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 Both Nimphs and Muſes night ſhe made aſtownd, And flocks and ſhepheards cauſed to reioyce.

But now ye Shepheard laſſes, who ſhall lead Your wandring troupes, or ſing your virelayes? Or who ſhall dight your bowres, ſith ſhe is dead That was the Lady of your holy dayes? Let now your bliſſe be turned into bale, And into plaints conuert your ioyous playes, And with the ſame fill euery hill and dale.

Let Bagpipe neuer more be heard to ſhrill, That may allure the ſenſes to delight; Ne euer Shepheard ſound his Oaten quil. Vnto the many, that prouoke them might To idle pleaſance: but left ghaſtlineſſe And drety horror dim the chearfull light, To make the image of true heauineſſe.

Let birds be ſilent on the naked ſpray, And ſhady woods reſound with dreadfull yells: Let ſtreaming floods their haſtie courſes ſtay, And parching drought drie vp the chriſtall wells; Let th’ earth be barren and bring foorth no flowres, And th’ ayre be fild with noyſe of dolefull knells, And wandring ſpirits walke vntimely howres.

And Nature nurſe of euery liuing thing, Let reſt her ſelfe from her long wearineſſe, And ceaſe henceforth things kindly forth to bring, But hideous monſters full of vglineſſe: For ſhe it is, that hath me done this wrong, No nurſe, but Stepdame cruell mercileſſe, Weepe Shepheard weepe to make my vnder ſong. My