A Paradice on earth is found,
Though farre from vulgar sight,
Which with those pleasures doth abound
That it Elizium hight.
Where, in Delights that neuer fade,
The Muses lulled be,
And sit at pleasure in the shade
Of many a stately tree,
Which no rough Tempest makes to reele
10Nor their straight bodies bowes,
Their lofty tops doe neuer feele
The weight of winters snowes;
In Groues that euermore are greene,
No falling leafe is there,
But Philomel (of birds the Queene)
In Musicke spends the yeare.
The Merle vpon her mertle Perch,
There to the Mavis sings,
Who from the top of some curld Berch
20Those notes redoubled rings;
There Daysyes damaske euery place
Nor once their beauties lose,
That when proud Phœbus hides his face
Themselues they scorne to close.
The Pansy and the Violet here,
As seeming to descend,
Both from one Root, a very payre,
For sweetnesse yet contend,
And pointing to a Pinke to tell
30Which beares it, it is loath,
To iudge it; but replyes for smell
That it excels them both.
Wherewith displeasde they hang their heads
So angry soone they grow
And from their odoriferous beds
Their sweets at it they throw.
The winter here a Summer is,
No waste is made by time,
Nor doth the Autumne euer misse
40The blossomes of the Prime.