Lightly she whipped o'er the dales,
Making the woods proud with her presence;
Gently she trod the flowers;
And as they gently kissed her tender feet
The birds in their best language bade her welcome,
Being proud that Oriana heard their song.
The clove-foot satyrs singing
Made music to the fauns a-dancing,
And both together with an emphasis
Sang Oriana's praises;
Whilst the adjoining woods with melody
Did entertain their sweet harmony.
Then sang the shepherds and nymphs of Diana:
Long live fair Oriana.
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