"No gate, but like one, being goodly dight With bowes and braunches, which did broad dilate Their clasping armes in wanton wreathings intricate: "So fashioned a porch with rare device, Archt over head with an embracing vine, Whose bounches hanging downe seemed to entice All passers-by to taste their lushious wine, And did themselves into their hands incline, As freely offering to be gathered; Some deepe empurpled as the hyacine, Some as the rubine laughing sweetely red, Some like faire emeraudes, not yet well ripened.... "And in the midst of all a fountaine stood, Of richest substance that on earth might bee, So pure and shiny that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see; Most goodly it with curious ymageree Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes, Of which some seemed with lively iollitee To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid ioyes. "And over all of purest gold was spred A trayle of yvie in his native hew; For the rich metall was so coloured, That wight, who did not well avis'd it vew, Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew; Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe, That themselves dipping in the silver dew Their fleecy flowres they fearfully did steepe, Which drops of christall seemd for wantones to weep. "Infinit streames continually did well Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, The which into an ample laver fell, And shortly grew to such great quantitie, That like a little lake it seemd to bee; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits hight, That through the waves one might the bottom see, All pav'd beneath with jaspar shining bright, That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright.... "The ioyes birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet; Th' angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th' instruments divine respondence meet; The silver-sounding instruments did meet With the base murmur of the waters fall; The waters fall with difference discreet. Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all.... "Upon a bed of roses she was layd, As faint through heat, or dight to pleasant sin; And was arayd, or rather disarayd, All in a vele of silke and silver thin, That hid no whit her alabaster skin, But rather shewd more white, if more might bee: More subtile web Arachne cannot spin; Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see Of scorched deaw, do not in th' ayre more lightly flee. "Her snowy brest was bare to ready spoyle Of hungry eies, which n' ote therewith be fild; And yet, through languour of her late sweet toyle, Few drops, more cleare then nectar, forth distild, That like pure orient perles adowne it trild; And her faire eyes, sweet smyling in delight, Moystened their fierie beames, with which she thrild Fraile harts, yet quenched not, like starry lights Which sparckling on the silent waves, does seeme more bright."[369]