Classic Poem

Upon a fall which Mistress F: C: had from her horse hunting in my park

Prologue

Call in your balletts all yea that reherse
With confidence soe many lies in verse
Of Daphne's Fate, or how Acteon fell
Of Prognes, and her sister Phylomell
'Tis not a Fable that I goe to show
Truth setts it forth cum privilegio.

In Cynthias Revells as I bare a part
Last night a Nimph of Hers did wound my hart
Till, in pursute least I should over-take her
She beggd the Godds that They a Tree would make her
Which They as soon did graunt; for instantly
She's Metamorphisd by Philosophy
Which proves revertion in our shapes to be
The truest Emblem of a growing Tree
The roote's our Heads wheron the haire doth growe
The trunke's, our Bodies, and each Legg's a bowe
Amazd at this strange site I stood, in doubt.
Whither some fatall Doome would find me out
For the presumption, but thear followd none
'Save a sence rapture, th'admiration
Of Her faire skin begott, which had it been
Enlawnd within some Cristall Spring, then seen
I dare avowe't had servd for to have sworn
Ruine to all the Brothers of the horne
The fleesy down of Ledas Silver Swan
Snow whilst 'tis falling, or what ever can
Be thought more spottles; Lillies undefil'd
By touch of hand, a brighter Bason fild
With Moteles Milk, white sleaved Silk, thes all
But Coppies are to her Originall.

Epilogue

Should I say all could heer be sayd I might
Not only sing all day, but sing all night
With' Daughter of Pandion and complain
The dainger She was like for to sustain.


Lett this suffice; the place wher she did stand
Thus Tree-like, let't be calld the Terean Land.