From “The Faërie Queene,” Book II. Canto XII.
  THERE the most daintie paradise on ground
  Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye,
  In which all pleasures plenteously abownd,
  And none does others happinesse envye;
  The painted flowres; the trees upshooting hye;
  The dales for shade; the hilles for breathing space;
  The trembling groves...