Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time, An' soon I made me ready; For roads were clad frae side to side Wi' monie a wearie body, In droves that day.

My wearie daies in dolour and disdalne!

455 "Yet, whilest I in this wretched vale doo stay, My wearie feete shall ever wandring be, That still I may be readie on my way

howre 315 From golden Oeta gan proceede withall; Whenas the shepheard after this sharpe stowre**, Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall, Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare, And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare.

In this so pleasant place the shepheards flocke Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest, On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke, 235 Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best; The whiles the shepheard self, tending his stocke, Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest, Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed him Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim.

The wearie traveiler wandring that way, Therein did often quench his thirsty head

Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end; Or shall their ruthlesse torment never cease, But al my days in pining languor spend, Without hope of asswagement or release? Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace, Or make agreement with her thrilling eyes; But that their cruelty doth still increace, And dayly more augment my miseryes?