"Yet will I sing; but who can better sing Than thou thyselfe thine owne selfes valiance, That, whilest thou livedst, madest the forrests ring, 325 And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce, And shepheards leave their lambs unto mischaunce, To runne thy shrill Arcadian pipe to heare: O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were!