To CASTARA, Softly singing to her selfe.

SIng forth sweete Cherubin (for we have choice
Of reasons in thy beauty and thy voyce,
To name thee so, and scarce appeare prophane)
Sing forth, that while the orbs celestiall straine
To eccho thy sweete note, our humane eares
May then receive the Musicke of the Spheares.
But yet take heede, lest if the Swans of Thames,
That adde harmonious pleasure to the streames,
Oth' sudden heare thy well-divided breath,
Should listen, and in silence welcome death:
And ravisht Nightingales, striving too high
To …each thee, in the emulation dye.
And thus there will be left no bird to sing
Farewell to th' Waters, welcome to the Spring.