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¶Olde Damons Pastorall.
FRom Fortunes frownes and change remou'd,
wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding:
None of Damon more belou'd,
feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading.
Carelesse vvorldlings, outrage quelleth
all the pride and pompe of Cittie:
But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth,
(Sheepheards who delight in pittie.)
Whether grace of heauen betideth,
on our humble minds such pleasure:
Perfect peace with Swaines abideth,
loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure.
On the lower Plaines the thunder
little thriues, and nought preuaileth:
Yet in Citties breedeth wonder,
and the highest hills assaileth.
Enuie of a forraigne Tyrant
threatneth Kings, not Sheepheards humble:
Age makes silly Swaines delirant,
thirst of rule garres great men stumble.
What to other seemeth sorrie,
abiect state and humble biding:
Is our ioy and Country glorie,
highest states haue worse betiding.
Golden cups doo harbour poyson,
and the greatest pompe, dissembling:
Court of seasoned words hath foyson,
treason haunts in most assembling.
Homely breasts doo harbour quiet,
little feare, and mickle solace:
States suspect their bed and diet,
feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace.