Bright was the day, and blue the firmament; Phoebus of gold his streamës down had sent To gladden every flow’r with his warmnéss; He was that time in Geminis, I guess, But little from his declinatión Of Cancer, Jovë’s exaltatión. And so befell, in that bright morning-tide, That in the garden, on the farther side, Pluto, that is the king of Faërie, And many a lady in his company Following his wife, the queen Proserpina⁠— Which that he ravished out of Ethna, 2964 While that she gather’d flowers in the mead (In Claudian ye may the story read, How in his grisly chariot he her fet)⁠— 2965 This king of Faërie adown him set Upon a bank of turfës fresh and green, And right anon thus said he to his queen. “My wife,” quoth he, “there may no wight say nay⁠— 2966 Experience so proves it every day⁠— The treason which that woman doth to man.