Her rambling

My mistress, when she goes

to pull the pink and rose

along the river bounds,

and trippeth on the grounds,

and runs from rocks to rocks

with lovely scattered locks,

whilst amorous wind doth play

with hairs so golden gay,

the water waxeth clear,

and fishes draw her near,

the sirens sing her praise,

sweet flowers perfume her ways,

and Neptune, glad and fain,

yields up to her his reign.