To wit, that virgin queene, the faire Elize,
That whilom was our England’s richest prize;
In princelie station with great Iunoe’s grace
(Me seem’d) she came in her maiesticke pace,
Grac’d with the lookes of daunting maiestie,
Mixt with the meekenesse of milde clemencie;
Such haue I seene her, when in princely state
She goddesse-like in chariot high hath sate,
When troopes of people with loud shouts and cries,
Haue sounded out their auies in the skies: