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To Diana.

iana, (that the Golden Spyndle, moues;
And loftie soundes, as wel as Bacchus loues
A bashfull Virgine, and of fearefull hearts
The Death-affecter, with delighted Darts;
By Sire, and Mother, Phœbus Sister borne;
Whose Thigh, the Golden Falchion doth adorne)
I sing; who, likewise, ouer Hills of shade,
And Promontories, that vast windes muade;
(Amorous of Hunting) bends her all-gold Bowe;
And sigh-begetting Arrows doth bestowe,
In fates so dreadfull; that the Hill-Tops quake;
And Bristlde woods, their leauie foreheads shake;
Horrors inuade Earth; and fishie Seas
Impassiond furies; nothing can appeare
The dying Braies of Beasts; and her Delight
In so much Death, affects so with affright,
Euen all inanimate natures. For while shee
Her sports applies; Their generall Progenie

She