TO THE QUEENE.

GOddesse of Youth, and Lady of the Spring,
(Most fit to be the Consort to a King)
Be pleas'd to rest you in This Sacred Grove,
Beset with Mirtles; whose each leafe drops Love.
Many a sweet-fac't Wood-Nymph here is seene,
Of which chast Order You are now the Queene:
Witnesse their Homage, when they come and strew
Your Walks with Flowers, and give their Crowns to you.
Your Leavie-Throne (with Lilly-work) possesse;
And be both Princesse here, and Poetresse.