Which stuck there like a curious seal,
As though it should forbid
Us, wretched mortals, to reveal
What under it was hid.

The clear drops, in the steps that stood
Of that delicious girl,

Besides, the flowers which it had press'd, The bank with daffodillies dight
Appeared to my view
With grass like sleeve was matted:

More fresh and lovely than the rest,
That in the meadows grew.

The nymphs, amongst their dainty food,
Drunk for dissolved pearl.

The yielding sand, where she had trod,
Untouch'd yet with the wind,
By the fair posture plainly shew'd
Where I might Cynthia find.

When on upon my wayless walk
As my desires me draw,
I like a madman fell to talk
With everything I saw.

I ask'd some lilies, "Why so white
They from their fellows were?"
Who answer'd me, "That Cynthia's sight
Had made them look so clear."

I ask'd a nodding violet, "Why
It sadly hung the head?"
It told me, "Cynthia late past by,"
Too soon from it that fled.

A bed of roses saw I there,

Bewitching with their grace,
Besides so wond'rous sweet they were,
That they perfum'd the place.

I of a shrub of those inquir'd,
From others of that kind,
Who with such virtue them inspir'd?
It answer'd (to my mind):

"As the base hemlock were we such,

The poisoned'st weed that grows, Till Cynthia, by her godlike touch,

Transform'd us to the rose.

Renew us like the teeming springs,
And we thus fresh are seen."

"Since when those frosts that winter brings

Which candy every green,

At length I on a fountain light,
Whose brim with pinks was platted,

When I demanded of that well

What pow'r frequented there;
Desiring it would please to tell

What name it us'd to bear :

It told me, "It was Cynthia's own,
Within whose cheerful brims,
That curious nymph had oft been known
To bathe her snowy limbs;

"Since when that water had the pow'r
Lost maidenhoods to restore
And make one twenty in an hour,
Of Æson's age before,"

And told me, "That the bottom clear,
Now lay'd with many a fett

Of seed pearl, e'er she bath'd her there
Was known as black as jet:

"As when she from the water came

Where first she touch'd the mould, In balls the people made the same For pomander, and sold."

When chance me to an arbour led,
Whereas I might behold;
Two blest elysiums in one sted,
The less the great infold;

The place which she had chosen out,
Herself in to repose:

Had they come down the gods no doubt
The very same had chose.

The wealthy Spring yet never bore
That sweet, nor dainty flower,
That damask'd not the chequer'd floor

Of Cynthia's summer bower.

The birch, the myrtle, and the bay,
Like friends did all embrace;
And their large branches did display,
To canopy the place.