The song of the Shepherds.
As huge as is the world we see
With all the things that in it be,
⟨p. 26⟩Yet nothing is so strong and sure,
That can for ever here endure.
Almighty God which all maintains,
Can nothing spy that ay remains,
Except him self: all else each one
Endure short time, and soon are gone.
The sun with bright and burning beams
Goes casting forth his cheerful gleams,
As long as day in sky doth last.
Then darksome night doth over cast,
All kind of things both foul and fair,
With coal-black wings aloft in air.
And of the moon what shall we say,
Which never keepeth at a stay?
Sometimes with horns she doth appear:
Sometime half […]: now thick, now clear:
Anon with round and fulsome face
The night she fro the sky doth chase.
The twinkling stars above on high
Run rolling round about the sky,
One while with weather fair and clear,
Another while with louring cheer.
Two days together match, and ye
Them like in all points shall not see.
The one doth pass more swift away,
The other longer while doth stay.
The one, as though it did us spite,
⟨p. 27⟩Bereaves us of the cheerful light:
The other with his colour bright
Doth joy our hart and dim our sight.
One burns the world with heat from skies,
With frost and cold another dyes.
With purple, green, blew, white, and red
The earth erewhile is overspread.
Anon a blast of nipping cold
Makes freshest things look sere and old.
The rivers with their waters moist
Above their banks are often hoist,
And pass their bounds with rage so far,
That they the ploughman's hope do mar.
And afterward they fall within
Their channels, running lank and thin.
And therefore whoso doth him ground,
On aught that in the world is found,
Beneath or in the starry skies,
I say I count him nothing wise.
What then of him is to be said,
Whose hope on man is wholly staid?
Each living creature subject is
To endless inconveniences:
And yet among them all, the sun,
In all his course which he doth run,
Beholdeth not a feebler wight,
Than man is in his chiefest plight.
⟨p. 28⟩For he that is most wise and stout,
Is so besieged round about,
And so assailed with vices strong,
That often he is thrown along.
What a fool is he, whose hart
Thinks to be free from woe and smart,
So long as he doth live on mould?
But if that any creature would
Be sure taccumplish that desire:
He must go set his hart more higher.
The song of the Shepherds.
As howge as is the world we see
With all the things that in it be,
⟨p. 26⟩Yet nothing is so strong and sure,
That can for euer here endure.
Almighty God which all mainteynes,
Can nothing spie that ay remaynes,
Except him selfe: all else ech one
Indure short time, and soone are gone.
The sunne with bright and burning beames
Goes casting forth his cheerefull gleames,
As long as day in skie doth last.
Then darksom night doth ouer cast,
All kind of thinges both fowle and fayre,
With coleblacke winges aloft in ayre.
And of the moone what shall we say,
Which neuer keepeth at a stay?
Sometimes with hornes she doth appeere:
Sometime halfe 〈…〉: now thicke, now cleere:
Anon with rownd and fulsom face
The night she fro the skie doth chace.
The twincling starres aboue on hye
Ronne rolling rownd about the skye,
One while with wether fayre and cleere,
Another while with lowring cheere.
Two dayes togither match, and ye
Them like in all poynts shall not see.
The one doth passe more swift away,
The other longer while doth stay.
The one, as though it did vs spyght,
⟨p. 27⟩Bereeues vs of the cheerfull lyght:
The other with his color bryght
Doth ioy our hart and dim our sight.
One burnes the world with heate from skyes,
With frost and cold another dyes.
With purple, greene, blew, white, and red
The earth earwhile is ouerspred.
Anon a blast of nipping cold
Maks freshest thinges looke seare and old.
The riuers with their waters moyst
Aboue their bankes are often hoyst,
And passe their bownds with rage so farre,
That they the plowmans hope doe marre.
And afterward they fall within
Their chanells, ronning lank and thin.
And therefore whoso doth him grownd,
On awght that in the world is fownd,
Beneath or in the starrie skyes,
I say I count him nothing wyze.
What then of him is to be sayd,
Whose hope on man is wholly stayd?
Ech liuing creature subiect is
To endlesse inconueniencis:
And yit among them all, the sunne,
In all his course which he doth runne,
Beholdeth not a feebler wyght,
Than man is in his cheefest plyght.
⟨p. 28⟩For he that is most wyze and stowt,
Is so beseeged rownd abowt,
And so assayld with vices strong,
That often he is throwen along.
What a foole is he, whose hart
Thinks to be free from wo and smart,
So long as he doth liue on mowld?
But if that any creature wowld
Be sure taccumplish that desire:
He must goe set his hart more higher.
