They went to cheer the faction of the green. 
  The queen in white array, before her band,
  Saluting, took her rival by the hand;
  So did the knights and dames, with courtly grace,
  And with behaviour sweet their foes embrace; 400
  Then thus the queen with laurel on her brow—­
  Fair sister, I have suffer’d in your woe;
  Nor shall be wanting aught within my power
  For your relief in my refreshing bower. 
  That other answer’d with a lowly look,
  And soon the gracious invitation took: 
  For ill at ease both she and all her train
  The scorching sun had borne, and beating rain. 
  Like courtesy was used by all in white,
  Each dame a dame received, and every knight a knight. 410
  The laurel champions with their swords invade
  The neighbouring forests, where the jousts were made,
  And serewood from the rotten hedges took,
  And seeds of latent fire, from flints provoke: 
  A cheerful blaze arose, and by the fire
  They warm’d their frozen feet, and dried their wet attire. 
  Refresh’d with heat, the ladies sought around
  For virtuous herbs, which, gather’d from the ground,
  They squeezed the juice, and cooling ointment made,
  Which on their sun-burnt cheeks, and their chapt skins they laid:  420
  Then sought green salads, which they bade them eat,
  A sovereign remedy for inward heat.

    The Lady of the Leaf ordain’d a feast,
  And made the Lady of the Flower her guest: 
  When, lo! a bower ascended on the plain,
  With sudden seats ordain’d, and large for either train. 
  This bower was near my pleasant arbour placed,
  That I could hear and see whatever pass’d: 
  The ladies sat with each a knight between,
  Distinguish’d by their colours, white and green; 430
  The vanquish’d party with the victors join’d,
  Nor wanted sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind. 
  Meantime the minstrels play’d on either side,
  Vain of their art, and for the mastery vied: 
  The sweet contention lasted for an hour,
  And reach’d my secret arbour from the bower.

    The sun was set; and Vesper, to supply
  His absent beams, had lighted up the sky. 
  When Philomel, officious all the day
  To sing the service of the ensuing May, 440
  Fled from her laurel shade, and wing’d her flight
  Directly to the queen array’d in white: 
  And, hopping, sat familiar on her hand,
  A new musician, and increased the band.

    The goldfinch, who, to shun the scalding heat,
  Had changed the medlar for a safer seat,
  And hid in bushes ’scaped the bitter shower,
  Now perch’d upon the Lady of the Flower;
  And either songster holding out their throats,
  And folding up their wings, renew’d their notes:  450
  As if all day, precluding to the fight,