ASTROPHELL,

HIS SONG OF PHILLIDA AND CORIDON.

By the same.

FAIR in a morn, O fairest Morn!

Was never morn so fair;

There shone a sun, though not the sun,

That shineth in the air.

For the earth, and from the earth,

Was never such a creature;

Did come this face; was never face,

That carried such a feature.
Upon a hill, O blessed hill!

Was never hill so blessed,

There stood a man, was never man
For woman so distressed.

This man beheld a heavenly view,

Which did such virtue give:

As clears the blind, and helps the lame,
And makes the dead man live.

This man had hap, O happy man!
More happy none than he;
For he had hap to see the hap,

That none had hap to see.

This silly swain, and silly swains

Are men of meanest grace;

Had yet the grace, O gracious guest!

To hap on such a face.

He pity cried, and Pity came;

And pitied so his pain;

As dying, would not let him die,

But gave him life again.

For joy whereof he made such mirth,

As all the woods did ring:

And Pan with all his swains came out
To hear the shepherds sing;

But such a song sung never was,
Nor shall be sung again,

Of Phillida the Shepherd's Queen,

And Coridon the swain.

Fair Phillis is the Shepherd's Queen, Was never such a queen as she;

And Coridon her only swain,

Was never such a swain as he.

Fair Phillis hath the fairest face,
That ever eye did yet behold;
And Coridon the constant'st faith,
That ever yet kept flock in fold.
Sweet Phillis is the sweetest sweet,

That ever yet the earth did yield;

And Coridon the kindest swain,

That ever yet kept lambs in field. Sweet Philomel is Phillis' bird,

Though Coridon be he that caught her:

And Coridon doth hear her sing,

Though Phillida be she that taught her.

Poor Coridon doth keep the fields,

Though Phillida be she that owes them:

And Phillida doth walk the meads,

Though Coridon be he that mows them.

The little lambs are Phillis' love,

Though Coridon is he that feeds them: The gardens fair are Phillis' ground, Though Coridon is he that weeds them. Since then that Phillis only is

The only Shepherd's only Queen:

And Coridon the only swain,

That only hath a Shepherd been:

Though Phillis keep her bower of state,
Shall Coridon consume away?

No, Shepherd, no, work out the week,

And Sunday shall be holy-day.

CORIDON'S SUPPLICATION TO PHILLIS.

By the same.

SWEET Phillis, if a silly swain

May sue to thee for grace,

See not thy loving shepherd slain,
For looking on thy face.

But think what power thou hast got,

Upon my flock and me:

Thou seest they now regard me not;

But all do follow thee.

And if I have so far presum'd,

With prying in thine eyes,

Yet let not comfort be consum'd,

That in thy pity lies.

But as thou art that Phillis fair,

That Fortune favour gives,

So let not Love die in despair,
That in thy favour lives.
The deer do browse upon the briar;
The birds do pick the cherries:
And will not Beauty grant Desire
One handful of her berries?
If it be so that thou hast sworn,
That none shall look on thee;
Yet let me know thou dost not scorn
To cast a look on me.

But if thy beauty make thee proud,
Think then what is ordain'd:

The heavens have never yet allow'd

That Love should be disdain'd.

Then lest the fates that favour Love
Should curse thee for unkind,
Let me report, for thy behove,
The honour of thy mind.
Let Coridon, with full consent,
Set down what he hath seen:
That Phillida with Love's content,
Is sworn the Shepherd's Queen.

A SHEPHERD'S DREAM.

By the same.

A SILLY Shepherd lately sate

Among a flock of sheep:

Where musing long on this and that,

At last he fell asleep.

And in the slumber as he lay,

He gave a piteous groan:

He thought his sheep were run away;

And he was left alone.

He whoopt, he whistled, and he call'd;

But not a sheep came near him: