30
To iudge it; but replyes for smell
That it excels them both.

Wherewith displeasde they hang their heads
So angry soone they grow
And from their odoriferous beds
Their sweets at it they throw.

The winter here a Summer is,
No waste is made by time,
Nor doth the Autumne euer misse
The blossomes of the Prime. 40

The flower that Iuly forth doth bring
In Aprill here is seene,
The Primrose that puts on the Spring
In Iuly decks each Greene.

The sweets for soueraignty contend
And so abundant be,
That to the very Earth they lend
And Barke of euery Tree:

Rills rising out of euery Banck,
In wild Meanders strayne, 50
And playing many a wanton pranck
Vpon the speckled plaine,

In Gambols and lascivious Gyres
Their time they still bestow
Nor to their Fountaines none retyres,
Nor on their course will goe.

Those Brooks with Lillies brauely deckt,
So proud and wanton made,
That they their courses quite neglect:
And seeme as though they stayde, 60

Faire _Flora_ in her state to viewe
Which through those Lillies looks,
Or as those Lillies leand to shew
Their beauties to the brooks.

That _Phoebus_in his lofty race,
Oft layes aside his beames
And comes to coole his glowing face
In these delicious streames;

Oft spreading Vines clime vp the Cleeues,
Whose ripned clusters there, 70
Their liquid purple drop, which driues
A Vintage through the yeere.

Those Cleeues whose craggy sides are clad
With Trees of sundry sutes,
Which make continuall summer glad,
Euen bending with their fruits,

Some ripening, ready some to fall,
Some blossom'd, some to bloome,
Like gorgeous hangings on the wall
Of some rich princely Roome: 80

_Pomegranates_, _Lymons_, _Cytrons_, so
Their laded branches bow,
Their leaues in number that outgoe
Nor roomth will them alow.

There in perpetuall Summers shade,
_Apolloes_ Prophets sit,
Among the flowres that neuer fade,
But flowrish like their wit;

To whom the Nimphes vpon their Lyres,
Tune many a