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Like Venus and Queen Eleanor
going marching into Troy.
They rubbed on each bank,
they did both ſkip and dance,
The fish low in the water
they nimbly do advance:
But while this maid ſtood angling
all with her line and hook,
The pretty trout and ſalmon
ſkips along the rocks and clifts.
The violet, pink and daiſie,
well garnish'd on each bank;
And Neptune Flora cloathing,
they all ſtood in a rank.
Attended by a damſel fair,
convey'd me to a ball;
When I thought myſelf in Paradiſe,
I was in grief withal.
Her hair like threads of amber,
moſt glorious to be ſeen!
I took her for Diana,
or for ſome Grecian Queen.
Her lovely breaſt ſtood naked,
which did my heart inflame,
When I thought to infold her in my arms,
I found it was a dream!
