Alexander Barclay, from “Certayne Ecloges”

Amintas first speaketh.
The winter snowes, all covered is the grounde,
The north-wind blowes sharpe and with ferefull sound,
The longe ise sicles at the ewes hang,
The streame is frosen, the night is cold and long,
Where botes rowed nowe cartes haue passage,
From yoke the oxen be losed and bondage,
The ploweman resteth avoyde of businesse,
Save when he tendeth his harnes for to dresse,
Mably his wife sitteth before the fyre
All blacke and smoky clothed in rude attire,
Sething some grewell, and sturring the pulment
Of pease or frument, a noble meat for lent,
The summer season men counted nowe laudable
Whose feruour before they thought intollerable,
The frosty winter and wether temperate
Which men then praysed they nowe disprayse and hate,
Colde they desired, but nowe it is present
They braule and grutche their mindes not content.
Thus mutable men them pleased can not holde,
At great heat grutching, and grutching when it is cold.

Faustus
All pleasour present of men is counted small,
Desire obtayned some counteth nought at all,
What men hope after that semeth great and deare,
As light by distaunce appeareth great and cleare,

Amintas
Eche time and season hath his delite and joyes,
Loke in the stretes beholde the little boyes,
Howe in fruite season for joy they sing and hop,
In lent is eche one full busy with his top,
And nowe in winter for all the greeuous colde
All rent and ragged a man may them beholde,
They have great pleasour supposing well to dine,
When men be busied in killing of fat swine,
They get the bladder and blowe it great and thin,
With many beanes or peason put within,
It ratleth, soundeth, and shineth clere and fayre,
While it is throwen and caste vp in the ayre,
Eche one contendeth and hath a great delite
With foote and with hande the bladder for to smite,
If it fall to grounde they lifte it vp agayne,
This-wise to labour they count it for no payne,
Renning and leaping they drive away the colde.
The sturdie plowmen lustie, strong and bolde
Overcommeth the winter with driving the foote-ball,
Forgetting labour and many a grevous fall.

Faustus
Men labour sorer in fruiteles vanitie
Then in fayre workes of great utilitie,
In suche trifles we labour for domage,
Worke we despise which bringeth aduauntage.

Amintas
Touching their labour it can not me displease,
While we be in rest and better here at ease
In the warme litter, small payne hath little hire,
Here may we walow while milke is on the fire,
If it be crudded of bread we nede no crome,
If thou bide Faustus thereof thou shalt have some.

Alexander Barclay, 1475-1552 – “Certayne Ecloges” from Penguin Book of Renaissance Verse