Within her hair Venus and Cupid sport them;
Some time they twist it, amber-like, in gold,
To which the whistling winds do oft resort them,
As if they strove to have the knots unrolled;
Some time they let their golden tresses dangle,
And therewith nets and amorous gins they make
Wherewith the hearts of lovers to entangle,
Which once enthralled, no ransom they will take.
But as two tyrants sitting in their thrones
Look on their slaves with tyrannizing eyes;
So they, no whit regarding lovers' moans,
Doom worlds of hearts to endless slaveries
Unless they subject-like swear to adore
And serve Emaricdulfe forevermore.