Of passing valew, and of great renowme,
On which there stood an Image all alone,
Of massy gold, which with his owne light shone;
And wings it had with sundry colours dight,
More sundry colours, then the proud Pauone
Beares in his boasted fan, or Iris bright,
When her discolourd bow she spreds through heauen bright[1156].
Blindfold he was, and in his cruell fist xlviii
A mortall bow and arrowes keene did hold,
With which he shot at randon, when him list,