And when he long had him beholding stood,
He burst into these words, as to him seemed good.
Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout as fayre, xxv
That in these woods amongst the Nymphs dost wonne,
Which daily may to thy sweete lookes repayre,
As they are wont vnto Latonaes sonne,
After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne:
Well may I certes such an one thee read,
As by thy worth thou worthily hast wonne,
Or surely borne of some Heroicke sead,