So may thy stately grace
By north, or south still rich adorned live,
So Mira long may be
On thy then blessed face
Whose foot doth set a heav'n on cursed thee,
I ask, now answer me:
If th' author of thy bliss,
Phoebus, that shepherd high,
Do turn from thee his eye,
Doth not thyself, when he long absent is,
Like rogue, all ragged go,
And pine away with daily wasting woe?

Tell me you wanton brook,
So may your sliding race
Shun loathed loving banks with cunning crook:
So in you ever new
Mira may look her face,
And make you fair with shadow of her hue:
So when to pay your due
To mother sea you come,
She chid you not for stay,
Nor beat you for your play,
Tell me if your diverted springs become
Absented quite from you,
Are you not dried? can you yourselves renew?

Tell me you flowers fair,
Cowslip and columbine,
So may you make this wholesome spring-time air
With you embraced lie,
And lately thence untwine:
But with dewdrops engender children high:
So may you never die,
But pull'd by Mira's hand,
Dress bosom hers, or head.
Or scatter on her bed,
Tell me, if husband spring-time leave your land,
When he from you is sent,
Whither not you, languish'd with discontent?

Tell me, my silly pipe,
So may thee still betide,
A cleanly cloth thy moistness for to wipe:
So may the cherries red
Of Mira's lips divide
Their sugared selves to kiss thy happy head:
So may her ears be led
Her ears where music lives,
To hear and not despise
Thy lyric-liring cries;
Tell, if that breath, which thee thy sounding gives.
Be absent far from thee,
Absent alone canst thou then piping be?

Tell me my lamb of gold,
So may'st thou long abide
The day well fed, the night in faithful fold:
So grow thy wool of note,
In time that richly dy'd
It may be part of Mira's petticoat,
Tell me, if wolves the throat
Have caught of thy dear dam,
Or she from thee be stay'd,
Or thou from her be stray'd,
Canst thou poor lamb, become another's lamb?
Or rather till you die,
Still for thy dam, with baa-waymenting cry?

Tell me, O turtle true,
So may no fortune breed
To make thee nor thy better-loved rue:
So may thy blessings swarm,
That Mira may thee feed
With hand and mouth; with laps and breaks keep warm:
Tell me of greedy arm,
Do fondly take away
With traitor lime the one
The other left alone:
Tell me poor wretch, parted from wretched prey
Disdain not you the green,
Wailing till death, shun you not to be seen?

Earth, brook, flow'rs, pipe, lamb, dove,
Say all and I with them,
'Absence is death or worse, to them that love.'
So I unlucky lad
Whom hills from her do hem,
What fits me now but tears, and sighings sad?
O fortune too too bad,
I rather would my sheep
Th'adst killed with a stroke,
Burnt Caban, lost my cloak,
Then want one hour those eyes which my joys keep.
Oh! what doth wailing win?
Speech without end had better not begin.

My song climb thou the wind,
Which Holland sweet now gently sendeth in,
That on his wings the level thou may'st find
To hit, but kissing hit
Her ears the weights of wit.
If thou know not for whom thy master dies,
These marks shall make thee wise:
She is the herdess fair that shines in dark,
And gives her kids no food, but willow's bark."

This said, at length he ended.
His oft sigh-broken ditty,
Then raise, but raise no legs with faintness bended,
With skin in sorrow died,
With face the plot of pity,
With thoughts, which thoughts their own tormentors tried.
He rose, and straight espied
His ram, who to recover
The ewe another loved,
With him proud battle proved.
He envied such a death in sight of lover,
And always westward eyeing,
More envied Phoebus for his western flying.