Ne thence the Irishe Rivers absent were,
Sith no lesse famous than the rest they bee,
And joyne in neighbourhood of Kingdome nere,
Why should they not likewise in love agree,
And joy likewise the solemne day to see?
They saw it all, and present were in place;
Though I them all according their degree
Cannot recount nor tell their hidden race,

Nor read the salvage cuntreis thorough which they pace.

There was the Liffy rolling downe the lea, The sandy Slane, the stony Aubrian, The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea, The pleasant Boyne, the fishy fruitfull Ban, Swift Awniduff, which of the English man Is cal'de Blacke-water, and the Liffar deep, Sad Trowis, that once his people over-ran, Strong Allo tombling from Slewlogher steep, And Mulla mine, whose waves I whilom taught to weep.

And there the three renowmed brethren were, Which that great Gyant Blomius begot Of the faire Nimph Rheusa wandring there. One day, as she to shunne the season whot Under Slewboome in shady grove was got, This Gyant found her and by force deflowr'd; Whereof conceiving, she in time forth brought These three faire sons, which being thenceforth powrd In three great rivers ran, and many countreis scowrd.

The first the gentle Shure that, making way
By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Waterford;
The next, the stubborne Newre whose waters gray,
By faire Kilkenny and Rossepontè boord;
The third, the goodly Barow which doth hoord
Great heapes of salmons in his deepe bosome:
All which, long sundred, doe at last accord
To joyne in one, ere to the sea they come;
So, flowing all from one, all one at last become.

There also was the wide embayed Mayre;
The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many a wood;
The spreading Lee that, like an Island fayre,
Encloseth Corke with his devided flood;

And balefull Oure, late staind with English blood,
With many more whose names no tongue can tell;
All which that day in order seemly good,

Did on the Thamis attend, and waited well

To doe their dueful service, as to them befell.

SPENSER.

[From Ovid's Banquet of Sense.] FORWARD and back and forward went he thus,

Like wanton Thamysis that hastes to greet

The brackish court of old Oceanus ;

And as by London's bosom she doth fleet,

Casts herself proudly through the bridge's twists,

Where, as she takes again her crystal feet,
She curls her silver hair like amourists,

Smoothes her bright cheeks, adorns her brow with ships,
And, empress-like, along the coast she trips.

Till coming near the sea, she hears him roar,
Tumbling her churlish billows in her face,
Then, more dismay'd than insolent before,
Charged to rough battle for his smooth embrace,
She croucheth close within her winding banks,
And creeps retreat into her peaceful palace;
Yet straight high-flowing in her female pranks
Again she will be wanton, and again,
By no means staid, nor able to contain.

GEORGE CHAPMAN.

[From Idea, 53.]

'LEAR ANKER, on whose silver-sanded shore

CLEA

My soul-shrined saint, my fair Idea, lies;

O blessed Brook, whose milk-white swans adore
Thy crystal stream, refined by her eyes,
Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the Spring
Gently distils his nectar-drooping showers,

Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing

Amongst the dainty dew-impearlèd flowers;

Say thus, fair Brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,–
"Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wand'ring years,
And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft hath been,
And here to thee he sacrificed his tears."

Fair Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,
And thou, sweet Anker, art my Helicon.
MICHAEL DRAYTON.

M

[From King John, Act iii., Scene i.] WHY holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,

Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

[From King Richard II., Act iii., Scene ii.]

N unseasonable stormy day,

AN

Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,

As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears.

SHAKESPEARE.

[From King Henry IV., Part I., Act iii., Scene i.]

HOTSPUR. Methinks my moiety, north from Burton

here,

In quantity equals not one of yours:

See how this river comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my land
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up,
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

Glendower. Not wind! it shall, it must; you see it doth.

Mortimer. Yea, but

Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up

With like advantage on the other side;
Gelding the opposéd continent as much

As on the other side it takes from you.

Worcester. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here,

And on this north side win this cape of land;

And then he runs straight and even.

SHAKESPEARE.

[From The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act ii., Scene vii.]

THE current, that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;

But, when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,

With willing sport to the wild ocean.

SHAKESPEARE.

[From Othello, Act iv., Scene iii.]

THE fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans.

SHAKESPEARE.