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Not farre beneath i'the Valley as she trends
Her siluer streame, some Wood-nymphs and her friends
That follow'd to her aide, beholding how
A Brooke came gliding, where they saw but now
Some Herds were feeding, wondring whence it came:
Vntill a Nymph that did attend the game
In that sweet Valley, all the processe told,
Which from a thicke-leau'd-tree she did behold:
See, quoth the Nymph, where the rude Satyre lies
Cast on the grasse; as if she did despise
To haue her pure waues soyl'd with such as he:
Retaining still the loue of puritie.