1.
Cloris, now thou art fled away,
Aminta’s Sheep are gone astray,
And all the joyes he took to see
His pretty Lambs run after thee.
Shee’s gone, shee’s gone, and he alway,
Sings nothing now but welladay.
2.
His Oaten pipe that in thy praise,
Was wont to play such roundelayes,