"There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream. Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure; Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father Brute. She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enragèd step-dame Guendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course. The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played, Held up their pearlèd wrists and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus’ hall; Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe In nectared lavers, strewed with asphodel: And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropped in ambrosial oils, till she revived, And underwent a quick immortal change, Made goddess of the river."