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Albeit some deal I pipe, rude tho' it be,
Sufficient to divert my Sheep and me
Yet Colinet (and Colinet has Skill)
My Fingers guided on the tuneful Quill,
And try'd to teach me on what Sounds to dwell,
And where to sink a Note, and where to swell.
Sufficient to divert my Sheep and me
Yet Colinet (and Colinet has Skill)
My Fingers guided on the tuneful Quill,
And try'd to teach me on what Sounds to dwell,
And where to sink a Note, and where to swell.
ARGOL.
Ah Mico! half my Flock would I bestow,
Would Colinet to me his Cunning show.
So trim his Sonnets are, I prithee, Swain,
Now give us once a Sample of his Strain:
For, Wonders of that Lad the Shepherds say,
How sweet his Pipe, how ravishing his Lay:
The Sweetness of his Pipe and Lay reherse,
And ask what Gift thou pleasest for thy Verse.
Ah Mico! half my Flock would I bestow,
Would Colinet to me his Cunning show.
So trim his Sonnets are, I prithee, Swain,
Now give us once a Sample of his Strain:
For, Wonders of that Lad the Shepherds say,
How sweet his Pipe, how ravishing his Lay:
The Sweetness of his Pipe and Lay reherse,
And ask what Gift thou pleasest for thy Verse.
MICO.
Since then thou list, a mournful Song I chuse;
A mournful Song relieves a mournfull Muse.
Fast by the River, on a Bank he sate,
To weep the lovely Maid's untimely Fate,
Fair Stella hight: a lovely Maid was she,
Whose Fate he wept; a faithful Shepherd he.
Awake my Pipe; in ev'ry Note express
Fair Stella's Death and Colinet's Distress.
O woful Day! O Day of Woe! quoth he;
And woful I, who live the Day to see!
That ever she could die! O most unkind,
To go, and leave thy Colinet behind!
And yet, why blame I her? full fain would she,
With dying Arms, have clasp'd her self to Me:
I clasp'd her too; but Death was all too strong,
Nor Vows, nor Tears could fleeting Life prolong.
Teach me to grieve, with bleating Moan, my Sheep;
Teach me, thou ever-flowing Stream, to weep;
Teach me ye faint, ye hollow Winds, to sigh;
And let my Sorrows teach me how to die:
Nor Flock, nor Stream, nor Winds can e'er relieve
A Wretch like me, for ever born to grieve.
Since then thou list, a mournful Song I chuse;
A mournful Song relieves a mournfull Muse.
Fast by the River, on a Bank he sate,
To weep the lovely Maid's untimely Fate,
Fair Stella hight: a lovely Maid was she,
Whose Fate he wept; a faithful Shepherd he.
Awake my Pipe; in ev'ry Note express
Fair Stella's Death and Colinet's Distress.
O woful Day! O Day of Woe! quoth he;
And woful I, who live the Day to see!
That ever she could die! O most unkind,
To go, and leave thy Colinet behind!
And yet, why blame I her? full fain would she,
With dying Arms, have clasp'd her self to Me:
I clasp'd her too; but Death was all too strong,
Nor Vows, nor Tears could fleeting Life prolong.
Teach me to grieve, with bleating Moan, my Sheep;
Teach me, thou ever-flowing Stream, to weep;
Teach me ye faint, ye hollow Winds, to sigh;
And let my Sorrows teach me how to die:
Nor Flock, nor Stream, nor Winds can e'er relieve
A Wretch like me, for ever born to grieve.
Awake,
