“It was an Hill plaste in an open plaine,

That round about was bordered with a wood

Of matchlesse hight, that seemed th’ earth to disdaine;

In which all trees of honour stately stood,

And did all winter as in sommer bud,

Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre,

Which in their lower braunches sung aloud;

And in their tops the soring hauke did towre,