Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise, xiii And yieldes her to extremitie of time; So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise, And walketh forth without suspect of crime: They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime, Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round, Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme, And with greene braunches strowing all the ground, Do worship her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround. And all the way their merry pipes they sound, xiv That all the woods with doubled[214] Eccho ring, And with their horned feet do weare the ground, Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring. So towards old _Syluanus_ they her bring; Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out, To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning, And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout, And with an yuie twyne his wast[215] is girt about. Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad, xv Or[216] _Bacchus_ merry fruit they did inuent, Or _Cybeles_ franticke rites haue made them mad; They drawing nigh, vnto their God present That flowre of faith and beautie excellent. The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare, Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent; His owne faire _Dryope_ now he thinkes not faire, And _Pholoe_ fowle, when her to this he doth compaire. The woodborne people fall before her flat, xvi And worship her as Goddesse of the wood; And old _Syluanus_ selfe bethinkes not, what To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood, In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood; Sometimes Dame _Venus_ selfe he seemes to see, But _Venus_ neuer had so sober mood; Sometimes _Diana_ he her takes to bee, But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee. By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue xvii His ancient loue, and dearest _Cyparisse_, And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue, How faire he was, and yet not faire to this, And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse; For griefe whereof the lad n’ould after ioy, But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy. The wooddy Nymphes, faire _Hamadryades_ xviii Her to behold do thither runne apace, And all the troupe of light-foot _Naiades_, Flocke all about to see her louely face: But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace, They enuie her in their malitious mind, And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace: But all the _Satyres_ scorne their woody kind, And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.