XXV.

CORIN'S FATE.

Only the three first stanzas of this song are ancient; these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Q. Elizabeth. As they seemed to want application, this has been attempted by a modern hand.

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Corin, most unhappie swaine, Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke? Little foode is on the plaine; Full of danger is the rocke:

Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes; 5 Forests tangled are with brakes: Meadowes subject are to floodes; Moores are full of miry lakes.

Yet to shun all plaine, and hill, Forest, moore, and meadow-ground, 10 Hunger will as surely kill: How may then reliefe be found?

[Such is hapless Corins fate: Since my waywarde love begunne, Equall doubts begett debate 15 What to seeke, and what to shunne.

Spare to speke, and spare to speed; Yet to speke will move disdaine: If I see her not I bleed, Yet her sight augments my paine. 20

What may then poor Corin doe? Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell; For to linger thus in woe Is the lover's sharpest hell.]

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