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And hope, whereto in thought I mought aspire,
Is, that thou art not onely swifter, then
The Hart pursude of hounds into his den,
But swifter then the swiftest blowing winde,
Swifter then time, then thought within the minde.

Suer I am, if well thou hadst me knowne,
(Stela my life) from me thou wouldst not flie,
Or sometimes yet from me if thou wert gone,
Thou wouldst returne without my call or crie:
And if thou didst stay there but somewhat long,
Then wouldst thou thinke thou didst thy selfe great wrong:
I knowe that this will greeue thee at the hart,
To see me passe for thee such paines and smart.

A Caue, that doth containe the better part
Of this great hill, hewen out of quarrie stone,
Serues for my rocke, the which is of such art,
That there the Sommer sunne is neuer knowne,
Nor winters cold is felt within that place,
But apples there doe hang in maruellous grace
Hard by the ground, that shade in hottest weather,
And loade the boughes, they hang so thicke together.

Clusters of grapes doe beautifie my vines,
Some golden, purple red, all faire and full,
Of part whereof I make most daintie wines;
And part of them I keepe for thee to pull:
And with thy hands most delicate and faire
Gather thou maist ripe plums by goodly paires,
Vnder the shadowes of their boughes, to ease thee,
And Apricocks, and cheries if it please thee.

Heere haue I damsens, nuts, and coloured peares,
And peaches fine, that would each eie inuite:
And euery tree, and fruit this Iland beares,
All for thy seruice, pleasure, and delight:
And as my hart to please thee I haue bowed,
And so haue these the selfe same office vowed:
In Autumne (if thy husband I might bee)
Chestnuts, and Medlars I will keepe for thee.

As many flockes as heere thou dost behold,
Which in these banks I feede with mournefull song,
And many more within these hils vntold
And woods and vales estray, to me belong:
Many that lie in shades along this coast,
All which to tell were but a labour lost.

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