Her charms united never can fupply THE FINAL FAREWELL. SE C T. CIV. AN EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF PEMBROKE; AND ANOTHER ON AN AMIABLE LADY. UNDERNEATH this fable hearse Lies the fubject of all verse, Sydney's fifter, Pembroke's mother. UNDERNEATH this ftone doth lic If she had a fingle fault, Leave it bury'd in this vault. BEN JONSON SECT. SECT. CV. A PLAINTIVE PASTORAL. THENOT. 'HY cloudy looks why melting thus in tears, COLINET. Tho' foft their notes, not so my wayward fate : THENOT. Small caufe, I ween, has lufty youth to plain; COLINET. COLINET. "Twill idly wafte thee, Thenot, a whole day, Shouldst thou give ear to all my grief can say. Thy ewes will wander, and thy heedlefs lambs With loud complaints require their abfent dams. THENOT. There's Lightfoot, he shall tend them close; and I, "Twixt whiles, across the plain will glance mine eye.. COLINET. Where to begin I know not, where to end: From thee, from me, alike the fhepherds fly.. THENOT. Sure thou in fome ill-chosen hour waft born, When blighting mildews fpoil the rifing corn; Or when the moon, by witchcraft charm'd, foreshows Thro' fad eclipfe a various train of woes. Untimely born, ill luck betides thee still. COLINET. COLINET. And can there, Thenot, be a greater ill? THENOT. Nor wolf, nor fox, nor rot, amongst our sheep; From these the shepherd's care his flock may keep: Against ill luck all cunning forefight fails; Whether we sleep or wake, it nought avails. COLINET. Ah me the while! ah me the luckless day! My face, grown wan thro' care and misery ? THENOT. ? And what the caufe that drew thee first away From thy lov'd home what tempted thee to stray? COLINET. A lewd defire ftrange lands and fwains to know : Ah God! that ever I should covet woe! With wand'ring feet, unblefs'd and fond of fame, I fought I know not what, befides a name. THENOT. THENOT. Or, footh to fay, didft thou not hither roam In hopes of wealth thou couldst not find at home? A rolling stone is ever bare of mofs : And, to their coft, green years old proverbs cross. COLINET. Small need there was, in flatt'ring hopes of gain, To drive my pining flock athwart the plain To distant Cam: fine gain at length, I trow, To hoard up to myself such deal of woe! My fheep quite spent thro' travel and ill fare, And, like their keeper, ragged grow and bare ; Here, on cold earth to make my nightly bed, And on a bending willow reft my head. 'Tis hard to bear the pinching cold with pain, And hard is want to the unpractis'd swain: But neither want nor pinching cold is hard, To blafting ftorms of calumny compar'd: Unkind as hail it falls, whofe pelting fhow'rs Destroy the tender herb and budding flow'rs. THENOT. Slander, we fhepherds count the greatest wrong; For, what wounds forer than an evil tongue? COLINET. Untoward lads, who pleafance take in fpite, Make mock of all the ditties I endite. |