Two pretty rills do meet, and meeting make Within one valley a large silver lake: About whose banks the fertile mountains stood In ages pass'd bravely crowned with wood,...
Seest thou not, in clearest days, Oft thick fogs cloud Heaven's rays? And that vapours which do breathe From the Earth's gross womb beneath, Seem unto us with black steams...
Methought his royal person did foretell A kingly stateliness, from all pride clear; His look majestic seem'd to compel All men to love him, rather than to fear. And yet though he were every good man's joy,...