O Flocks, O Faunes, and O ye pleasaunt Springs 145 Of Tempe, where the countrey nymphs are rife, Through whose not costly care each shepheard sings As merrie notes upon his rusticke fife As that Ascraean bard*, whose fame now rings Through the wide world, and leads as ioyfull life; 150 Free from all troubles and from worldly toyle, In which fond men doe all their dayes turmoyle. [* I.e. Hesiod] In such delights whilst thus his carelesse time This shepheard drives, upleaning on his batt*, And on shrill reedes chaunting his rustick rime, 155 Hyperion, throwing foorth his beames full hott, Into the highest top of heaven gan clime, And the world parting by an equall lott, Did shed his whirling flames on either side, As the great Ocean doth himselfe divide. 160 [* _Batt_, stick] Then gan the shepheard gather into one His stragling goates, and drave them to a foord, Whose caerule streame, rombling in pible stone, Crept under mosse as greene as any goord. Now had the sun halfe heaven overgone, 165 When he his heard back from that water foord Drave, from the force of Phoebus boyling ray, Into thick shadowes, there themselves to lay. Soone as he them plac’d in thy sacred wood, O Delian goddesse, saw, to which of yore 170 Came the bad daughter of old Cadmus brood, Cruell Agavè, flying vengeance sore Of King Nictileus for the guiltie blood Which she with cursed hands had shed before; There she halfe frantick, having slaine her sonne, 175 Did shrowd her selfe like punishment to shonne. Here also playing on the grassy greene, Woodgods, and Satyres, and swift Dryades, With many Fairies oft were dauncing seene. Not so much did Dan Orpheus represse 180 The streames of Hebrus with his songs, I weene, As that faire troupe of woodie goddesses Staied thee, O Peneus, powring foorth to thee, From cheereful lookes, great mirth and gladsome glee. The verie nature of the place, resounding 185 With gentle murmure of the breathing ayre, A pleasant bowre with all delight abounding In the fresh shadowe did for them prepayre, To rest their limbs with wearines redounding. For first the high palme-trees, with braunches faire, Out of the lowly vallies did arise, 191 And high shoote up their heads into the skyes. And them amongst the wicked lotos grew, Wicked, for holding guilefully away Ulysses men, whom rapt with sweetenes new, 195 Taking to hoste*, it quite from him did stay; And eke those trees, in whose transformed hew The Sunnes sad daughters waylde the rash decay Of Phaëton, whose limbs with lightening rent They gathering up, with sweete teares did lament. 200 [* _Hoste_, entertain.]