Page:Shepheards Calendar-Crane 1898.djvu/33

 “A thousand siths I curse that careful hour

Wherein I long’d the neighbour town to see,

And eke ten thousand siths I bless the stoure

Wherein I saw so fair a sight as she:

Yet all for naught: such sight hath bred my bane.

Ah, God! that love should breed both joy and pain!

“It is not Hobbinol$2$ wherefore I plain,

Albe my love he seek with daily suit;

His clownish gifts and court’sies I disdain,

His kids, his cracknels, and his early fruit.

Ah, foolish Hobbinol! thy gifts be vain;

Colin them gives to Rosalind again.

“I love thilk lass, (alas! why do I love?)

And am forlorn, (alas! why am I lorn?)

She deigns not my good will, but doth reprove,

And of my rural music holdeth scorn.

Shepheard’s device she hateth as the snake,

And laughs the songs that Colin Clout doth make.

“Wherefore, my pipe, albe rude Pan thou please,

Yet for thou pleasest not where most I would;

And thou, unlucky Muse, that wont’st to ease

My musing mind, yet canst not when thou should;

Both Pipe and Muse shall sore the while abye.”

So broke his oaten pipe, and down did lie.

By that, the welked Phbus gan availe

His weary wain; and now the frosty Night

Her mantle black through heaven gan overhale:

Which seen, the pensive boy, halfin despite,

Arose, and homeward drove his sunned sheep,

Whose hanging heads did seem his careful case to weep.

Ancora speme.

(Hope is my anchor.)