Often he used of his keep A sacrifice to bring, Now with a kid, now with a sheep, The altars hallowing. So louted he unto his Lord, Such favour couth he find, That never sithens was abhorr'd The simple shepheards' kind. And such, I ween, the brethren were That came from Canaän, The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere The flocks of mighty Pan. But nothing such thilk shepheard was Whom Ida hill did bear, That left his flock to fetch a lass, Whose love he bought too dear. For he was proud, that ill was paid, (No such must shepheards be!) And with lewd lust was overlaid; Two things doen ill agree. But shepheard must be meek and mild, Well-eyed, as Argus was, With fleshly follies undefiled, And stout as steed of brass. Such one (said Algrind) Moses was, That saw his Maker's face, His face, more clear then crystal glass, And spake to him in place. This had a brother, (his name I knew,) The first of all his cote, A shepheard true, yet not so true As he that erst I hote. Whilome all these were low and lief, And loved their flocks to feed; They never stroven to be chief, And simple was their weed: But now (thanked be God therefore!) The world is well amend, Their weeds be not so nighly wore; Such simplesse might them shend! They be yclad in purple and pall, So hath their God them blist; They reign and rulen over all, And lord it as they list; Ygirt with belts of glittering gold, (Might they good shepheards been!) Their Pan their sheep to them has sold, I say as some have seen. For Palinode (if thou him ken) Yode late on pilgrimage To Rome, (if such be Rome,) and then He saw thilk misusage; For shepheards (said he) there doen lead, As lords done other where; Their sheep have crusts, and they the bread; The chips, and they the cheer: They have the fleece, and eke the flesh, (O seely sheep the while!) The corn is theirs, let others thresh, Their hands they may not file. They have great store and thrifty stocks, Great friends and feeble foes; What need them caren for their flocks, Their boys can look to those. These wisards welter in wealth's waves, Pamper'd in pleasures deep; They have fat kerns, and leany knaves, Their fasting flocks to keep. Sike mister men be all misgone, They heapen hills of wrath; Such surly shepheards have we none, They keepen all the path. MOR. Here is a great deal of good matter Lost for lack of telling; Now sicker I see thou dost but clatter, Harm may come of melling. Thou meddlest more than shall have thank, To witen shepheards' wealth; When folk be fat, and riches rank, It is a sign of health. But say me, what is Algrind, he