“But now, ye shepheard lasses! who shall lead
Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes*? 
Or who shall dight** your bowres, sith she is dead
That was the lady of your holy-dayes? 
Let now your blisse be turned into bale, 320
And into plaints convert your ioyous playes,
And with the same fill every hill and dale.
  [* Virelayes, roundelays.]
  [** Dight, deck.]

“Let bagpipe never more be heard to shrill,
That may allure the senses to delight,
Ne ever shepheard sound his oaten quill 325
Unto the many*, that provoke them might
To idle pleasance; but let ghastlinesse
And drearie horror dim the chearfull light,
To make the image of true heavinesse.
  [* Many, company.]

“Let birds be silent on the naked spray, 330
And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells;
Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay,
And parching drouth drie up the cristall wells;
Let th’earth be barren, and bring foorth no flowres,
And th’ayre be fild with noyse of dolefull knells, 335
And wandring spirits walke untimely howres.

“And Nature, nurse of every living thing,
Let rest her selfe from her long wearinesse,
And cease henceforth things kindly forth to bring,
But hideous monsters full of uglinesse; 340
For she it is that hath me done this wrong;
No nurse, but stepdame cruell, mercilesse. 
Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong.

IV.

“My little flock, whom earst I lov’d so well,
And wont to feed with finest grasse that grew, 345
Feede ye hencefoorth on bitter astrofell*,
And stinking smallage, and unsaverie rew;
And when your mawes are with those weeds corrupted,
Be ye the pray of wolves; ne will I rew
That with your carkasses wild beasts be glutted. 350
  [* Astrofell, (probably) starwort.  See Astrophel, v. 184-196.]

“Ne worse to you, my sillie sheepe, I pray,
Ne sorer vengeance wish on you to fall
Than to my selfe, for whose confusde decay**
To carelesse heavens I doo daylie call;
But heavens refuse to heare a wretches cry; 355
And cruell Death doth scorn to come at call,
Or graunt his boone that most desires to dye.
  [* Decay, destruction.]

“The good and righteous he away doth take,
To plague th’unrighteous which alive remaine;
But the ungodly ones he doth forsake, 360
By living long to multiplie their paine;
Else surely death should be no punishment,
As the Great Iudge at first did it ordaine,
But rather riddance from long languishment.