Where daie’s great monarch drawne in carre of gold?

Where night’s bright queene, so beautious to behold?

O still, they do remaine in heau’n’s faire frame,

Although I neuer more shall see the same.

114.

Where now the valley greene, and mountaine bare,

The riuer, forrest, wood, and crystall springs,

The hauke, the hound, the hinde, the swift-foot hare,

The lute’s sweet straine, the voice that sweetly sings,

And princely sports in courts of mightie kings?