Whose burning Lust her modest eye doth quench,
Standing amazed at her heauenly sight,
(Beauty doth rauish Sense with sweet Delight)
Clearing Arcadia with a smoothed Browe
When Sun-bright smiles melts flakes of driuen snowe.
Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day,
And when Night comes drawes homeward to his Coate,
Singing a Iigge or merry Roundelay;
(For who sings commonly so merry a Noate,