Vii

Eternal providence exceeding thought, Where none appeares can make herselfe a way: A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought, From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray. Her shrill outcryes and shriekes so loud did bray, That all the woodes and forestes did resownd; A troupe of Faunes and Satyres° far away Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd, Whiles old Sylvanus° slept in shady arber sownd: