The poem
ONe day as I vnwarily did gaze on those fayre eyes my loues immortall light: the whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze, through sweet illusion of her lookes delight. I mote perceiue how in her glauncing sight, legions of loues with little wings did fly: darting their deadly arrowes fyry bright at euery rash beholder passing by. One of those archers closely I did spy, ayming his arrow at my very hart: when suddenly with twincle of her eye, the Damzell broke his misintended dart. Had she not so doon, sure I had bene slayne, yet as it was, I hardly scap't with paine.