That, some do say, was so by skill devized,

To hide the terror of her uncouth hew

From mortall eyes that should be sore agrized;
For that her face did like a Lion shew,
That of wight could not indure to view :
eye
But others tell that it so beautious was,
And round about such beames of splendor
threw,

That it the Sunne a thousand times did pass,
Ne could be seene but like an image in a glass.

VII

Most dainty trees, that, shooting up anon,
Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads full
lowe

For homage unto her, and like a throne did
showe,

IX

So hard it is for any living wight
All her array and vestiments to tell,
That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle spright,
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell)
In his Foules parley durst not with it mel,
But it transferd to Alane, who he thought
Had in his Plaint of kinde describ'd it well:
Which who will read set forth so as it ought,
Go seek he out that Alane where he may be
sought.

X

And all the earth far underneath her feete
Was dight with flowers that voluntary grew
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours sweet;
Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and hew,
That might delight the smell, or please the view,
The which the Nymphes from all the brooks
thereby

Had gathered, they at her foot-stoole threw ;
That richer seem'd then any tapestry,
That Princes bowres adorne with painted
imagery.

XI

And Mole himselfe, to honour her the more,
Did deck himselfe in freshest faire attire;
And his high head, that seemeth alwayes hore
With hardned frosts of former winters ire,
He with an Oaken girlond now did tire,
As if the love of some new Nymph, late seene,
Had in him kindled youthfull fresh desire,

That well may seemen true; for well I And made him change his gray attire to greene:

weene,

That this same day when she on Arlo sat,
Her garment was so bright and wondrous
sheene,

That my fraile wit cannot devize to what
It to compare, nor finde like stuffe to that:
As those three sacred Saints, though else most
wise,

Yet on mount Thabor quite their wits forgat,
When they their glorious Lord in strange dis-
guise
[their eyes.

Ah, gentle Mole! such joyance hath thee well beseene.

XII

Was never so great joyance since the day
That all the gods whylome assembled were
On Hæmus hill in their divine array,
To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare
Twixt Peleus and Dame Thetis pointed there;
Where Phoebus selfe, that god of Poets hight,
They say, did sing the spousall hymne full
cleere,

Transfigur'd sawe; his garments so did daze That all the gods were ravisht with delight Of his celestiall song, and Musicks wondrous might.

VIII

In a fayre Plaine upon an equall Hill
She placed was in a pavilion;
Not such as Craftes-men by their idle skill
Are wont for Princes states to fashion;
But th' Earth herselfe, of her owne motion,
Out of her fruitfull bosome made to growe

XIII

This great Grandmother of all creatures bred, Great Nature, ever young, yet full of eld; Still mooving, yet unmoved from her sted; Unseene of any, yet of all beheld;

Thus sitting in her throne, as I have teld,

Thus gan her plaintif Plea with words to Unlike in forme, and chang'd by strange disamplifie:

XXIII

Of all the which demand in generall, 'Therein the changes infinite beholde, Or judge thyselfe, by verdit of thine eye, Which to her creatures every minute chaunce; Whether to me they are not subject all.' Now boyling hot, streight friezing deadly cold; Nature did yeeld thereto; and by-and-by Now faire sun-shine, that makes all skip and Bade Order call them all before her Majesty.

tenance

XXVIII

daunce; Streight bitter stormes, and balefull counThat makes them all to shiver and to shake: So forth issew'd the Seasons of the yeare. Rayne, haile, and snowe do pay them sad First, lusty Spring, all dight in leaves of [quake) [beare, And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make them That freshly budded and new bloosmes did With flames and flashing lights that thousand (In which a thousand birds had built their changes make.

penance,

flowres

bowres

That sweetly sung to call forth Paramours)
And in his hand a javelin he did beare,
And on his head (3 fit for warlike stoures)
A guilt engraven morion he did weare;
That as some did him love, so others did him
feare.

XXIX

Then came the jolly Sommer, being dight
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,
That was unlyned all, to be more light;"
And on his head a girlond well beseene
He wore, from which, as he had chauffed been,
The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore
A boawe and shaftes, as he in forrest greene
Had hunted late the Libbard or the Bore,
And now would bathe his limbes with labor
heated sore.

XXX

Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad,
As though he joyed in his plentious store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full
glad

Had by the belly oft him pinched sore:
That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore;
And in his hand a sickle he did holde,
To reape the ripened fruits the which the
earth had yold.

XXXI

Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in frize,
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him
chill;
[freese,
Whil'st on his hoary beard his breath did
And the dull drops, that from his purpled
bill

As from a limbeck did adown distill.
In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld,
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable was to

weld.

And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he beares, Yet is he nought but parting of the breath; Of which he freely drinks an health to all his Ne ought to see, but like a shade to weene,

peeres.

XLII

Then came old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away;
Yet did he quake and quiver, like to quell,
And blowe his nayles to warme them if he may;
For they were numbd with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray:
Upon an huge great Earth-pot steane he stood,
From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the
Romane Flood.

XLIII

And lastly came cold February, sitting
In an old wagon, for he could not ride,
Drawne of two fishes, for the season fitting,
Which through the flood before did softly slyde
And swim away: yet had he by his side
His plough and harnesse fit to till the ground,
And tooles to prune the trees, before the pride
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein
round.

So past the twelve Months forth, and their dew
places found.

XLIV

Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene:
But Life was like a faire young lusty boy,
Such as they faine Dan Cupid to have beene,
Full of delightfull health and lively joy,
Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold fit
to employ.

these

And all things else that under heaven dwell Are chaung'd of Time, who doth them all disseise

Of being: But who is it (to me tell) [pell And after these there came the Day and That Time himselfe doth move, and still com

Night,

Riding together both with equall pase,
Th' one on a Palfrey blacke, the other white;
But Night had covered her uncomely face
With a blacke veile, and held in hand a mace,
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight;
And sleep and darknesse round about did

To keepe his course? Is not that namely wee
Which poure that vertue from our heavenly cell
That moves them all, and makes them changed
be?

So them we gods do rule, and in them also
thee.