Come Nymphs and with your Rebecks ring his knell, Warble forth your wamenting harmony, And at his drery fatall obsequie, with Cypres bowes, 10 maske your fayre Browes, And beat your breasts to chyme his burying peale. Thy birth-day was to all our ioye, the euen, And on thy death this dolefull song we sing, Sweet Child of _Pan_, and the _Castalian_ spring, vnto our endless mone, from vs why art thou gone, To fill vp that sweete Angels quier in heauen. O whylome thou thy lasses dearest loue, When with greene Lawrell she hath crowned thee, 20 Immortal mirror of all Poesie: the Muses treasure, the Graces pleasure, Reigning with Angels now in heauen aboue. Our mirth is now depriu'd of all her glory, Our Taburins in dolefull dumps are drownd. Our viols want their sweet and pleasing sound, our melodie is mar'd and we of ioyes debard, O wicked world so mutable and transitory. 30 O dismall day, bereauer of delight, O stormy winter, sourse of all our sorrow, O most vntimely and eclipsed morrow, to rob us quite, of all delight, Darkening that starre which euer shone so bright. Oh _Elphin_, _Elphin_, Though thou hence be gone, In spight of death yet shalt thou liue for aye, Thy Poesie is garlanded with Baye: and still shalt blaze 40 thy lasting prayse: Whose losse poore shepherds euer shall bemone. Come Girles, and with Carnations decke his graue, With damaske Roses and the hyacynt: Come with sweete Williams, Marioram and Mynt, with precious Balmes, with hymnes and psalmes, This funerall deserues no lesse at all to haue. But see where _Elphin_ sits in fayre Elizia, Feeding his flocke on yonder heauenly playne, 50 Come and behold, you louely shepheards swayne, piping his fill on yonder hill, Tasting sweete _Nectar_, and _Ambrosia_. _From Eclogue vij_ _Borrill._