Forever second where she sits, however fair I be:
I will be lady of his love, and he shall worship me;
I will be lady of his herds and stoop to his degree,
At home where kids and fatlings grow.”
Sped a shepherd from the height headlong down to look,
White lambs followed, lured by love of their shepherd’s crook:
He turned neither east nor west, neither north nor south,
But knelt right down to May, for love of her sweet-singing mouth;
Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks in parching hillside drought;
Forgot himself for weal or woe.