Where Eurymmanthus, crown'd with many a wood,
His silver stream through dasy'd vales does lead,
Stretch'd on the flowery marge, in reckless mood,
Proud Lycon sought by charm of jocund reed
To lull the dire remose of tortious deed.
Him Jove accosts, in reverend semblaunce dight
Of good Euphormius, and 'gan mild areed
Of compact oft confirm'd, of say yplight,
Of nature's tender tye, of sacred rule of right.