The daintie rose, the daughter of her morne,
More dear than life she tendered, whose flowre
The girlond of her honour did adorne:
Ne suffred she the middayes scorching powre,
Ne the sharp northerne wind thereon to showre;
But lapped up her silken leaves most chayre,
Whenso the froward sky began to lowre;
But, soon as calmed was the cristall ayre,
She did it fayre dispred and let to florish faire.
(Liv. III, ch. V, str. 51, et liv. II, chant 3.)
Sweet love, that doth his golden wings embay
In blessed nectar and pure pleasures well.
(Liv. III, ch. II, st. 2.)
It was upon a sommers shiny day,
When Titan faire his beames did display,
In a fresh fountaine, far from all mens vew,
She bath'd her brest the boyling heat t'alley;
She bath'd with roses red and violets blew
And all the sweetest flowers that in the forrest grew.
Till faint through yrkesome wearines adowne
Upon the grassy ground herself she layd
To sleep, the whiles a gentle slombring swowne
Upon her fell all naked bare displayd....
(Liv. III, chant VI.)