That space, where raging waues doe now diuide
From the great continent our happie isle,
Was some-time land; and where tall shippes doe glide,
Once with deare arte the crooked plough did tyle:
Once those faire bounds stretcht out so farre and wide,
Where townes, no, shires enwall'd, endeare each mile,
Were all ignoble sea, and marish vile,
Where Proteus' flockes danc'd measures to the tyde.
So age, transforming all, still forward runnes,
No wonder though the earth doth change her face,
New manners, pleasures new, turne with new sunnes,
Lockes now like gold grow to an hoarie grace;
Nay, minde's rare shape doth change; that lyes despis'd
Which was so deare of late, and highlie pris'd.