That all the flowrie meddowes ring And Beta sits vpon the banke in purple and in pall, And she the Queene of Muses is, and weares the Coronall.
(25) Trim vp her golden tresses with Apollos sacred tree, O happy sight vnto all those that loue and honour thee, The blessed Angels haue prepar’d A glorious crowne for thy reward? Not such a golden crowne as haughty Cæsar + weares: (30) But such a glittering starrie crowne as Ariadne beares.
Make her a goodly Chaplet of azurd Cullumbine, And wreath about her Coronet with sweetest Eglantine. Bedeck our Beta all with Lillies. And the dainty Daffadillies, (35) With Roses Damaske, white and red, and fairest flowre-Delice: +With Cowslips of Ierusalem, and Cloaues of Paradice. +
O thou faire Torch of heauen, the dayes most dearest light, And thou bright-shining Cinthia, the glory of the night. You starres the eyes of heauen, (40) And thou the glyding leuen, And thou ô gorgeous Iris, with all strange colours dyed: When she streames foorth her rayes, then dasht is all your pride.
See how the Day stands still, admiring of her face, And Time loe stretcheth foorth his armes thy Beta to embrace. (45) The Sirens sing sweete Layes, The Trytons sound her prayse, Goe passe on Thames, and hie thee fast vnto the Ocean Sea: And let thy billowes there proclaime thy Betas holy-day.
And water thou the blessed roote of that greene Oliue tree, (50) With whose sweete shadow all thy bancks with peace preserued be. Laurell for Poets and Conquerours: And Mirtle for Loues Paramours. That fame may be thy fruite, the boughs preseru’d by peace, And let the mournfull Cypres die, now stormes and tempests cease.