EIGHTH SONG.
In a grove most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made;
May then young, his pied weeds showing,
New perfumed with flowers fresh growing;
ASTROPHEL with STELLA sweet,
Did for mutual comfort meet;
Both within themselves oppressed,
But each in the other blessed.
Him great harms had taught much care;
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare:
But her sight his cares did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish.
Wept they had, alas the while,
But now tears themselves did smile;
While their eyes by love directed,
Interchangeably reflected.
Sigh they did, but now betwixt
Sighs of woe were glad sighs mixt;
With arms crossed, yet testifying
Restless rest, and living dying.
Their ears hungry of each word,
Which the dear tongue would afford:
But their tongues restrained from walking,
Till their hearts had ended talking.
