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N'
��MICHAEL DRAYTON
128 Sirena
r EAR to the silver Trent
SIRENA dwelleth; She to whom Nature lent
All that excellcth; By which the Muses late
And the neat Graces Have for their greater state
Taken their places; Twisting an anadem
Wherewith to crown her, As it belonged to them Most to renown her. On thy bank y In a rank,
Let thy swans sing her y And wtth their music
Along let them bring her,
Tagus and Pactolus
Are to thee debtor, Nor for their gold to us
Are they the better Henceforth of all the rest
Be thou the River Which, as the daintiest,
Puts them down ever. For as my precious one
O'er thee doth travel, She to pearl paragon
Turneth thy gravel.
On thy bank . . .
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