I ask'd some Lillyes why so white,
50They from their fellowes were;
Who answered me, that Cynthia's sight,
Had made them looke so cleare:
I ask'd a nodding Violet why,
It sadly hung the head,
It told me Cynthia late past by,
Too soone from it that fled:
A bed of Roses saw I there,
Bewitching with their grace:
Besides so wondrous sweete they were,
60That they perfum'd the place,
I of a Shrube of those enquir'd,
From others of that kind,
Who with such virtue them enspir'd,
It answer'd (to my minde).
As the base Hemblocke were we such,
The poysned'st weed that growes,
Till Cynthia by her god-like tuch,
Transform'd vs to the Rose:
Since when those Frosts that winter brings
70Which candy euery greene,
Renew vs like the Teeming Springs,
And we thus Fresh are scene.
At length I on a Fountaine light,
Whose brim with Pincks was platted;
The Banck with Daffadillies dight,
With grasse like Sleaue was matted,
When I demanded of that Well,
What power frequented there;
Desiring, it would please to tell
80What name it vsde to beare.
It tolde me it was Cynthias owne,
Within whose cheerefull brimmes,
That curious Nimph had oft beene knowne
To bath her snowy Limmes.
Since when that Water had the power,
Lost Mayden-heads to restore,
And make one Twenty in an howre,
Of Esons age before.