Her ivory forehead, full of bounty brave,
Like a broad table did itself dispread,
For Love his lofty triumphs to engrave,
And write the battles of his great godhead:
All good and honor might therein be read;
For there their dwelling was. And, when she spake
Sweet words, like dropping honey, she did shed;
And ‘twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake
A silver sound that heavenly music seemed to make.
—Spenser.