"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,

Which as the daintiest,

Puts them down ever. For as my precious one

O'er thee doth travel,
She to pearl paragon

Turneth thy gravel.
Chorus. On thy bank
In a rank

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

Our mournful Philomel,
That rarest tuner,
Henceforth in April

Shall wake the sooner,
And to her shall complain
From the thick cover,
Redoubling every strain
Over and over:

For when my love too long
Her chamber keepeth ;

As though it suffered wrong,
The morning weepeth.
Chorus.-On thy bank
In a rank

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

Oft have I seen the Sun,
To do her honour,
Fix himself at his noon

To look upon her,
And hath gilt every grove,
Every hill near her,
With his flames from above,
Striving to cheer her:
And when she from his sight
Hath herself turned,
He, as it had been night,

In clouds hath mourned, Chorus.-On thy bank

In a rank

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

The verdant meads are seen,
When she doth view them,
In fresh and gallant green
Strait to renew them,

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 then 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.