Classic Poem

O true delight, enharbouring the breasts
Of those sweet creatures with the plumy crests.
Had Nature unto man such simpl'ess given,
He would, like birds, be far more near to heaven.
But Doridon well knew (who knows no less?)
" Man's compounds have o'erthrown his simpleness. "
Noontide the Morn had woo'd, and she 'gan yield,
When Doridon (made ready for the field)
Goes sadly forth (a woful shepherd's lad)
Drowned in tears, his mind with grief yclad,
To ope his fold and let his lambkins out,
(Full jolly flock they seem'd, a well-fleec'd rout)
Which gently walk'd before, he sadly pacing,
Both guides and follows them towards their grazing.
When from a grove the wood-nymphs held full dear,
Two heavenly voices did entreat his ear,
And did compel his longing eyes to see
What happy wight enjoy'd such harmony;
Which joined with five more, and so made seven,
Would parallel in mirth the spheres of heaven.
To have a sight at first he would not press,
For fear to interrupt such happiness;
But kept aloof the thick-grown shrubs among,
Yet so as he might hear this wooing song: F.

Fie, shepherd's swain, why sit'st thou all alone,
Whilst other lads are sporting on the leys? R.
Joy may have company, but grief hath none:
Where pleasure never came, sports cannot please. F.
Yet may you please to grace our this day's sport,
Though not an actor, yet a looker-on. R.
A looker-on, indeed! so swains of sort,
Cast low, take joy to look whence they are thrown? R.
Seek joy and find it. F.
Grief doth not mind it.

Both

Then both agree in one,
Sorrow doth hate
To have a mate;
" True grief is still alone. " F.

Sad swain, arede (if that a maid may ask)
What cause so great effects of grief hath wrought? R.
Alas! Love is not hid, it wears no mask;
To view 'tis by the face conceiv'd and brought. F.
The cause I grant: the causer is not learn'd:
Your speech I do entreat about this task. R.
If that my heart were seen, 'twould be discern'd;
And Fida's name found graven on the cask. F.
Hath Love young Remond moved? R.
'Tis Fida that is loved.

Both.

Although 'tis said that no men
Will with their hearts,
Or goods' chief parts
Trust either seas or women. F .

How may a maiden be assur'd of love,
Since falsehood late in every swain excelleth? R .
When protestations fail, time may approve
Where true affection lives, where falsehood dwelleth. F .
The truest cause elects a judge as true:
Fie, how my sighing my much loving telleth. R .
Your love is fix'd in one whose heart to you
Shall be as constancy, which ne'er rebelleth. F .
None other shall have grace. R .
None else in my heart place.

Both.

Go, shepherds' swains and wive all,
For love and kings
vAre two like things
Admitting no co-rival.

As when some malefactor judg'd to die
For his offence, his execution nigh,
Casteth his sight on states unlike to his,
And weighs his ill by others' happiness:
So Doridon thought every state to be
Further from him, more near felicity.
O blessed sight, where such concordance meets,
Where truth with truth, and love with liking greets.
Had (quoth the swain) the Fates giv'n me some measure
Of true delight's inestimable treasure,
I had been fortunate: but now so weak
My bankrupt heart will be enforc'd to break.
Sweet love, that draws on earth a yoke so even;
Sweet life, that imitates the bliss of heaven;
Sweet death they needs must have, who so unite
That two distinct make one hermaphrodite:
Sweet love, sweet life, sweet death, that so do meet
On earth; in death, in heaven be ever sweet!
Let all good wishes ever wait upon you,
And happiness as handmaid tending on you.
Your loves within one centre meeting have!
One hour your deaths, your corps possess one grave!
Your names still green, (thus doth a swain implore)
Till time and memory shall be no more!
Herewith the couple hand-in-hand arose,
And took the way which to the sheep-walk goes.
And whilst that Doridon their gait look'd on,
His dog disclos'd him, rushing forth upon
A well-fed deer, that trips it o'er the mead
As nimbly as the wench did whilom tread
On Ceres' dangling ears, or shalt let go
By some fair nymph that bears Diana's bow.
When turning head, he not a foot would stir,
Scorning the barking of a shepherd's cur:
So should all swains as little weigh their spite,
Who at their songs do bawl, but dare not bite.