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16
The second muse
Arise Monsier, arise: then I awoke,
And found it was Gals voice unto me spoke,
Which made me doubt, if so could come to passe:
Then answer'd Gall, although your bow were brasse,
That might be done; and I'm the man will do it
What say you Gall? Quod I, then let us to it.
Foorthwith we drest us in our archer grath,
And to the fields we came, like men in wrath:
When we our nerves and tendons had extended,
Incontinent our bowes were bravely bended;
The skie was wondrous cleer, Apollo fair
Greatlie delighted to behold us there:
And did disperse the clouds, that he might see
What matchlesse skill we prov'd in archerie.
The cristall river Phæbus beames reflected;
As glad of us, them in our face directed:
The flowrie plains, and mountains, all the while
That we were shutting, meriely did smile.
Meane while, for honours praise as we were swelting
The sweat from of our brows and temples melting,
Phæbus, as seeming to envie our skill,
His quiver with some firie shafts did fill,
And from his silver bow at us he darted
These shafts, to make us faint and feeble hearted:
Whose mightie force we could not well oppose,
Under a shade we therefore did repose
A pretie while, hard by a silver streame,
Which did appear some melodie to frame.
Running alongst the snow white pibble stones
Mourning did murmure ioyes, commixt with moanes:
And found it was Gals voice unto me spoke,
Which made me doubt, if so could come to passe:
Then answer'd Gall, although your bow were brasse,
That might be done; and I'm the man will do it
What say you Gall? Quod I, then let us to it.
Foorthwith we drest us in our archer grath,
And to the fields we came, like men in wrath:
When we our nerves and tendons had extended,
Incontinent our bowes were bravely bended;
The skie was wondrous cleer, Apollo fair
Greatlie delighted to behold us there:
And did disperse the clouds, that he might see
What matchlesse skill we prov'd in archerie.
The cristall river Phæbus beames reflected;
As glad of us, them in our face directed:
The flowrie plains, and mountains, all the while
That we were shutting, meriely did smile.
Meane while, for honours praise as we were swelting
The sweat from of our brows and temples melting,
Phæbus, as seeming to envie our skill,
His quiver with some firie shafts did fill,
And from his silver bow at us he darted
These shafts, to make us faint and feeble hearted:
Whose mightie force we could not well oppose,
Under a shade we therefore did repose
A pretie while, hard by a silver streame,
Which did appear some melodie to frame.
Running alongst the snow white pibble stones
Mourning did murmure ioyes, commixt with moanes:
A