That Phoebusin his lofty race,
      Oft layes aside his beames
    And comes to coole his glowing face
      In these delicious streames;

    Oft spreading Vines clime vp the Cleeues,
      Whose ripned clusters there, 70
    Their liquid purple drop, which driues
      A Vintage through the yeere.

    Those Cleeues whose craggy sides are clad
      With Trees of sundry sutes,
    Which make continuall summer glad,
      Euen bending with their fruits,

    Some ripening, ready some to fall,
      Some blossom’d, some to bloome,
    Like gorgeous hangings on the wall
      Of some rich princely Roome:  80

    Pomegranates, Lymons, Cytrons, so
      Their laded branches bow,
    Their leaues in number that outgoe
      Nor roomth will them alow.

    There in perpetuall Summers shade,
      Apolloes Prophets sit,
    Among the flowres that neuer fade,
      But flowrish like their wit;

    To whom the Nimphes vpon their Lyres,
      Tune many a curious lay, 90
    And with their most melodious Quires
      Make short the longest day.

    The thrice three Virgins heavenly Cleere,
      Their trembling Timbrels sound,
    Whilst the three comely Graces there
      Dance many a dainty Round,

    Decay nor Age there nothing knowes,
      There is continuall Youth,
    As Time on plant or creatures growes,
      So still their strength renewth. 100

    The Poets Paradice this is,
      To which but few can come;
    The Muses onely bower of blisse
      Their Deare Elizium.

    Here happy soules, (their blessed bowers,
      Free from the rude resort
    Of beastly people) spend the houres,
      In harmelesse mirth and sport,

    Then on to the Elizian plaines
      Apollo doth invite you 110
    Where he prouides with pastorall straines,
      In Nimphals to delight you.

The first Nimphall

RODOPE and DORIDA.

This Nimphall of delights doth treat, Choice beauties, and proportions neat, Of curious shapes, and dainty features Describd in two most perfect creatures.

    When Phoebus with a face of mirth,
    Had flong abroad his beames,
    To blanch the bosome of the earth,
    And glaze the gliding streames. 
    Within a goodly Mertle groue,
    Vpon that hallowed day
    The Nimphes to the bright Queene of loue
    Their vowes were vsde to pay. 
    Faire Rodope and Dorida