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There lyes a Vale extended to the North
Of Tauy's streame, which (prodigall) sends forth
In Autumne more rare fruits then haue beene spent
In any greater plot of fruitfull Kent.
Two high brow'd rocks on either side begin,
As with an arch to close the valley in:
Vpon their rugged fronts short writhen Oakes
Vntouch'd of any fellers banefull stroakes:
The Iuy twisting round their barkes hath fed
Past time wilde Goates which no man followed.
Low in the Valley some small Heards of Deere,
For head and footmanship withouten peere,
Fed vndisturb'd. The Swaines that thereby thriu'd
By the tradition from their Sires deriu'd,
Call'd it sweet Ina's Coombe: but whether she
Were of the earth or greater progeny

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Iudge by her deedes; once this is truely knowne
She many a time hath on a Bugle blowne,
And through the Dale pursu'd the iolly Chase,
As she had bid the winged windes a base.