Walking in bright Phoebus blaze, Where with heat oppressed I was, I got to a shady wood, Where green leaves did newly bud; And of grass lenty dwelling, Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling.
In this wood a man I met, On lamenting wholly set; Ruing ge of woate, Whence he was transformed late, Oo shepherds God retaining, Now in servile court remaining.
There he wandring maletent, Up and down perplexed went, Daring not to tell to me, Spake unto a seree, One among the rest eleg, These same words, or this affeg: "My old mates I grieve to see Void of me io be, Where we once our lovely sheep Lovingly like friends did keep; Oft each others friendship proving, riving, but in loving.
"But may love abiding be In poor shepherds base degree? It belongs to such aloo whom art of love is known: Seely shepherds are not witting What in art of love is fitting.
"Nay, what he art to those To whom we our love disclose? It is to be used then, When we do but flatter men: F……（内容加载失败！）
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