XII.

I saw a spring out of a rocke forth rayle*, As cleare as christall gainst the sunnie beames; The bottome yeallow, like the golden grayle* That bright Pactolus washeth with his streames. It seem’d that Art and Nature had assembled All pleasure there for which mans hart could long; And there a noyse alluring sleepe soft trembled, Of manie accords, more sweete than mermaids song, The seates and benches shone as yvorie, And hundred nymphes sate side by side about; When from nigh hills, with hideous outcrie, A troupe of satyres in the place did rout,@ Which with their villeine feete the streame did ray,$ Threw down the seats, and drove the nymphs away. [* _Rayle_, flow.] [** _Grayle_, gravel.] [@ _Rout_, burst.] [$ _Ray_, defile.]