CHAPTER VII
COMEDY OF CORYDON AND AMARYLLIS
Among the rest a shepherd, though but young,
Yet harten’d to his pipe, with all the skill
His few years could, began to fit his quill,
Willie he hight. . . .
Fair was the day, but fairer was the maid
Who that day’s morn into the green-woods stray’d.
Sweet was the air, but sweeter was her breathing,
Such rare perfumes the roses are bequeathing.
Browne, “Britannia’s Pastorals.”