Who taught me homely, as I can, to make:
He, whilst he lived, was the sovereign head
Of shepheards all that be with love ytake;
Well couth he wail his woes, and lightly slake
The flames which love within his heart had bred,
And tell us merry tales to keep us wake,
The while our sheep about us safely fed.
Now dead he is, and lieth wrapt in lead,
(O why should Death on him such outrage shew!)
And all his passing skill with him is fled,