Who sitting in the cliffy rocks May in their songs express, While as they comb their golden locks, Poor Harpalus' distress; And so perhaps some passenger That passeth by the way, May stay, and listen for to hear, Them sing this doleful lay. Poor Harpalus a shepherd swain Who still, remorseless-hearted maid, Took pleasure in his pain : And his good will, poor soul, repaid, Ne'er shepherd lov'd a shepherdess Of shepherdess could be, To her his woes impart, How oft his sighs did testify The dolour of his heart. How oft from vallies to the hills How oft on barks of stately pines, Of beech, of holly green, The grief he did sustain. Yet all his plaints could have no place The more his sorrows did encrease The thought thereof with wearied care Poor Harpalus did move, That, overcome with high despair, He lost both life and love. XXIV. SHEPHERD'S DELIGHT. To the tune of Frog's Galliard. [Black letter, for the Assigns of Symcocke.] ON yonder hill there springs a flower, And by that flower there stands a bower Where all the heavenly Muses meet, And therein sits the fairest fair It was Phillida fair and bright, Whom all the world did joy to see, There was none but only she. Thou art the shepherd's queen, Dead men restored to life again; Thy poor afflicted Corydon. Dead I am to all delights, Except thy mercy quicken me, Grant, oh queen, or else I die, A salve for this my malady, The while we sing with cheerful noise, Wood nymphs and satyrs all may play, With silver sounding music's voice, Rejoicing at this happy day. XXV. "THE NORTHERN LASSES LAMENTATION, OR The Unhappy Maid's Misfortune." "Since she did from her friends depart, To the tune,-I would I were in my own country. A NORTH Country lass Up to London did pass, And so often lament, Still wishing again in the North for to be, O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, |