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| WHAT fair pomp have I spied of glittering Ladies; | |
| With locks sparkled abroad, and rosy coronet | |
| On their ivory brows, trackt to the dainty thighs | |
| With robes like Amazons, blue as violet, | |
| With gold aiglets adorned, some in a changeable | 5 |
| Pale; with spangs wavering taught to be movable. | |
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| Then those Knights that afar off with dolorous viewing, | |
| Cast their eyes hitherward: lo, in an agony | |
| All unbraced, cry aloud, their heavy state rueing: | |
| Moist cheeks with blubbering, painted as ebony | 10 |
| Black; their feltred hair torn with wrathful hand: | |
| And whiles astonied, stark in a maze they stand. | |
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| But hark! what merry sound! what sudden harmony! | |
| Look! look near the grove! where the Ladies do tread | |
| With their Knights the measures weighed by the melody. | 15 |
| Wantons! whose traversing make men enamoured; | |
| Now they fain an honour, now by the slender waist | |
| He must her aloft, and seal a kiss in haste. | |
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| Straight down under a shadow for weariness they lie | |
| With pleasant dalliance, hand knit with arm in arm; | 20 |
| Now close, now set aloof, they gaze with an equal eye, | |
| Changing kisses alike; straight with a false alarm, | |
| Mocking kisses alike, pout with a lovely lip. | |
| Thus drowned with jollities, their merry days do slip. | |
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| But stay! now I discern they go on a pilgrimage | 25 |
| Towards LOVE’s holy land, fair Paphos or Cyprus. | |
| Such devotion is meet for a blithesome age; | |
| With sweet youth, it agrees well to be amorous. | |
| Let old angry fathers lurk in an hermitage: | |
| Come, we’ll associate this jolly pilgrimage! | 30 |
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