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Sabrina deſcends and the Ladie riſes out
of her ſeate.
Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine
Sprung of old Anchiſes line
May thy brimmed waves for this
Their full tribute never miſſe
From a thouſand pettie rills,
That tumble downe the ſnowie hills:
Summer drouth, or ſinged aire
Never ſcorch thy treſſes faire
Nor wet Octobers torrent flood
Thy molten cryſtall fill with mudde,
May thy billowes rowle a ſhoare
The beryll, and the golden ore,
May thy loftie head be crown'd
With many a tower, and terraſſe round,
And here and there thy banks upon
With groves of myrrhe, and cinnamon.
Come Ladie while heaven lends us grace,
Let us fly this curſed place,
Lest the ſorcerer us intice
With ſome other new device.
Not a waſt, or needleſſe ſound
Till we come to holyer ground,
I ſhall be your faithfull guide
Through this gloomie covert wide,
And not many furlongs thence
Is your Fathers reſidence,
Where this night are met in ſtate
Many a freind to gratulate
