An Eclogue Or Pastoral Between Endymion Porter And Lycidas Herrick, Set And Sung.

End.    Ah! Lycidas, come tell me why     Thy whilom merry oat     By thee doth so neglected lie,     And never purls a note?     I prithee speak. Lyc. I will. End. Say on.     Lyc.    'Tis thou, and only thou,     That art the cause, Endymion.     End.    For love's sake, tell me how.     Lyc.    In this regard: that thou do'st play     Upon another plain,     And for a rural roundelay     Strik'st now a courtly strain.     Thou leav'st our hills, our dales, our bowers,     Our finer fleeced sheep,     Unkind to us, to spend thine hours     Where shepherds should not keep.     I mean the court: Let Latmos be     My lov'd Endymion's court.     End.    But I the courtly state would see.     Lyc.    Then see it in report.     What has the court to do with swains,     Where Phyllis is not known?     Nor does it mind the rustic strains     Of us, or Corydon.     Break, if thou lov'st us, this delay.     End.    Dear Lycidas, e're long     I vow, by Pan, to come away     And pipe unto thy song.     Then Jessamine, with Florabell,     And dainty Amaryllis,     With handsome-handed Drosomell     Shall prank thy hook with lilies.     Lyc.    Then Tityrus, and Corydon,     And Thyrsis, they shall follow     With all the rest; while thou alone     Shalt lead like young Apollo.     And till thou com'st, thy Lycidas,     In every genial cup,     Shall write in spice: Endymion 'twas     That kept his piping up.     And, my most lucky swain, when I shall live to see     Endymion's moon to fill up full, remember me:     Meantime, let Lycidas have leave to pipe to thee.