Their tender flocks, now being fully fed,
For feare of wetting them before their bed;
Then came to them a good old aged syre,
Whose siluer lockes bedeckt his beard and hed,
With shepheards hooke in hand, and fit attyre,
That wild the damzell rise; the day did now expyre.
He was to weet by common voice esteemed xiv
The father of the fayrest Pastorell,
And of her selfe in very deede so deemed;
Yet was not so, but as old stories tell