"I first upon the mountains high
Built altars to thy name,
And grav'd it on the rocks thereby,
To propagate thy fame.

"I taught the shepherds on the downs
Of thee to form their lays :
'Twas I that fill'd the neighbouring towns
With ditties of thy praise.

"Thy colours I devis'd with care,

Which were unknown before: Which since that in their braided hair The nymphs and sylvans wore.

"Transform me to what shape you can, I pass not what it be:

Yea, what most hateful is to man,
So I may follow thee."

(Quoth she), "Most welcome to these woods

Too mean for one so true.

"Here from the hateful world we'll live,
A den of mere despight:
To idiots only that doth give,
Which be for sole delight.

"To people the infernal pit,

That more and more doth strive;
Where only villany is wit,
And devils only thrive.

"Whose vileness us shall never awe:
But here our sports shall be
Such as the golden world first saw,
Most innocent and free.

"Of simples in these groves that grow,
We'll learn the perfect skill:
The nature of each herb to know,

Which cures and which can kill.

"The waxen palace of the bee,

We seeking will surprise,
The curious workmanship to see
Of her full-laden thighs.

"We'll suck the sweets out of the comb And make the gods repine,

As they do feast in Jove's great room,
To see with what we dine.

"Yet when there haps a honey fall,
We'll lick the syrup'd leaves,
And tell the bees that theirs is gall
To this upon the greaves.

"The nimble squirrel noting here,

Her mossy dray that makes, And laugh to see the dusty deer Come bounding o'er the brakes.

"The spider's web to watch we'll stand, And when it takes the bee,

We'll help out of the tyrant's hand
The innocent to free.

"Sometime we'll angle at the brook, The freckled trout to take,

I in her eyes might view.

Which him our prey shall make.

"Of meddling with such subtle tools,

Such dangers that enclose,

The moral is, that painted fools

Are caught with silken shews.

"And when the moon doth once appear,

We'll trace the lower grounds,
When fairies in their ringlets there
Do dance their nightly rounds.

"And have a flock of turtle doves,
A guard on us to keep,
As witness of our honest loves,
To watch us till we sleep."

Which spoke, I felt such holy fires
To overspread my breast,
As lent life to my chaste desires,
And gave me endless rest.

By Cynthia thus do I subsist,

On earth heaven's only pride; Let her be mine, and let who list Take all the world beside.

THE TRENT.

NEAR to the silver Trent
Sirena dwelleth,

She to whom nature lent
All that excelleth ;
By which the Muses late,

And the neat Graces,
Have for their greater state
Taken their places;
Twisting an Anadem,

Wherewith to crown her,

As it belong'd to them

Most to renown her.
Chorus.-On thy bank
In a rank

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music

Along let them bring her.

Tagus and Pactolus

Are to thee debtor, Nor for their gold to us

Are they the better; Henceforth of all the rest, Be thou the river,

And every little grass
Broad itself spreadeth,
Proud that this bonny lass
Upon it treadeth :

Nor flower is so sweet

In this large cincture,

But it upon her feet

Leaveth some tincture. Chorus.-On thy bank

In a rank

Let thy swans sing her, And with their music

Along let them bring her.

The fishes in the flood

When she doth angle, For the hook strive agood Them to entangle ; And leaping on the land

From the clear water, Their scales upon the sand

Lavishly scatter; Therewith to pave the mold Whereon she passes,

So herself to behold

As in her glasses.
Chorus.-On thy bank
In a rank

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her.

When she looks out by night
The stars stand gazing,
Like comets to our sight

Fearfully blazing;
As wond'ring at her eyes,

With their much brightness, Which so amaze the skies,

Dimming their lightness. The raging tempests are calm When she speaketh, Such most delightsome balm From her lips breaketh. Chorus.-On thy bank

In a rank

Let thy swans ring her, And with their music

Along let them bring her.

In all our Brittany

There's not a fairer,

Nor can you fit any,

Should you compare her, Angels her eye-lids keep,

All hearts surprising; Which look while she doth sleep Like the sun's rising:

She alone of her kind

Knoweth true measure,
And her unmatched mind
Is heaven's treasure.

Chorus.-On thy bank
In a rank

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music

Along let them bring her.

Fair Dove and Darwent clear,
Boast ye your beauties,
To Trent your mistress here
Yet pay your duties.
My love was higher born

Tow'rds the full fountains,
Yet she doth moorland scorn
And the Peak mountains;
Nor would she none should dream
Where she abideth,

Humble as is the stream,

Which by her slideth.

Chorus.-On thy bank

In a rank

Let thy swans sing her, And with their music Along let them bring her.

Yet my poor rustic Muse,

Nothing can move her, Nor the means I can use,

Though her true lover: Many a long winter's night

Have I wak'd for her, Yet this my piteous plight

Nothing can stir her. All thy sands, silver Trent,

Down to the Humber, The sighs that I have spent Never can number.

Chorus.-On thy bank

In a rank

Let thy swans sing her, And with their music

Along let them bring her