Classic Poem

Amidst the fairest mountain tops,
Where Zephyrus doth breathe
The pleasant gale, that clothes with flowers
The valleys underneath,

A shepherd lived, that dearly loved
(Dear love time brought to pass)
A forest nymph, who was as fair
As ever woman was.

His thoughts were higher than the hills
Whereof he had the keep,
But all his actions innocent,
As humble as his sheep:

Yet had he power, but her pure thoughts
Debarred his powers to rise
Higher than kissing of her hands
Or looking in her eyes.

One day (I need not name the day
To lovers of their sorrows,
But say, as once a shepherd said,
Their moan nights have no morrows)

He from his sheep-cot led his sheep
To pasture in the lease,
And there to feed while he, the while,
Might dream of his disease.

And all alone (if he remain
Alone, that is in love)
Unto himself alone he mourned
The passions he did prove.

"O heavens! (quoth he) are these th' effects
Of faithful love's deserts?
Will Cynthia now forsake my love?
Have women faithless hearts?

"And will not wits, nor words, nor works,
Nor long-endured laments,
Bring to my plaints pity or peace,
Or to my tears contents?

"I, that enchained my love desires,
From changing thoughts as free,
As ever were true thoughts to her,
Or her thoughts false to me.

"I that for her my wandering sheep
Forsook, forgot, forwent,
Nor of myself, nor them took keep,
But in her love's content.

"Shall I, like meads with winter's rain,
Be turned into tears?
Shall I, of whose true feeling pain
These greens the record bears,

"Causeless, be scorned, disdained, despised?
Then, witness this desire,
Love was in woman's weed disguised,
And not in men's attire.'

And thus he said, and down he lies,
Sighing as life would part:
"O! Cynthia, thou hast angel's eyes,
But yet a woman's heart.'