Silvanus came, with rural honours crowned;

The flowering fennels and tall lilies shook

Before him. Yea, and our own eyes beheld

Pan, god of Arcady, with blood-red juice

Of the elder-berry, and with vermilion, dyed.

"Wilt ever make an end?" quoth he, "behold

Love recks not aught of it: his heart no more

With tears is sated than with streams the grass,