Or is there any mystery in what is said of Belphoebe, that her hair was sprinkled with flowers and blossoms which had been entangled in it as she fled through the woods? Or is it necessary to have a more distinct idea of Proteus, than that which is given of him in his boat, with the frighted Florimel at his feet, while

the cold icicles from his rough beard

Dropped adown upon her snowy breast!"

Or is it not a sufficient account of one of the seagods that pass by them, to say

"That was Arion crowned :

So went he playing on the watery plain."

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 :

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:

"The first was Fancy, like a lovely boy
Of rare aspect, and beauty without peer;

His garment neither was of silk nor say,
But painted plumes in goodly order dight,
Like as the sun-burnt Indians do array

Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight:
As those same plumes so seem'd he vain and light,

That by his gait might easily appear; For still he far'd as dancing in delight,

And in his hand a windy fan did bear

That in the idle air he mov'd still here and there.

And him beside march'd amorous Desire,

Who seem'd of riper years than the other swain, Yet was that other swain this elder's sire,

And

gave him being, common to them twain: His garment was disguised very vain,

And his embroidered bonnet sat awry;

Twixt both his hands few sparks he close did strain, Which still he blew, and kindled busily,

That soon they life conceiv'd and forth in flames did fly.

Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad
In a discolour'd coat of strange disguise,
That at his back a broad capuccio had,

And sleeves dependant Albanese-wise;
He lookt askew with his mistrustful eyes,
And nicely trod, as thorns lay in his way,
Or that the floor to shrink he did avise;

And on a broken reed he still did stay

His feeble steps, which shrunk when hard thereon he lay.

With him went Daunger, cloth'd in ragged weed, Made of bear's skin, that him more dreadful made; Yet his own face was dreadfull, ne did need

Strange horror to deform his grisly shade;

A net in th' one hand, and a rusty blade

In th' other was; this Mischiefe, that Mishap; With th' one his foes he threat'ned to invade,

With th' other he his friends meant to enwrap; For whom he could not kill he practiz'd to entrap.

Next him was Fear, all arm'd from top to toe, Yet thought himselfe not safe enough thereby, But fear'd each shadow moving to and fro;

And his own arms when glittering he did spy Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly, As ashes pale of hue, and winged-heel'd; And evermore on Daunger fixt his eye,

'Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield, Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield.

With him went Hope in rank, a handsome maid,
Of chearfull look and lovely to behold;
In silken samite she was light array'd,

And her fair locks were woven up in gold;
She always smil'd, and in her hand did hold
An holy-water sprinkle dipt in dew,
With which she sprinkled favours manifold

On whom she list, and did great liking shew, Great liking unto many, but true love to few.

Next after them, the winged God himself
Came riding on a lion ravenous,

Taught to obey the menage of that elfe

That man and beast with power imperious
Subdueth to his kingdom tyrannous :

His blindfold eyes he bade awhile unbind,
That his proud spoil of that same dolorous

Fair dame he might behold in perfect kind Which seen, he much rejoiced in his cruel mind.

Of which full proud, himself uprearing high,
He looked round about with stern disdain,

And did survey his goodly company:

And marshalling the evil-ordered train,