And all the way their merry pipes they sound,
That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet[°] do weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring;
Who with the noyse awaked commeth out
To weet the cause, his weake steps governing,
And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout;
And with an yvie twyne his wast is girt about.