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As (woo'd by Mayes delights) I haue beene borne
To take the kinde ayre of a wistfull morne
Neere Tauies voicefull streame (to whom I owe
More straines then from my Pipe can euer flowe):
Here haue I heard a sweet Bird neuer lin
To chide the Riuer for his clam'rous din;
There seem'd another in his song to tell,
That what the faire streame did he liked well;
And going further heard another too,
All varying still in what the others doe;
A little thence, a fourth with little paine
Con'd all their lessons, and them sung againe;
So numberlesse the Songsters are that sing
In the sweet Groues of the too-carelesse Spring,
That I no sooner could the hearing lose
Of one of them, but straight another rose,
And perching deftly on a quaking spray,
Nye tyr'd her selfe to make her hearer stay,
Whilst in a bush two Nightingales together
Shew'd the best skill they had to draw me thither:
So (as bright Thetis past our cleeues along)
This shepherds lay pursu'd the others song,
And scarce one ended had his skilfull stripe,

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But streight another tooke him to his Pipe.