xlviii 



And thus through paths that strewed with content, 



You bring the reader to the silver Trent, 



Upon whose fertil banks methinks I see 



Apollo's darlings making melodic : 



Led by your fancies thread from their own spring, 



And in delightful tones sit sonneting : 



Who when they mention you in their sweet lays, 



May th' angler eccho your deserved praise. 



JOHN SLATOR. 



