‘Alexis, here she stay’d, among these pines,
Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair:
Here did she spread the treasure of her hair,
More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines;
Here sat she by these musked eglantines;
The happy flowers seem yet the print to bear:
Her voice did sweeten here thy sugar’d lines,
To which winds, trees, beasts, birds, did lend an ear.
She here me first perceiv’d, and here a morn
Of bright carnations did o’erspread her face: