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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408219" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Harpalus. An Ancient English Pastoral</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Phylida was a faire mayde,<br>As fresh as any flowre;<br>Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde<br>To be his paramour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Harpalus, and eke Corin,<br>Were herdmen both yfere;<br>And Phylida could twist and spinne,<br>And thereto sing full clere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Phylida was all to coye<br>For Harpalus to winne;<br>For Corin was her onely joye,<br>Who forst her not a pinne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How often would she flowers twine,<br>How often garlandes make<br>Of couslips and of colombine?<br>And al for Corin's sake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Corin, he had haukes to lure,<br>And forced more the field;<br>Of lovers lawe he toke no cure:<br>For once he was begilde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Harpalus prevailed nought,<br>His labour all was lost:<br>For he was fardest from her thought,<br>And yet he loved her most.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore waxt he both pale and leane,<br>And drye as clot of clay;<br>His fleshe it was consumed cleane;<br>His colour gone away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His beard it had not long be shave;<br>His heare hong all unkempt:<br>A man most fit even for the grave,<br>Whom spitefull love had spent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His eyes were red, and all 'fore-watcht;'<br>His face besprent with teares;<br>It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,'<br>In mids of his dispaires.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His clothes were blacke, and also bare;<br>As one forlorne was he;<br>Upon his head alwayes he ware<br>A wreath of wyllow tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His beastes he kept upon the hyll,<br>And he sate in the dale;<br>And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,<br>He gan to tell his tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh Harpalus!' (thus would he say)<br>'Unhappiest under sunne!<br>The cause of thine unhappy day,<br>By love was first begunne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For thou wentest first by sute to seeke<br>A tigre to make tame,<br>That settes not by thy love a leeke,<br>But makes thy griefe her game.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'As easy it were for to convert<br>The frost into 'a' flame;<br>As for to turne a frowarde hert,<br>Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Corin he liveth carelesse;<br>He leapes among the leaves;<br>He eats the frutes of thy redresse;<br>Thou 'reapst,' he takes the sheaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My beastes a whyle your foode refraine,<br>And harke your herdmans sounde,<br>Whom spitefull love, alas! hath slaine,<br>Through-girt with many a wounde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O happy be ye, beastes wilde,<br>That here your pasture takes;<br>I se that ye be not begilde<br>Of these your faithfull makes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The hart he feedeth by the hinde;<br>The bucke harde by the do;<br>The turtle dove is not unkinde<br>To him that loves her so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The ewe she hath by her the ramme;<br>The young cow hath the bull;<br>The calfe with many a lusty lambe<br>Do fede their hunger full.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But wel-away! that nature wrought<br>The, Phylida, so faire!<br>For I may say that I have bought <br>Thy beauty all to deare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'What reason is that crueltie<br>With beautie should have part?<br>Or els that such a great tyranny <br>Should dwell in womans hart!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I see therefore to shape my death<br>She cruelly is prest;<br>To th' ende that I may want my breath:<br>My dayes been at the best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O Cupide, graunt this may request,<br>And do not stoppe thine eares:<br>That she may feele within her brest,<br>The paines of my dispaires;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Of Corin, 'who' is carelesse,<br>That she may crave her fee,<br>As I have done, in great distresse,<br>That loved her faithfully.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'But since that I shal die her slave,<br>Her slave and eke her thrall,<br>Write you, my frendes, upon my grave<br>This chaunce that is befall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''Here lieth unhappy Harpalus<br>By cruell love now slaine;<br>Whom Phylida unjustly thus <br>Hath murdred with disdaine.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Howard">Henry Howard</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408219" data-title="Harpalus. An Ancient English Pastoral de Henry Howard" data-description="Phylida was a faire mayde,
As fresh as any flowre;
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde
To be his paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corin,
Were herdmen both yfere;
And Phylida could twist and spinne,
And thereto sing full clere.

But Phylida was all to coy..."></div>
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