Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,
And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,
That nought their kindled courage may aswage,[369]
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd;[370]
The God of warre with his fiers equipage
Thou doest awake, sleepe neuer he so sownd,
And scared[371] nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.
Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit aside, vii
Till I of warres and bloudy Mars do sing,