Unto the fountain where fair Delia chaste
The proud Acteon turnèd to a hart,
I drove my flock, that water sweet to taste,
'Cause from the welkin Phoebus 'gan depart.
There did I see the nymph whom I admire,
Rememb'ring her locks, of which the yellow hue
Made blush the beauties of her curlèd wire,
Which Jove himself with wonder well might view;
Then red with ire, her tresses she berent,
And weeping hid the beauty of her face,
Whilst I amazèd at her discontent,
With tears and sighs do humbly sue for grace;
But she regarding neither tears nor moan,
Flies from the fountain leaving me alone.
X
Am I a Gorgon that she doth me fly,
Or was I hatchèd in the river Nile?
Or doth my Chloris stand in doubt that I
With syren songs do seek her to beguile?
If any one of these she can object
'Gainst me, which chaste affected love protest,
Then might my fortunes by her frowns be checked,
And blameless she from scandal free might rest.
But seeing I am no hideous monster born,
But have that shape which other men do bear,
Which form great Jupiter did never scorn,
Amongst his subjects here on earth to wear,
Why should she then that soul with sorrow fill,
Which vowèd hath to love and serve her still?