Walking in bright Phoebus' blaze, Where with heat oppressed I was, I got to a shady wood, Where green leaves did newly bud; And of grass was plenty dwelling, Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling....
Near Wilton sweet, huge heaps of stones are found, But so confused, that neither any eye Can count them just, nor Reason reason try, What force brought them to so unlikely ground. ...
Who hath e'er felt the change of love, And known those pangs that losers prove, May paint my face without seeing me, And write the state how my fancies be,...