"Yea, Italy; that with her triumphs bright, Without that lady fair shall captive be."
A lofty song appears of her to indite A lord of the Correggio's noble tree;
And, Benedeo's pride, Timotheus hight.
Between his banks, descending to the sea, By their joint music shall the stream be stopt, Whose trees erewhile the liquid amber dropt.
