The Shepheard's Calender: Twelve Aeglogues Proportionable to the Twelve Monethes

COLIN CLOUT.

A shepheard’s boy, (no better do him call,) When winter’s wasteful spite was almost spent, All in a sunshine day, as did befall, Led forth his flock, that had been long ypent: So faint they wox, and feeble in the fold, That now unnethes their feet could them uphold.

All as the sheep, such was the shepheard’s look, For pale and wan he was, (alas the while!) May seem he lov’d, or else some care he took; Well couth he tune his pipe and frame his style: Then to a hill his fainting flock he led, And thus him plain’d, the while his sheep there fed:

“Ye gods of love! that pity lovers’ pain, (If any gods the pain of lovers pity,) Look from above, where you in joys remain, And bow your ears unto my doleful ditty. And, Pan! thou shepheards’ god, that once didst love, Pity the pains that thou thyself didst prove.