The Shepherd Arsilius' Reply to Syrenus' Song

O let that time a thousand months endure.
Which brings from heaven the sweet and silver showers.
And joys the earth (of comfort late deprived)
With grass and leaves, fine buds and painted flowers.
Echo, return unto the woods obscure,
Ring forth the shepherds' songs in love contrived.
Let old loves be revived.
Which angry winter buried but of late,
And that in such a state
My soul may have the full accomplishment
Of joy and sweet content:
And since fierce pains and griefs thou dost control.
Good Love, do not forsake my inward soul.

Presume not, shepherds, once to make you merry
With springs, and flowers, or any pleasant song,
Unless mild Love possess your amorous breasts;
If you sing not to him, your songs do weary;
Crown him with flowers, or else ye do him wrong;
And consecrate your springs to his behests.
I to my shepherdess
My happy loves with great content do sing.

And flowers to her do bring.
And sitting near her by the river-side,
Enjoy the brave springtide.
Since then thy joys such sweetness doth enroll.
Good Love, do not forsake my inward soul.
The wise (in ancient times) a god thee named,
Seeing that with thy power and supreme might,
Thou didst such rare and mighty wonders make;
For thee a heart is frozen and enflamed,
A fool thou mak'st a wise man with thy light.
The coward turns courageous for thy sake;
The mighty gods did quake
At thy command; to birds and beasts transform'd.

Great monarchs have not scorn'd
To yield unto the force of beauty's lure;
Such spoils thou dost procure
With thy brave force, which never may be told.
With which, sweet Love, thou conquer'st every soul.
In other times obscurely I did live,
But with a drowsy, base, and simple kind
Of life, and only to my profit bend me;
To think of love myself I did not give.
Or for good grace, good parts, and gentle mind,
Never did any shepherdess commend me:
But crown'd now they send me
A thousand garlands, that I won with praise.
In wrestling days by days,
In pitching of the bar with arm most strong.
And singing many a song,
After that thou didst honour and take hold
Of my sweet love and of my happy soul.

What greater joy can any man desire
Than to remain a captive unto Love,
And have his heart subjected to his power?
And though sometimes he taste a little sour
By suffering it, as mild as gentle dove
Yet must he be, in lieu of that great hire
Whereto he doth aspire;
If lovers live afflicted and in pain.
Let them with cause complain
Of cruel fortune, and of time's abuse,
And let not them accuse
Thee, gentle Love, that doth with bliss enfold
Within thy sweetest joys each living soul.

Behold a fair sweet face, and shining eyes
Resembling two most bright and twinkling stars.
Sending unto the soul a perfect light;
Behold the rare perfections of those white
And ivory hands from griefs most surest bars;
That mind wherein all life and glory lies.
That joy that never dies.
That he doth feel that loves and is beloved;
And my delights approved,
To see her pleased, whose love maintains me here;
All those I count so dear,
That though sometimes love doth my joys control.
Yet I am glad he dwells within my soul.