Pale ganderglas, and azor culverkayes.
I count it better pleasure to behold
The goodly compasse of the lofty skie,
And in the midst thereof like burning gold,
The flaming chariot of the world's great eye;
The watry clouds that in the ayre uprold,
With sundry kinds of painted colours flie;
And faire Aurora lifting up her head,
All blushing rise from old Tithonus bed.
The hils and mountains raised from the plains,