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Helpe each immortall power,
For ioyntly all your helpes I do desire,
And humbly do your fauours all inuoke:
None I except out of the heauenly quire:
O saue my virgine flowre:
Be readie, else with force it will be broke.
O let the earth deuoure,
And swallow me within her hidden vaines
With furious paines.
Or else destroy my shape with thunder clap,
Since this mishap
It wrought. Helpe Pene now my father deere,
If deitie be in thy riuers cleere.

Scarce had faire Daphne ended her request,
When by and by a trembling feare possest
Her bodie with each member of the same.
Hard barke did winde about her snow-white brest:
Her golden haire was turned to greene leaues,
Her armes into two long and branchie boughes:
Her nimble foote, which was of late so light,
Fastned remaind in rootes that could not stirre,
And such like shape remaind in euerie part.
Apollo deerely lou’d this Nymph in life,
And now he loues her turn’d into a tree:
Where thrusting his right hand into the barke
Felt, that transformed Daphnes hart did yet
Tremble, and quake vnder the same so new.
He doth imbrace those fine and tender boughes,
As though he would embrace her body yet,
The wood he kisseth, but the wood disdaines
His kisses, and doth seeme to bend away.
So in this sort Apollo stood a while
Speechlesse, and thinking of no other thing:
After like one, that is amazed in minde,
Not knowing whether he doth dreame or no,
Vpon the Gods, and heauen he doth exclaime
With angrie wordes of pitie and despite;
Bicause they vs’d such rigour to his loue.
For faine he vvould had Daphne to his vvife.
But vvhen he savv it could not come to passe,
He chose her for his tree, and gaue to it
Great honours, as the like had neuer yet:
And in this great astonishment he said.

What thing is this, vvhich I do see,
Is it a dreame, or none? O that it vvere
A fansie, or some vaine deceite,