There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence,

That with moist curb fways the fmooth Severn stream,

Sabrina is her name, a Virgin pure,

Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,

That had the Scepter from his Father Brute.
The guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
Of her enraged Stepdam Guendolen,

Commended her fair innocence to the flood
That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing courfe.
The water Nymphs that in the bottom plaid,
Held up their pearled wrifts and took her in,
Bearing her ftreight to aged Nereus Hall,

Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head,
And

gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectar'd lavers ftrew'd with Afphodil,

And through the porch and inlet of each sense
Dropt in Ambrofial Oyls till the reviv'd,
And underwent a quick immortal change,
Made Goddess of the River; ftill fhe retains
Her Maid'n gentleness, and oft at Ev❜n
Vifits the herds along the twilight meadows,
Helping all Urchin blafts, and ill-luck signs
That the fhrewd medling Elfe delights to make,

Which the with precious viol'd liquors heals.

For which the Shepherds at their Festivals
Carrol her goodness lowd in rustick lays,
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
Of Pancies, Pinks and gaudy Daffadils.

And, as the old Swain said, fshe can unlock
The clafping charm, and thaw the numming spell,
If the be right invok'd in warbled Song,

For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swift
To aid a Virgin, fuch as was her felf,
In hard-besetting need, this will I try,
And add the power of fome adjuring verse.

Sabrina fair,

SONG.

Liften where thou art fitting

Under the glaffie, cool, tranflucent Wave,
In twifted Braids of Lillies knitting
The loofe train of thy Amber-dropping Hair
Liften for dear Honour's fake,

Goddess of the Silver Lake,

Liften and fave.

Liften and appear to us,

In name of great Oceanus,

By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys grave majestick pace,
By hoary Nereus wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wifard's hook,
By fcaly Triton's winding fhell,
And old footh-faying Glaucus spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her Son that rules the strands,
By Thetis tinfel-flipper'd feet,
And the Songs of Sirens sweet,
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
Wherewith fhe fits on Diamond rocks,
Sleeking her foft alluring locks,

By all the Nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rofie head

From thy coral-pavʼn bed,

And bridle in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our fummons answer'd have.

Sabrina rifes, attended by Water-Nymphs, and Sings.

By the rushy-fringed bank,

Where

grows

the Willow and the Ofier dank,

My fliding Chariot ftays,

Thick fet with Agat, and the azure sheen

Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green
That in the channel ftrays,

Whilft from off the water's fleet
Thus I fet my printless feet
O'er the Cowflips Velvet head,
That bends not as I tread,

Gentle fwain at thy request
1 am bere.

Spir. Goddefs dear

We implore thy powerful handi

To undo the charmed band

Of true Virgin here distrest,

Through the force, and through the wile
Of unbleft inchanter vile,

Sab

Sab. Shepherd, 'tis my Office best To help infrared chastity;

Brightest Lady look on me,

Thus I fprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure,
I have kept of precious cure,
Thrice upon thy fingers tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip,
Next this marble venom'd feat

Smear'd with gumms of glutenous heat

I touch with chafte palms moist and cold,
Now the spell hath loft his hold;

And I must haste e'er morning hour
To wait in Amphitrite's bow'r.

Sabrina defcends, and the Lady rifes out of her
Seat.

Spir. Virgin daughter of Locrine,

Sprung of old Anchifes line,

May thy brimmed waves for this

Their full tribute never miss

From a thousand petty rills,

That tumble down thy fnowy hills:

Summer