Wherein some flowry faire enamild ground
I’le place my Tombe, mine Epitaph shall sound,
Of traine-shut sluces, of the Thespian spring,
Where chatring birds, Dodonean trees do sing:
And mild Hydaspes streames do gently flow,
There shall my Lesbian layes, sad Liricks shew.
And where the Borean Roses strow the Hall,
Where flot-glass’d Nymphs, the Circe-fled Greeks enstal;
There shall shrill Triton sound, Armilla’s staind,
Whom foule affection preyd, and Lucre gaind;