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| PHILLIS 1 kept sheep along the western plains, | |
| And Corydon did feed his flocks hard by: | |
| This shepherd was the flower of all the swains | |
| That traced the downs of fruitful Thessaly; | |
| And Phillis, that did far her flocks surpass | 5 |
| In silver hue, was thought a bonny lass. | |
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| A bonny lass, quaint in her country ’tire, | |
| Was lovely Phillis,—Corydon swore so; | |
| Her locks, her looks, did set the swain on fire, | |
| He left his lambs, and he began to woo; | 10 |
| He looked, he sighed, he courted with a kiss, | |
| No better could the silly swad than this. | |
| |
| He little knew to paint a tale of love, | |
| Shepherds can fancy, but they cannot say: | |
| Phillis ’gan smile, and wily thought to prove | 15 |
| What uncouth grief poor Corydon did pay; | |
| She asked him how his flocks or he did fare, | |
| Yet pensive thus his sighs did tell his care. | |
| |
| The shepherd blushed when Phillis questioned so, | |
| And swore by Pan it was not for his flocks; | 20 |
| “’Tis love, fair Phillis, breedeth all this woe, | |
| My thoughts are trapt within thy lovely locks; | |
| Thine eye hath pierced, thy face hath set on fire; | |
| Fair Phillis kindleth Corydon’s desire.” | |
| |
| “Can shepherds love?” said Phillis to the swain. | 25 |
| “Such saints as Phillis,” Corydon replied. | |
| “Then when they lust can many fancies feign,” | |
| Said Phillis. This not Corydon denied, | |
| That lust had lies; “But love,” quoth he, “says truth: | |
| Thy shepherd loves, then, Phillis, what ensu’th?” | 30 |
| |
| Phillis was won, she blushed and hung the head; | |
| The swain stept to, and cheered her with a kiss: | |
| With faith, with troth, they struck the matter dead; | |
| So usèd they when men thought not amiss: | |
| This love begun and ended both in one; | 35 |
| Phillis was loved, and she liked Corydon. | |
