My mistresse when she goes

My mistresse when she goes,
To pull the pink and rose,
Along the riuer bounds
And trippeth on the grounds
And runnes from rocks to rocks
With louely scattered locks
Whilst amarous wind doth play
With haires so golden gay
The water waxeth cleere
The fishes draw hir neere
The Sirens sing hir praise
Sweet flowers perfume hir waies
And Neptune glad and faine
Yeelds vp to hir his raigne.