Whistle whilst your lambs do feed; Ever known to mortal was. Listen, lordings, you that most Where you look for sweet embraces. Beauties, listen; chiefly you That yet know not virtue's due. You that think there are no sports Nor no honours but in courts, Though of thousands there live not Two but die and are forgot: See, if any palace yields Aught more glorious than the fields, And consider well if we May not as high-flying be In our thoughts as you that sing Favours with as true respect In your good conceits to rise, LXXVII. ADMIRE NOT, SHEPHERD'S BOY. ADMIRE not, shepherd's boy, Why I my pipe forbear, My sorrows and my joy Beyond expression are. Their passions while they woo, Yet mine do fly A pitch too high For words to reach unto. Or passion's store As black as theirs And teach my lines to woo. But oh, thrice happy ye Whose mean conceit is dull! Lets to express Take such high flights My joys will me undo. I have a love that's fair, Rich, wise, and nobly born; She's true perfection's heir, Holds nought but vice in scorn. A heart to find More chaste, more kind, Of her degree No blab I'll be, For doubt some prince should woo. And yet I dare not fear, Though she my meanness knows, The willow branch to wear, No, nor the yellow hose. For if great Jove Should sue for love, She would not me forgo: By night or day, Which braver dare not do. You gallants born to pelf, To lands, to title's store, I'm born but to myself, Nor do I care for more. Add to your earth, Wealth, honours, birth, And all you can thereto, You cannot prove The height of love Great men have helps to gain Those favours they implore, Which though I win with pain, I find my joys the more. Each clown may rise And climb the skies When he hath found a stair; But joy to him That dares to climb And hath no help but air. Some say that Love repents From greatness stoop thereto. So mean dared try And yet although much joy The gem I'll ne'er forego: Which yet I dare Not show, nor wear; And that breeds all my woe. But fie, my foolish tongue, How loosely now it goes! First let my knell be rung Mount thoughts on high! Cease words! for why My meaning to divine To those I leave That can conceive And now no more I'll sing Confused, you see, |