| SCARCE had the sun dried up the dewy morn, | |
| And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, | |
| When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, | |
| A longing tarriance for Adonis made | |
| Under an osier growing by a brook, | 5 |
| A brook where Adon us’d to cool his spleen: | |
| Hot was the day; she hotter that did look | |
| For his approach, that often there had been. | |
| Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by, | |
| And stood stark naked on the brook’s green brim: | 10 |
| The sun look’d on the world with glorious eye, | |
| Yet not so wistly as this queen on him: | |
| He, spying her, bounc’d in, whereas he stood: | |
| ‘O Jove,’ quoth she, ‘why was not I a flood!’ |