the whiles the foxe is crept Into the hole the which the badger swept.
"He now is dead, and all his glorie gone, And all his greatnes vapoured to nought, That as a glasse upon the water shone, 220 Which vanisht quite so soone as it was sought. His name is worne alreadie out of thought, Ne anie poet seekes him to revive; Yet manie poets honourd him alive.
"Ne doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, 225 Care now his idle bagpipe up to raise, Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout Of shepherd groomes, which wont his songs to praise: Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise, Untill he quite* him of this guiltie blame. 230 Wake, shepheards boy, at length awake for shame! [* _Quite_, acquit.]
"And who so els did goodnes by him game, And who so els his bounteous minde did trie*, Whether he shepheard be, or shepheards swaine, (For manie did, which doo it now denie,) 235 Awake, and to his song a