udio.

Or in _December_, when the fields looke white,
And th'Hills, with the earlyest snow doth light;
Sometime th'entangled game, with twining nett
I'th' wood, with feare thou shalt besett:
Sometimes with courser fleet, pursue full sore,
The Buck thou mayst, sometimes the Bore;
With thy thrown dart the red Deer thou shalt stick.
And th'frighted ravenous Wolves shalt strick,
And if that Starre o'th' sacred dignity
The glory of all _Italy_,
Will also from his cares, himselfe make free,
And keepe his Festivals with thee;
Each Citizen of thine, and every guest
With the compleatest joy is blest.

_Ad fontem Sonam._

In patrio fundo, dum Roma rediisset.

Ode 2. Lib. Epod.

Fons innocenti lucidus magis vitro
Puraque purior nive,
Pagi voluptas, una Nympharum sitis,
Ocelle natalis soli.
Longis viarum languidus laboribus
Et mole curarum gravis
Thuscis ab usque gentibus redux, tibi
Accline prosterno latus:
Permitte siccus, qua potes, premi; cava
Permitte libari manu.
Sic te quietum nulla perturbet pecus,
Ramusve lapsus arbore:
Sic dum loquaci prata garritu secas,
Et laetus audiri salis;
Assibilantes populetorum comae
Ingrata ponant murmura
Tibi, lyraeq; Vatis: haud frustra sacer
Nam si quid _Urbanus_ probat,
Olim fluenti leue Blandusiae nihil
Aut Sirmioni debeas.

To the Fountaine Sona,

_When hee returned._

_Ode 2. Lib. Epod._

O Fount more cleare then spotlesse glasse,
More pure, then purest snow e're was,
The Nymphs desire, and Countries grace,
Thou joy of this my Native place.
Tyr'd with a tedious journey, I,
And press'd with cares that grievous lye,
From the farre _Tuscan_ Land made free
Thus low I bow my selfe to thee:
Oh, if thou canst, vouchsafe to bee
Press'd, and with hollow palme drawne dry.
So let thy peace no wandring beast
Disturb, no broken bough, thy rest:
So when thou cutt'st with prattling noise
The Meads, and leap'st, men heare thy voice;
May th'whistling leaves of Poplar trees
With their unwelcome murmurs cease--
To thee, and thy Priests Lute: if nought
_Urban_ approves, in vaine is thought
T'_Blandusia_ thou canst nothing owe;
Nor to milde flowing _Sirm