Alanius the Shepherd his doleful Song, complaining of Ismenia's Cruelty

No more, O cruel nymph! now hast thou prey'd
Enough in thy revenge; prove not thine ire
On him that yields; the fault is now appay'd
Unto my cost; now mollify thy dire
Hardness, and breast of thine so much obdured.
And now raise up (though lately it hath err'd)
A poor repenting soul, that in the obscured
Darkness of thy oblivion lies interr'd:

For it falls not in that, that should commend thee,
That such a swain as I may once offend thee.
If that the little sheep with speed is flying
From angry shepherd (with his words afraid),
And runneth here and there with fearful crying.
And with great grief is from the flock estray'd;
But when it now perceives that none doth follow,
And all alone so far estraying mourneth,
Knowing what danger it is in, with hollow
And fainting bleats; then fearful it returneth
Unto the flock, meaning no more to leave it, —
Should it not be a just thing to receive it?

Lift up those eyes, Ismenia, which so stately,
To view me, thou hast lifted up before me;
That liberty which was mine own but lately.
Give me again, and to the same restore me;
And that mild heart, so full of love and pity.
Which thou didst yield to me, and ever owe me:
Behold, my nymph, I was not then so witty
To know that sincere love that thou didst show me:
Now, woful man, full well I know and rue it.
Although it was too late before I knew it.

How could it be, my enemy, say, tell me.
How thou (in greater fault and error being
Than ever I was thought) shouldst thus repel me?
And with new league and cruel title seeing
Thy faith so pure and worthy to be changed?
And what is that, Ismenia, that doth bind it
To love, whereas the same is most estranged.
And where it is impossible to find it?

But pardon me, if herein I abuse thee:
Since that the cause thou gav'st me doth excuse me.
But tell me now, what honour hast thou gain'd,
Avenging such a fault by thee committed.
And thereunto by thy occasion train'd?
What have I done, that I have not acquitted?
Or what excess that is not amply payd,
Or suffer more, than I have not endur'd?
What cruel mind, what angry breast displayed
With savage heart, to fierceness so adjured?

Would not such mortal grief make mild and tender,
But that which my fell shepherdess doth render?
Now as I have perceived well thy reasons,
Which thou hast had, or hast yet, to forget me.
The pains, the griefs, the guilts of forc'd treasons.
That I have done, wherein thou first didst set me,
The passions, and thine ears' and eyes' refusing
To peer and see me, meaning to undo me:
Cam'st thou to know, or be but once perusing,
Th' unsought occasions, which thou gav'st unto me.
Thou shouldst not have wherewith to more torment me,
Nor I to pay the fault my rashness lent me.