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And all the way their merry pipes they sound, That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring, And with their horned feet° do weare the ground, Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring. So towards old Sylvanus they her bring; Who with the noyse awaked commeth out To weet the cause, his weake steps governing, And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout; And with an yvie twyne his wast is girt about.