Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorn,
and all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight,
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne,
those prety pypes that did thy mates delight.
Those trustie mates, that loved thee so well,
Whom thou gav'st mirth: as they gave thee the bell.
Yet as thou earst with sweete roundelayes,
didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers:
So moughtst thou now in these refined layes,
delight the dainty eares of higher powers.
And so mought they in their deepe skanning skill
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quill.
And fare befall that Faerie Queene of thine,
in whose faire eyes love linked with vertue sits:
Enfusing by those bewties fiers devyne,
such high conceites into thy humble wits,
As raised hath poor pastors oaten reede,
From rusticke tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.
From To the learned Shepheard. Hobynoll.
[Verse by Gabriel Harvey on Spenser's The Faerie Queene]