Viii

No sooner had fair Phoebus trimmed his car, Being newly risen from Aurora's bed, But I in whom despair and hope did war, My unpenned flock unto the mountains led. Tripping upon the snow-soft downs I spied Three nymphs more fairer than those beautys three Which did appear to Paris on mount Ide. Coming more near, my goddess I there see; For she the field-nymphs oftentimes doth haunt, To hunt with them the fierce and savage boar; And having sported virelays they chaunt, Whilst I unhappy helpless cares deplore. There did I call to her, ah too unkind! But tiger-like, of me she had no mind.