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PASTORALS.
The damp, cold greensward, for my nightly bed,
And some flaunt willow's trunk to rest my head.
Hard is to bear of pinching cold the pain;
And hard is want to the unpracticed swain: 96
But neither want, nor pinching cold, is hard,
To blasting storms of calumny compar'd:
Unkind as hail it falls; the pelting shower
Destroys the tender herb, and budding flower. 100
And some flaunt willow's trunk to rest my head.
Hard is to bear of pinching cold the pain;
And hard is want to the unpracticed swain: 96
But neither want, nor pinching cold, is hard,
To blasting storms of calumny compar'd:
Unkind as hail it falls; the pelting shower
Destroys the tender herb, and budding flower. 100
THENOT.
Slander we shepherds count the vilest wrong:
And what wounds sorer than an evil tongue?
Slander we shepherds count the vilest wrong:
And what wounds sorer than an evil tongue?
COLINET.
Untoward lads, the wanton imps of spite,
Make mock of all the ditties I endite, 104
In vain, O Colinet, thy pipe, so thrill,
Charms every vale, and gladdens every hill:
In vain thou seek'st the coverings of the grove,
In the cool shade to sing the pains of love: 108
Sing what thou wilt, ill-nature will prevail;
And every elf hath skill enough to rail:
But yet, though poor and artless be my vein,
Menalcas seems to like my simple strain: 112
And, while that He delighteth in my song,
Which to the good Menalcas doth belong,
Untoward lads, the wanton imps of spite,
Make mock of all the ditties I endite, 104
In vain, O Colinet, thy pipe, so thrill,
Charms every vale, and gladdens every hill:
In vain thou seek'st the coverings of the grove,
In the cool shade to sing the pains of love: 108
Sing what thou wilt, ill-nature will prevail;
And every elf hath skill enough to rail:
But yet, though poor and artless be my vein,
Menalcas seems to like my simple strain: 112
And, while that He delighteth in my song,
Which to the good Menalcas doth belong,
Nor
