Oh land delightsome, oh thou river pure
Which bathest her fair face and brilliant eyes
And winn'st a virtue from their living light,
I envy you each clear and comely guise
In which she moves. (Sonnet 129.)
These recall Nais in Theocritus:
When she crept or trembling footsteps laid,
Green bright and soft she made
Wood, water, earth, and stone; yea, with conceit
The grasses freshened 'neath her palms and feet.