My flocks feed not

My flocks feed not
My ewes breed not
My rams speed not
All is amiss
Love is dying
Faith's defying
Heart's denying
Causer of this
All our merry jigs are quite forgot
All my Lady's love is lost, God wot
Where our faith was firmly fix'd in love
There annoy is placed without remove
Our silly cross
Wrought all my loss
O frowning fortune
Cursed fickle dame
For now I see inconstancy
More in women than in many men to be

In black mourn I
All fear scorn I
Love hath forlorn me, living in thrall
Heart is bleeding
All help needing
O cruel speeding, fraught with gall
My shepherd's pipe will sound no deal
My wether's bell, rings doleful knell
My curtal dog, that won't to havе play'd
Plays not at all, but seems afraid
My sighs so deep
Procure to weep
With howling noise, to see my doleful plight;
How sighs rеsound!
Through harkless ground
Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight

Clear wells spring not
Sweet birds sing not
Loud bells ring not cheerfully
Herds stand weeping
Flocks all sleeping
Nymphs back creeping fearfully
All our pleasures known to us, poor swains
All our merry meetings on the plains
All our evening sports from us are fled
All our loves are lost, for love is dead
Farewell, sweet lass!
The like ne'er was
For a sweet content, the cause of all my woe;
Poor Coridon must live alone
Other help for him I know, there's none