For Asop's daughter did such flame contract,As not by all that stock of water slack'd.I might a hundred goodly rivers name,But must not pass by thee, immortal Thame;Ere thou couldst Isis to thy bosom take.How didst thou wind and wander for her sake!The lusty — with broad Humber strove;Was it for fame ? I say it was for love.What makes the noble Ouse up from the mainWith hideous roar come bristling back again ?He thinks his dearest Dervent left behind,Or fears her false, in new embraces joined.Thee also some small girl has warm'd, we guess,Tho' woods and forests now hide thy soft place.Whilst this I speak, it swells and broader grows,And o'er the highest banks impetuous flows.Dog-flood, what art to me ? or why dost checkOur mutual joys ? and, churl, my journey break ?What wouldst, if thee indeed some noble race,Or high descent, and glorious name did grace ?