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To the most excellent and learned Shepherd Colin Clout |
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To all Shepherds in general |
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I. |
Courteous Calliope, vouchsafe to lend |
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II. |
Thy beauty, subject of my Song I make |
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III. |
Feed, silly sheep! although your keeper pineth |
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IV. |
Whole showers of Tears to Chloris I will pour |
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V. |
You Fauns and Silvans, when my Chloris brings |
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VI. |
You lofty Pines, co-partners of my woe |
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VII. |
What need I mourn? seeing Pan, our sacred King |
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VIII. |
No sooner had fair Phœbus trimmed his car |
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IX. |
Into the fountain, where fair Diana chaste |
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X. |
Am I a Gorgon? that she doth me fly! |
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XI. |
Tell me, my dear, what moves thy ruthless mind |
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XII. |
Cease eyes to weep, sith none bemoans your weeping! |
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XIII. |
What time fair Titan in the zenith sat |
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XIV. |
Mournful Amyntas, thou didst pine with care |
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XV. |
These weeping Truce-men shew I living languish |
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XVI. |
Which I pour forth unto a cruel Saint |
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XVII. |
The perils which Leander took in hand |
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XVIII. |
My Love, I cannot thy rare beauties place |
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XIX. |
The Hound, by eating grass, doth find relief |
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XX. |
Ye wasteful woods, bear witness of my woe! |
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XXI. |
“Being likewise scorned in love as well as I” |
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XXII. |
O fairest Fair, to thee I make my plaint |
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XXIII. |
The Phœnix fair which rich Arabia breeds |
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XXIV. |
Though they augmentors of my thraldom be |
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XXV. |
Who doth not know that Love is triumphant |
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XXVI. |
Though you be fair and beautiful withal |
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XXVII. |
O Love, leave off with sorrows to torment me! |
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XXVIII. |
What cruel star, or fate, had dominion |
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XXIX. |
Some in their hearts, their Mistress’s colours bear |
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XXX. |
The raging sea, within his limits lies |
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XXXI. |
These waves no way in her to sink can find |
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XXXII. |
My fixèd faith against oblivion fights |
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XXXIII. |
With patience bearing Love’s captivity |
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XXXIV. |
The bird of Thrace, which doth bewail her rape |
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XXXV. |
Like to the shipman, in his brittle boat |
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XXXVI. |
What a wound, and what a deadly stroke |
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XXXVII. |
Each beast in field doth wish the morning light |
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XXXVIII. |
That day wherein mine eyes cannot her see |
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XXXIX. |
The stately lion and the furious bear |
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XL. |
No art nor force can unto pity move |
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XLI. |
Fair Shepherdess, when as these rustic lines |
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XLII. |
Die, die my Hopes! for you do but augment |
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XLIII. |
Thou glorious Sun (from whence my lesser light |
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XLIV. |
When I more large thy praises forth shall show |
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XLV. |
When she was born, whom I entirely love |
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XLVI. |
When Chloris first, with her heart-robbing eye |
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XLVII. |
But of thy heart too cruel I thee tell |
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XLVIII. |
You that embrace enchanting Poesy |
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XLIX. |
Colin, I know that, in thy lofty wit |
