1.
The fairest nymph the valleys
or mountains ever bred;
The shepherds’ joy,
So beautiful and coy,
Fair Phillida is dead!
On whom they all tended,
and carolled o’er the plains,
And for her sake
They roundelays did make,
Admired of rural swains.
‖: But cruel fates, the graces envying
of this blooming rose,
Now ready to disclose
With a frost untimely
Nipped this bud unkindly,
And so away her glory goes. :‖
2.
Diana was chief mourner
at these sad obsequies,
Who with her train
Went tripping over the plain
Singing doleful elegies.
Menalchas and Amyntas
with many shepherds mo’e,
Who did desire
Unto her love t’aspire,
In sable sad did go.
‖: Flora, the goddess that used to beautify
Phyllis’ dainty bow’rs
With sweet and fragrant flow’rs,
Now her grave adorning,
And her flowers mourning
Tears thereon in vain she show’rs. :‖
3.
Venus alone triumphed
to see this dismal day,
As in despair
That Phillida the fair
Her laws would not obey.
The blinded god his arrows
and shafts in vain had spent;
Her heart, alas,
Impenetrable was,
Nor would to love assent;
‖: At which affronts Cytherea, repining,
caused death with his dart
To pierce her tender heart,
But her noble spirit
Doth those joys inherit
Which ne’er more shall depart. :‖