 | Small poems of Divers sorts |  |
First Song.
You Satyres that in WoodsHave frozen up your bloods,
Advance your selves, and show
What great Pan's men can do;
Appear.
Here you had need beware,
And move as swift as Air:
These are not Sylvane Swaines,
But Courtly Lords and Dames
Sit here.
| Small poems of Divers sorts | |