Quhare Flora maid the tender blewmis spreid
Throw kindlie dew and humouris nutrative,
Quhen goldin Titan, with his flammis reid,
Abone the seis rasit up his heid,
Diffounding[601] down his heit restorative
To every frute that nature maid on live,
Quhilk wes afore in-to the winter deid,
For stormis cald and frostis penitrive[602].
Ane silver fontane sprang of watter cleir
In-to that place quhare I approchit neir,