Phœbus was Judge, betweene Jove, Mars, & love,
Of those three Gods whose armes the fairest were:
Joves golden shield, did Eagle Sables beare:
Whose talents held young Ganimede above.
But in verde fielde, Mars bare a golden Speare,
Which through a bleeding heart, his point did shove:
Each had his Crest, Mars carried Venus glove.
Jove on his Helme the Thunderbolt did reare.
Cupid then smiles, for on his crest there lyes
Stellas faire haire, her face he makes his shielde:
Where Roses gueules, are borne in silver fielde.
Phœbus drewe wide the Curtaine of the skyes
To blase the last, and swore devoutly then:
The first thus macht, were scarcely Gentlemen.