Entombed in darkness, and the earth unspun
Ere they expire, that all succeeding times
May know and tell the subject of these rhymes.
Assist me, Flora, that I may with grace
1180Worthy its honour, shadow forth that place
Of spreading trees, sweet herbs, and fragrant flowers,
Enriched with pleasing walks and shady bowers.
Each twig, with amorous touch, embraced his mate,
Like Bacchus' sacred tree his propping state;
Or ivy, elm, that neither sun nor wind