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 Lyc. Then Tityrus, and Corydon, And Thyrsis, they shall follow With all the rest; while thou alone Shalt lead like young Apollo.

And till thou com'st, thy Lycidas, In every genial cup, Shall write in spice: Endymion 'twas That kept his piping up.

And, my most lucky swain, when I shall live to see Endymion's moon to fill up full, remember me: Meantime, let Lycidas have leave to pipe to thee. Oat, oaten pipe. Prank, bedeck. Drosomell, honey dew.

Bright tulips, we do know You had your coming hither, And fading-time does show That ye must quickly wither.

Your sisterhoods may stay, And smile here for your hour; But die ye must away, Even as the meanest flower.

Come, virgins, then, and see Your frailties, and bemoan ye; For, lost like these, 'twill be As time had never known ye.