And euery little Grasse
Broad it selfe spreadeth,
Proud that this bonny Lasse
Vpon it treadeth: 240
Nor flower is so sweete
In this large Cincture
But it upon her feete
Leaueth some Tincture.
Cho. _On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swanes sing her,
And with thy Musick,
Along let them bring her._

The Fishes in the Flood, 250
When she doth Angle,
For the Hooke striue a good
Them to intangle;
And leaping on the Land
From the cleare water,
Their Scales vpon the sand,
Lauishly scatter;
Therewith to paue the mould
Whereon she passes,
So her selfe to behold, 260
As in her glasses.
Cho. _On thy Bancke,
In a Ranke,
Let thy Swanns sing her,
And with their Musicke,
Along let them bring her._

When shee lookes out by night,
The Starres stand gazing,
Like Commets to our sight
Fearefully blazing, 270
As wondring at her eyes
With their much brightnesse,
Which to amaze the skies,
Dimming their lightnesse,
The raging Tempests are Calme,
When shee speaketh,
Such most delightsome balme
From her lips breaketh.
Cho. _On thy Banke,
In a Rancke_, &c. 280

In all our _Brittany_,
Ther's not a fayrer,
Nor can you fitt any:
Should you compare her.
Angels her eye-lids keepe
All harts surprizing,
Which looke whilst she doth sleepe
Like the Sunnes rising:
She alone of her kinde
Knoweth true measure 290
And her vnmatched mind
Is Heauens treasure:
Cho. _On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke
Let thy Swanes sing her,
And with their Musick,
Along let them bring her._

Fayre _Doue_ and _Darwine_ cleere
Boast yee your beauties,
To _Tr