Englands Helicon Casta placent superis, pura cum veste venite, et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam.

¶Cinthia the Nimph, her Song to faire Polydora.

NEere to the Riuer banks, with greene And pleasant trees on euery side, Where freest minds would most haue beene, That neuer felt braue Cupids pride, To passe the day and tedious howers: Amongst those painted meades and flowers.

A certaine Sheepheard full of woe, Syrenus call'd, his flocks did feede: Not sorrowfull in outward show, But troubled with such greefe indeede, As cruell Loue is wont t'impart Vnto a painefull louing hart.

This Sheepheard euery day did die, For loue he to Diana bare: A Sheepheardesse so fine perdie, So liuely, young, and passing faire, Excelling more in beauties feature: Then any other humane creature.

VVho had not any thing, of all She had, but was extreame in her, For meanely wise none might her call, Nor meanely faire, for he did erre If so he did: but should deuise Her name of passing faire and wise.

Fauours on him she did bestow, Which if she had not, then be sure He might haue suffered all that woe Which afterward he did endure When he was gone, with lesser paine: And at his comming home againe.

For when indeede the hart is free From suffering paine or torments smart: If wisedome dooth not ouer-see And beareth not the greatest part; The smallest greefe and care of minde: Dooth make it captiue to their kinde.

Neere to a Riuer swift and great, That famous Ezla had to name: The carefull Sheepheard did repeate The ••eares he had by absence blame, Which he suspect where he did keepe: And feede his gentle Lambs and Sheepe.

And now sometimes he did behold His Sheepheardesse, that there about Was on the mountaines of that old And auncient Leon, seeking out From place to place the pastures best: Her Lambs to feede, her selfe to rest.

And sometime musing, as he lay, When on those hills she was not seene: Was thinking of that happie day, When Cupid gaue him such a Queene Of beautie, and such cause of ioy: Wherein his minde he did imploy.

Yet sayd (poore man) when he did see Him selfe so sunke in sorrowes pit: The good that Loue hath giuen me, I onely doo imagine it, Because this neerest harme and trouble: Heereafter I should suffer double.

The Sunne for that it did decline, The carelesse man did not offend With fierie beames, which scarce did shine,

But that which did of loue depend, And in his hart did kindle fire: Of greater flames and hote desire.

Him did his passions all inuite, The greene leaues blowne with gentle winde: Christaline streames with their delight, And Nightingales were not behinde, To helpe him in his louing verse: Which to himselfe he did rehearse.

Bar. Yong.

FINIS.