A Paradice on earth is found,
Though farre from vulgar sight,
Which with those pleasures doth abound
That it _Elizium_ hight.
Where, in Delights that neuer fade,
The Muses lulled be,
And sit at pleasure in the shade
Of many a stately tree,
Which no rough Tempest makes to reele
Nor their straight bodies bowes, 10
Their lofty tops doe neuer feele
The weight of winters snowes;
In Groues that euermore are greene,
No falling leafe is there,
But _Philomel_ (of birds the Queene)
In Musicke spends the yeare.
The _Merle_ vpon her mertle Perch,
There to the _Mavis_ sings,
Who from the top of some curld Berch
Those notes redoubled rings; 20
There Daysyes damaske euery place
Nor once their beauties lose,
That when proud _Phoebus_ hides his face
Themselues they scorne to close.
The Pansy and the Violet here,
As seeming to descend,
Both from one Root, a very payre,
For sweetnesse yet contend,
And pointing to a Pinke to tell
Which beares it, it is loath, 30
To iudge it; but replyes for smell
That it excels them both.
Wherewith displeasde they hang their heads
So angry soone they grow
And from their odoriferous beds
Their sweets at it they throw.
The winter here a Summer is,
No waste is made by time,
Nor doth the Autumne euer misse
The blossomes of the Prime. 40
The flower that Iuly forth doth bring
In Aprill here is seene,
The Primrose that puts on the Spring
In Iuly decks each Greene.
The sweets for soueraignty contend
And so abundant be,
That to the very Earth they lend
And Barke of euery Tree:
Rills rising out of euery Banck,
In wild Meanders strayne, 50
And playing many a wanton pranck
Vpon the speckled plaine,
In Gambols and lascivious Gyres
Their time they still bestow
Nor to their Fountaines none retyres,
Nor on their course will goe.
Those Brooks with Lillies brauely deckt,
So proud and wanton made,
That they their courses quite neglect:
And seeme as though they stayde, 60
Faire _Flora_ in her state to viewe
Which through those Lillies looks,
Or as those Lillies leand to shew
Their beauties to the brooks.
That _Phoebus_in his lofty race,
Oft layes aside his beames
And comes to coole his glowing face
In these delicious streames;
Oft spreading Vines clime vp the Cleeues,
Whose ripned clusters there, 70
Their liquid purple drop, which driues
A Vintage through the yeere.
Those Cleeues whose craggy sides are clad
With Trees of sundry sutes,
Which make continuall summer glad,
Euen bending with their fruits,
Some ripening, ready some to fall,
Some blossom'd, some to bloome,
Like gorgeous hangings on the wall
Of some rich princely Roome: 80
_Pomegranates_, _Lymons_, _Cytrons_, so
Their laded branches bow,
Their leaues in number that outgoe
Nor roomth will them alow.
There in perpetuall Summers shade,
_Apolloes_ Prophets sit,
Among the flowres that neuer fade,
But flowrish like their wit;
To whom the Nimphes vpon their Lyres,
Tune many a curious lay, 90
And with their most melodious Quires
Make short the longest day.
The _thrice three Virgins_ heavenly Cleere,
Their trembling Timbrels sound,
Whilst the three comely Graces there
Dance many a dainty Round,
Decay nor Age there nothing knowes,
There is continuall Youth,
As Time on plant or creatures growes,
So still their strength renewth. 100
The Poets Paradice this is,
To which but few can come;
The Muses onely bower of blisse
Their Deare _Elizium_.
Here happy soules, (their blessed bowers,
Free from the rude resort
Of beastly people) spend the houres,
In harmelesse mirth and sport,
Then on to the _Elizian_ plaines
_Apollo_ doth invite you 110
Where he prouides with pastorall straines,
In Nimphals to delight you.