And thou, unlucky Muse, that wont'st to ease
My musing mind, yet canst not when thou should;
Both Pipe and Muse shall sore the while abye."
So broke his oaten pipe, and down did lie.
By that, the welked Phœbus gan availe
His weary wain; and now the frosty Night
Her mantle black through heaven gan overhale:
Which seen, the pensive boy, half in despite,
Arose, and homeward drove his sunned sheep,
Whose hanging heads did seem his careful case to weep.