Of hills, vales, groves, and flowery lands,
And strains of military bands.
And we will, sitting on the car,
Where other nymphs and shepheards are,
Shoot up and down, in rise and fall,
With catch (of breath) for madrigal.
My manly arm about thy waist,
For belt and clasp, Love, interlaced;
Thy skirt beflowered, and thy head-gear
The latest thing from Swan and Edgar.