Tamde with his raines, won heaven for lightnes, Exceeding fayre, and full of wightnes,[12] His brest art dectt with divers brightnes, For jeate blacke mixt with swans pure whightnes. Young and in dainty shape dygested, His lookes with pride, not rage, invested: His mayne thin haird, his neck high crested, Small eare, short head, and burly brested. His brode backe stoopt to this clerks-loved, Which with hir pressure nought was moved: Strait legd, large thighd, and hollow hoved, All Natures skill in him was proved. An ivorie seate on him had place, A hoope of golde did it imbrace, Graven: and the poitrell[13] did enchace A stone that star-like gave it grace. Inscription there allurde the eye, With many a wondrous misterie: Of ancient thinges made noveltie, That never man did yet descrie. The God of Rhetoriques nuptiall bowre, Adornd with every heavenly powre, The contract, and the mariage howre, And all the most unmeasurd dowre. No place was there that figurd nought, That could through all the world be sought: But more excesse of mervails wrought, Then might inceede[14] a humane thought. The skyll of Mulciber alone Engrav'd that admirable throne: Who looking stedfastly thereon, Scarse thought his hand such art had shone. The trappings wrought he not with ease, But all his payne employde to please: And left, to go in hand with these, The tardge of great Aeacides.[15] A styrrop for hir feete to presse, And bridle-bosses he did dresse, And added rains in worths excesse, Of his sweete spowses goulden tresse. Thus on their famouse cavalrye, These prince-borne damzels seemd to flye: Their soft young cheekebales to the eye Are of the fresh vermilion dye. So lillies out of scarlet peere, So roses of the vernall yeere, So shoote two wanton starrs y-feere[16] From the eternall burning spheere. The child-gods gracefull paradise, They joyntly purpose to invise:[17] And lovely emulations rise, In note of one anothers guise. Phillis to Flora, laughter led, And Flora Phillis answered: A merlin Phillis managed, A sparhawlke Flora caried. In little tyme these ladyes founde A grove with every pleasure crounde: At whose sweete entrie did resounde A foorde that flowrd that holy grounde. From thence the sweete-breathd winds convay Odors from every mirtle spray: And other flowrs, to whose aray A hundred harpes and timbrels play. All pleasurs studie can invent, The dames eares instantly present: Voyces in all sorts different, The foure parts, and the diapent.[18] Two tunes that from those voyces flie, With admirable harmonie: The tymbrell, harpe, and psalterie, Rejoyce in rapting symphonie.