Burst forth my teares, assist my forward grief,
And show what pain imperious Love provokes.
Kind tender lambs, lament Love's scant relief,
And pine, since pensive Care my freedom yokes.
O pine, to see me pine, my tender flocks.
Sad pining Care, that never may have peace,
At Beauty's gate in hope of pity knocks;
But Mercy sleeps while deept Disdain increase,
And Beauty Hope in her fair bosom locks.
O grieve to hear my frife, my tender flocks.
Like to the winds my sighs have winged been;
Yet are my sighs and suits repaid with mocks;
I plead, yet she repineth at my teen.
O ruthless rigour harder than the rocks,
That both the shepherd kills, and his poor flocks