Another Damsell of that gentle crew,
That was right faire, and modest of demaine,
But that too oft she chaung’d her natiue hew:
Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew,
Close round about her tuckt with many a plight:
Vpon her fist the bird, which shonneth vew,
And keepes in couerts close from liuing wight,
Did sit, as yet ashamd, how rude Pan did her dight.
So long as Guyon with her commoned[748], xli
Vnto the ground she cast her modest eye,