And on the other side, Hayle’s vaster mouth doth make A[60] chersonese thereof, the corner clipping in; Where to th’industrious Muse the Mount doth thus begin: ‘Before thou further pass, and leave this setting shore, ‘Whose towns unto the saints that lived here of yore ‘(Their fasting, works and pray’rs, remaining to our shames) ‘Were rear’d, and justly call’d by their peculiar names, ‘The builders honour still; this due and let them have, ‘As deign to drop a tear upon each holy grave; ‘Whose charity and zeal, instead of knowledge stood: ‘For surely in themselves they were right simply good. ‘If credulous too much, thereby th’ offended heaven, ‘In their devout intents yet be their sins forgiven.’ Then from his rugged top the tears down trickling fell; And in his passion stirr’d, again began to tell Strange things, that in his days time’s course had brought to pass: That forty miles now sea, sometimes firm fore-land was; And that a forest then, which now with him is flood, Whereof he first was call’d the Hoar-rock in the wood; Relating then how long this soil had laid forlorn, As that her Genius now had almost her forsworn, And of their ancient love did utterly repent, Sith to destroy herself that fatal tool she lent, To which th’ insatiate slave her intrails out doth draw, That thrusts his gripple hand into her golden maw; And for his part doth wish, that it were in his pow’r To let the ocean in, her wholly to devour. Which Hayle doth overhear, and much doth blame his rage; And told him (to his teeth) he doated with his age. For Hayle (a lusty nymph, bent all to amorous play, And having quick recourse into the Severn sea, With Neptune’s pages oft disporting in the deep; One never touch’d with care, but how herself to keep In excellent estate) doth thus again intreat; ‘Muse, leave the wayward Mount to his distemper’d heat, ‘Who nothing can produce but what doth taste of spight, ‘I’ll shew thee things of ours most worthy thy delight. ‘Behold our diamonds here, as in the quarrs they stand, ‘By nature neatly cut, as by a skilful hand, ‘Who varieth them in forms, both curiously and oft; ‘Which for she (wanting power) produceth them too soft, ‘That virtue which she could not liberally impart, ‘She striveth to amend by her own proper art. ‘Besides the sea-holm here, that spreadeth all our shore, ‘The sick-consuming man so powerful to restore, ‘Whose root th’ eringo is, the reins that doth inflame, ‘So strongly to perform the Cytheræan game, ‘That generally approv’d both far and near is sought; ‘And our Main-Amber here, and Burien trophy, thought ‘Much wrong’d, nor yet prefer’d for wonders with the rest.’ But the laborious muse, upon her journey prest, Thus uttereth to herself; ‘To guide my course aright, ‘What mound or steddy mere is offered to my sight, ‘Upon this out-strecht arm, whilst sailing here at ease,