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riuer bankes, vntill we came to a wide fielde, where we sawe a great companie of Nymphes, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses, euery one attending when famous Tu∣ria would begin to sing. Not long after we sawe old Turia come out of a deepe caue, with a great pot (very curiously wrought) vnder his arme, his head crowned with a garland of Oke and Laurell, his armes all hairie, his white beard long and slimie: And sitting downe on the grounde, leaning vpon his pot, and powring out of it abundance of christalline waters, he cleered vp his hoarse and hollow voice, and sung as followeth.
The Song of Turia.
WAter (faire Springs, and purest running streames)
This fortunate and most abundant soile,
Comfort the meades and trees, and pleasant aire,
Defend the flowers from Titans burning spoile,
So with the fauour of the highest beames
I will maintaine my bankes so fresh and faire,
That these shall haue great enuie of my crowne,
The Father of flouds, Rosne, Myncius, and Garoune.
Whiles that you goe thus hastening of your course,
Winding your streames by many a crooked way,
And ioy Valencia fieldes that sweetely smell
With sauourie liquours in the hottest day:
My weake and feeble breath I will enforce
With my diuining spirit to foretell,
And sing of those good haps, that shall befall
By fauour of the heauens vnto you all.
Shepherds, and Nymphes, within these louely dales
Whose names resound vnto th’Arcadian fieldes,
Giue eare to me: But of the painted flowers,
Nor pleasure, that the springs and medowes yeeldes,
Nor woods, nor shades, nor warbling nightingales,
I will not sing, nor of the countrie powers:
But of those famous men and worthy peeres,
That shall be heere not after many yeeres.
And now I see two Shepherds first in place,
Calixtus, and Alexander, whose fames
Surmounting the great Cesars chiefe renowne,
From Atlas vnto Maurus sounds their names:
Whose liues the heauens adorning with their grace,
Shall make them both to weare a reuerend crowne:
And saue from losse with their industrious heede,
As many flockes as in the world doe feede.
Of whose illustrous stocke I see arise
That man, whose hart base feare cannot rebuke,
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