To match this monarch, with strong Arcite came Emetrius king of Inde, a mighty name! On a bay courser, goodly to behold, The trappings of his horse embossed with barbarous gold. Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace; His surcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace, Adorned with pearls, all orient, round, and great; His saddle was of gold, with emeralds set; His shoulders large a mantle did attire, With rubies thick, and sparkling as the fire; His amber-coloured locks in ringlets run, With graceful negligence, and shone against the sun. His nose was aquiline, his eyes were blue, Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue; Some sprinkled freckles on his face were seen, Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin: His awful presence did the crowd surprise, Nor durst the rash spectator meet his eyes; Eyes that confessed him born for kingly sway, So fierce, they flashed intolerable day. His age in nature's youthful prime appeared, And just began to bloom his yellow beard. Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around, Loud as a trumpet, with a silver sound; A laurel wreathed his temples, fresh and green, And myrtle sprigs, the marks of love, were mixed between. Upon his fist he bore, for his delight, An eagle well reclaimed, and lily white. His hundred knights attend him to the war, All armed for battle, save their heads were bare. Words and devices blazed on every shield, And pleasing was the terror of the field. For kings, and dukes, and barons, you might see, } Like sparkling stars, though different in degree, } All for the increase of arms, and love of chivalry. } Before the king tame leopards led the way, And troops of lions innocently play. So Bacchus through the conquered Indies rode, And beasts in gambols frisked before the honest god. In this array, the war of either side Through Athens passed with military pride. At prime, they entered on the Sunday morn; Rich tapestry spread the streets, and flowers the posts[161] adorn. The town was all a jubilee of feasts; So Theseus willed, in honour of his guests: Himself with open arms the kings embraced, Then all the rest in their degrees were graced. No harbinger was needful for the night, For every house was proud to lodge a knight. I pass the royal treat, nor must relate The gifts bestowed, nor how the champions sate; Who first, who last, or how the knights addressed Their vows, or who was fairest at the feast; Whose voice, whose graceful dance did most surprise; Soft amorous sighs, and silent love of eyes. The rivals call my muse another way, To sing their vigils for the ensuing day. 'Twas ebbing darkness, past the noon of night, And Phosphor, on the confines of the light, Promised the sun; ere day began to spring, } The tuneful lark already stretched her wing, } And flickering on her nest, made short essays to sing, }