400 Like as a wily foxe, that, having spide Where on a sunnie banke the lambes doo play, Full closely creeping by the hinder side, Lyes in ambushment of his hoped pray, Ne stirreth limbe, till, seeing readie tide*, 405 He rusheth forth, and snatcheth quite away One of the litle yonglings unawares; So to his worke Aragnoll him prepares.

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.

But I, poore wretch, am forced to retourne To the sad lakes that Phoebus sunnie rayes Doo never see, where soules doo alwaies mourne; 620 And by the wayling shores to waste my dayes, Where Phlegeton with quenchles flames doth burne; By which iust Minos righteous soules doth sever From wicked ones, to live in blisse for ever.