And all within with flowers was garnishéd That, when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew, Did breathe out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew

No daintie flowre or herbe that grows on ground; No arborett with painted blossoms drest, And smelling sweete, but there it might be found, To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al around.