O fertyle ground, in yeelding wise tliat lends 

 Such causes greate of Ladies perfite joyes, 

 O blissefull place so fit for faithfuU friends, 

 In pleasures ryse, to rid them from anoyes. 

 What wonder may it be, to those shall heare. 

 In Maple hard, or crooked Crabbe tree sowre : 

 Such sugred talke, such jests, such joyful! cheare, 

 Such mylde affects, as if 'twere Cupids bowre ? 

 Now sith these Noble Nimphes ybreathed have, 

 Upon these plants, in uttering forth their minde : 

 If any seeke their secrecie to crave, 

 High Jove I pray these trees may shew their kinde. 

 Help Satyrs eke, you Gods that keepe the wood. 

 The poysoning breath of Boreas rough resist : 

 And thou whose sylver drops bedewes eche bud. 

 Refresh these trees with sweete Auroraes mist. 

 And Jove if thou in Milfeelde shew thy might. 

 Convert them soone, to fruites of more delight. 



That Maple may be Mulberie, 



And Crabbe tree eke a Medler be. 



THOMAS HOWELL 



UPON THE PRIORY GROVE 



HIS USUAL RETIREMENT 



H 



AIL, sacred shades ! cool leafy house ! 

 Chaste treasurer of all my vows 

 And wealth ! on whose soft bosom laid 

 My love's fair steps I first betrayed : 

 Henceforth no melancholy flight. 

 No sad wing, or hoarse bird of Night, 

 Disturb this air, no fatal throat 

 76 



