So great his Name, so gentle was his Nature.
But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium,
(The happy Hauen of eternall rest:)
And let me to my former matter come,
Prouing by Reason, Shepheard's life is best,
Because he harbours Vertue in his Brest;
And is content (the chiefest thing of all)
With any fortune that shall him befall.
He sits all Day lowd-piping on a Hill,
The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace,