COURTEOUS CALLIOPE, vouchsafe to lend
Thy helping hand to my untunèd Song!
And grace these Lines, which I to write pretend,
Compelled by love which doth poor CORIN wrong.
And those, thy sacred Sisters, I beseech,
Which on Parnassus' Mount do ever dwell,
To shield my country Muse and rural speech
By their divine authority and spell.
Lastly to thee, O PAN, the shepherds' King;
And you swift footed Dryades, I call!
Attend to hear a swain in verse to sing
Sonnets of her that keeps his heart in thrall!
O CHLORIS, weigh the task I undertake!
Thy beauty, subject of my Song I make.