Page:Cherry and the sloe.pdf/3

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I saw the Hurchin and the Hare, In hidlings hirpling here and there, To make their morns repast; The Cat and Coney too were set, Whose dainty downs in dew were wet, With whiskers feeding fast. The Hart, the Hind, the Dae, the Rae, The Fumart and false Fox; The bearded Buck climbs up the brae, With bristly bears and brocks: Some feeding, some dreading The hunter’s subtile snares. With skipping and tripping, They play’d them all in pairs.

The air was soft, serene and sweet, No misty vapours, wind nor weet; But quiet, calm and clear; To foster Flora’s fragrant flowers, Whereon Apollo’s paramours Had trinkled many a tear: The which like silver shakers shin’d Embroid’ring beauty’s bed, Whereon their heavy heads reclin’d. In Iris’ colours clad: Some mopping, some dropping Of balmy liquid sweet: Excelling and smelling, Thro’ Phœbus smiling heat.

Methought it was a heavenly thing, Where dew like diamonds did hing, O’er-twinkling all the trees, To study on the flowery twists. Admiring Nature’s Alchymists, Laborious busy Bees; Whereof some sweetest honey sought, To stay their lives from starve.