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This truth to tell, ee yonder lawnkepe rie, An ample field of Britih clime I ween, A field which never by poetick Eyes Was viewd from hence. Thus, though the rural cene Has by a thouand artits pencild beene, Some other may, from other point, explore A view full different, yet as faire beeene: So hall thee lawns preent one lawnkepe more; For certes where we tand tood never wight before.

In yonder dale does wonne a gentle Knight—— Fleet as he pake till roe the imagerie Of all he told depeinten to the ight; It was, I weet, a goodly baronie: Beneath a greene-clad hill, right faire to ee, The catle in the unny vale ytood; All round the eat grew many a heltering tree, And on the wet a dimpling ilver flood Ran through the gardins trim, then crept into the wood.