Of laurel some, of woodbine many more;
  And wreaths of Agnus castus[75] others bore;
  These last, who with those virgin crowns were dress’d,
  Appear’d in higher honour than the rest. 
  They danced around:  but in the midst was seen
  A lady of a more majestic mien;
  By stature, and by beauty mark’d their sovereign queen

    She in the midst began with sober grace;
  Her servants’ eyes were fix’d upon her face;
  And as she moved or turn’d, her motions view’d, 180
  Her measures kept, and step by step pursued. 
  Methought she trod the ground with greater grace,
  With more of godhead shining in her face;
  And as in beauty she surpass’d the quire,
  So, nobler than the rest, was her attire. 
  A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
  Plain without pomp, and rich without a show: 
  A branch of Agnus castus in her hand
  She bore aloft (her sceptre of command);
  Admired, adored by all the circling crowd, 190
  For wheresoe’er she turn’d her face, they bow’d: 
  And as she danced, a roundelay she sung,
  In honour of the laurel, ever young: 
  She raised her voice on high, and sung so clear,
  The fawns came scudding from the groves to hear: 
  And all the bending forest lent an ear. 
  At every close she made, the attending throng
  Replied, and bore the burden of the song: 
  So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
  It seem’d the music melted in the throat. 200

    Thus dancing on, and singing as they danced,
  They to the middle of the mead advanced,
  Till round my arbour a new ring they made,
  And footed it about the sacred shade. 
  O’erjoy’d to see the jolly troops so near,
  But somewhat awed, I shook with holy fear;
  Yet not so much, but what I noted well
  Who did the most in song or dance excel.

    Not long I had observed, when from afar
  I heard a sudden symphony of war; 210
  The neighing coursers, and the soldiers cry,
  And sounding trumps, that seem’d to tear the sky: 
  I saw soon after this, behind the grove
  From whence the ladies did in order move,
  Come issuing out in arms a warrior train,
  That like a deluge pour’d upon the plain;
  On barbed steeds they rode in proud array,
  Thick as the college of the bees in May,
  When swarming o’er the dusky fields they fly,
  New to the flowers, and intercept the sky, 220
  So fierce they drove, their coursers were so fleet,
  That the turf trembled underneath their feet.

    To tell their costly furniture were long,
  The summer’s day would end before the song: 
  To purchase but the tenth of all their store,
  Would make the mighty Persian monarch poor. 
  Yet what I can, I will; before the rest