When Flora proud in pomp of all her flovers
Sat bright and gay,
And gloried in the dew of Iris' showers,
And did display
Her mantle chequer'd all with gaudy green.
(Greene, Never too late.)
How oft have I descending Titan seen
His burning locks couch in the sea-green lap
And beautous Thetys his red body wrap
In watery robes, as he her lord had been!
(Id.)
The joyous day gan early to appeare,
And fayre Aurora from the deawy bed
Of aged Tithone gan herself to reare
With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red;
Her golden looks, for hast, were loosely shed
About her eares, when Una her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred,
From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke;
With merry note her lowd salutes the mounting larke.
(Spenser, Fairy Queen, liv. I, ch. II, strop. 1.)
[308]: Celebration of Charis.
See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes, all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty;
And enamour'd do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that love's world compriseth!
Do but look on her, she is bright
As love's star when it riseth!....
Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Have you felt the wool of the beaver,
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smell'd of the bud o' the brier?
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!