These springs were maidens once that lov'd

These Springs were Maidens once that lov'd,

But lost to that, they most approv'd:

My Story tels, by Love they were

Turn'd to these Springs, which we see here:

The pretty whimpering that they make,

When of the Banks their leave they take;

Tels yee but this, they are the same,

In nothing chang'd but in their name.