To melt the golden metall, ready to be tride.
One with great bellowes gathered filling aire, xxxvi
And with forst wind the fewell did inflame;
Another did the dying bronds repaire
With yron[672] toungs, and sprinckled oft the same
With liquid waues, fiers Vulcans rage to tame,
Who maistring them, renewd his former heat;
Some scumd the drosse, that from the metall came;
Some stird the molten owre with ladles great;
And euery one did swincke, and euery one did sweat.