| |
|
YE learned
sisters which haue oftentimes
beene to me ayding,
others to adorne:
Whom ye thought worthy of your
gracefull rymes,
That euen the greatest did not
greatly scorne
To heare theyr names sung in your
simply layes,
But ioyed in theyr prayse.
And
when ye lift your owne mishaps to mourne,
Which
death, or loue, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
Your
string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
And teach
the woods and waters to lament
Your dolefull
dreriment.
Now lay those sorrowfull complaints
aside,
And hauing all your heads with girland crownd,
Helpe me mine owne loues prayses to resound,
Ne
let the same of any be enuide,
So Orpheus did for
his owne bride,
So I vnto my selfe alone will sing,
The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring.
|
|
|
