Or to take the Procession of the Passions that draw the coach of Pride, in which the figures of Idleness, of Gluttony, of Lechery, of Avarice, of Envy, and of Wrath speak, one should think, plain enough for themselves; such as this of Gluttony: ‘And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, Deformed creature, on a filthy swine; His belly was up blown with luxury; And eke with fatness swollen were his eyne; And like a crane his neck was long and fine, With which he swallowed up excessive feast, For want whereof poor people oft did pine. In green vine leaves he was right fitly clad; For other clothes he could not wear for heat: And on his head an ivy garland had, From under which fast trickled down the sweat: Still as he rode, he somewhat still did eat. And in his hand did bear a bouzing can, Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat His drunken corse he scarce upholden can; In shape and size more like a monster than a man.’ Or this of Lechery: ‘And next to him rode lustfull Lechery Upon a bearded goat, whose rugged hair And whaly eyes (the sign of jealousy) Was like the person’s self whom he did bear: Who rough and black, and filthy did appear. Unseemly man to please fair lady’s eye: Yet he of ladies oft was loved dear, When fairer faces were bid standen by: O! who does know the bent of woman’s fantasy? In a green gown he clothed was full fair, Which underneath did hide his filthiness; And in his hand a burning heart he bare, Full of vain follies and new fangleness; For he was false and fraught with fickleness; And learned had to love with secret looks; And well could dance; and sing with ruefulness; And fortunes tell; and read in loving books; And thousand other ways to bait his fleshly hooks. Inconstant man that loved all he saw, And lusted after all that he did love; Ne would his looser life be tied to law; But joyed weak women’s hearts to tempt and prove, If from their loyal loves he might them move.’ This is pretty plain-spoken. Mr. Southey says of Spenser: ‘——Yet not more sweet Than pure was he, and not more pure than wise; High priest of all the Muses’ mysteries!’ On the contrary, no one was more apt to pry into mysteries which do not strictly belong to the Muses. Of the same kind with the Procession of the Passions, as little obscure, and still more beautiful, is the Mask of Cupid, with his train of votaries: