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OF A FOUNTAYNE, by                    
First Line: Chill is the fount whose gentle streame doth carrye
Last Line: Where the chill fountayne for thy thirst hath slakynge.
Subject(s): Love; Nature


CHILL is the fount whose gentle streame doth carrye
Tidynges of love as silverly it flowes
Thorough green stalkes that on the brink doe tarrye
Beneath the shadowe that the alder throwes.
Lithe boughs in the low wynde with soft complainynge
Make love-lorn sighes within that cool retreat;
Whyle the hot sun, his topmost height attainynge
Doth crack the earth with his soe ardent heat.
Pilgrym that on the hard high road hath wended,
Sorely athirst beneath the beames that blaze,
Here let thy wearinesse awhyle be ended;
Here take thyne ease awhyle from dustye wayes;
In the cool aire and shade thy heat forsakynge
Where the chill fountayne for thy thirst hath slakynge.





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