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He spar’d no house, nor of the little Bee
The sweetest worke (the Mistresse of her art)
This cruell beast had no regarde of men,
For whose auaile each thing created was.
But as the supreme Gods would not consent,
With angrie hand to spoile the world anew:
They did prouide forthwith a speedie helpe,
Since humane skill and wit could not preuaile.
For God Apollo going foorth to hunt,
With bowe and quiuer full of wounding shaftes:
Onely on Buckes his cunning aime to trie,
On mountaine goates, wilde boares, and sauage beastes,
He did by chaunce encounter with thisSerpent;
Which cruell monster when he did behold,
He by and by contemn’d his wonted chace,
To make his name eternall by his death.
For straight he bent his hardned bowe of steele,
And from his backe his golden quiuer tooke,
And drew thereout his shaftes with wounding heads;
Which dipt in poyson, he did shoote with force,
And nailed them betweene the Serpents skailes,
And there lay Python stretched on the ground.
(For this the cruell Serpent had to name)
Apollo haughty in his ioyfull minde,
For glory of so great an enterprise,
Remaining there, to view his noble spoiles,
Proude with himselfe he did triumph so much
For this great victory, that he did thinke
That heauen had not a God like to himselfe;
Which by his speeches he did manifest,
Speaking sometimes vnto the monstrous beast,
Sometimes vnto his quiuer, and his bowe;
With ioy and pride did vtter foorth these wordes.

Glorie of glories O most excellent,
Triumph of triumphes O the most esteemed,
Of victories O worthy victorie.
O deede, aboue all deedes in honour deemed:
O chance, then any chance more eminent:
O fame of fames the sole supremacie.
O happy war, whereby
My arme so fortunate
With power did abate
The fiercest Serpent that was euer bred:
O crowne most worthy for my conquering head.
O bowe, that from complaining didst deliuer
The people well nie dead,
O happy shaftes, O braue and blessed quiuer.