O happy herse!
Make haste, ye shepheards, thither to revert.
O joyful verse!
"Dido is gone afore; (whose turn shall be the next?)
There lives she with the blessed gods in bliss,
There drinks she nectar with ambrosia mixt,
And joys enjoys that mortal men do miss.
The honour now of highest gods she is,
That whilome was poor shepheards' pride,
While here on earth she did abide.