The calfe with many a lusty lambe
Do fede their hunger full.
"But, wel-away! that nature wrought
The, Phylida, so faire:
For I may say that I have bought
Thy beauty all to deare.
"What reason is that crueltie
With beautie should have part?
Or els that such great tyranny
Should dwell in womans hart?
"I see therefore to shape my death
She cruelly is prest;
To th' ende that I may want my breath:
My dayes been at the best.
"O Cupide, graunt this my request,
And do not stoppe thine eares;
That she may feele within her Brest
The paines of my dispaires:
"Of Corin who is carelesse,
That she may crave her fee:
As I have done in great distresse,
That loved her faithfully.
"But since that I shall die her slave;
Her slave, and eke her thrall:
Write you, my frendes, upon my grave
This chaunce that is befall.
"'Here lieth unhappy Harpalus
By cruell love now slaine:
Whom Phylida unjustly thus
Hath murdred with disdaine.'"
NOTES
- First published in 1579.