3370Fear snatcheth from my roseate banks their blood,
And drowns my liver in a sanguine flood.
'Tis strange a naked breast of bleachèd snow,
And crystal mounts enriched with coral heads,
(On which the purple violets do grow)
Should dare mine arm, and strike my courage dead.
My steel a breast of iron has unhinged.
And knees of brass have to my fury cringed.
Had some vast Gog or he whom Tellus brought—
One got by Fury or Gradivus' mate—