A PICTURE OF FAIR WOMEN. AND as I sat, the birdis herk'ning thus, At the last, out of a grove evin by, I se where there came, singing lustily, The surcotes white, of velvet wele sittinge, As of grete perlis rounde and orient, On ther hedis of branches freshe and grene To win him worship, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly things he most did crave. And ever as he rode his heart did yearn To prove his puissance in battle brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learn ; Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stern. A lovely lady rode him fair beside, Under a veil, that wimpled was full low; So pure and innocent, as that same lamb, She was in life and every virtuous lore, And by descent from royal lineage came Of ancient kings and queens, that had of yore Their sceptre stretched from east to western shore. And all the world in their subjection held ; Behind her far away a dwarf did lag, The day with clouds was sudden overcast, Breeds dreadful doubts: oft fire is without smoke, And peril without show; therefore your stroke, Sir Knight, withhold, till further trial made.' "Ah, Lady," said he, "shame were to revoke The forward footing for an hidden shade: Virtue gives herself light through darkness for to wade." THE HOUSE OF SLEEP. HE making speedy way through 'spersèd air, And through the world of waters, wide and deep, To Morpheus' house doth hastily repair. Amid the bowels of the earth full steep, And low, where dawning day doth never peep, His dwelling is; there Thetis his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steep In silver dew his ever-drooping head, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spread. Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, In drowsy fits he finds; of nothing he takes keep. Had her abandoned; she, of nought afraid, Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought, Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought. One day, nigh weary of the irksome way, It fortuned, out of the thickest wood The lion would not leave her desolate, And, when she waked, he waited diligent, THE MARRIAGE OF UNA TO ST. GEORGE. His own two hands the holy knots did knit, That none but death for ever can divide; His own two hands, for such a turn most fit, The housling fire did kindle and provide, And holy water thereon sprinkled wide; At which the bushy teade a groom did light, And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide, Where it should not be quenched day nor night, [bright. For fear of evil fates, but burnen ever Then gan they sprinkle all the posts with wine, [day: And made great feast to solemnize that They all perfumed with frankincense divine, And precious odours fetched from far away, That all the house did sweat with great array. And all the while sweet music did apply Her curious skill the warbling notes to play, To drive away the dull melancholy; The whiles one sang a song of love and jollity. During the which there was an heavenly sweet Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly Himself thereby reft of his senses meet, And ravished with rare impression in his sprite. THE BOWER OF BLISS. THENCE passing forth, they shortly do arrive Whereas the Bower of Bliss was situate; Goodly it was enclosed round about, As well their entered guests to keep within, As those unruly beasts to hold without; Yet was the fence thereof but weak and thin; Nought feared their force, that fortilace to It framed was of precious ivory, First through the Euxine seas bore all the Ye might have seen the frothy billows fry A piteous spectacle did represent; All this and more might in that goodly gate Be read, that ever open stood to all Which thither came; but in the porch there sate A comely personage of stature tall, And semblance pleasing, more than natural, That travell'rs to him seemed to entice: His looser garment to the ground did fall, And flew about his heels in wanton wise, Nor fit for speedy pace or manly exercise. They in that place him Genius did call : Not that celestial Pow'r, to whom the care Of life, and generation of all That lives, pertains in charge particular, Who wondrous things concerning our welfare And strange phantoms, doth let us oft foresee, And oft of secret ills bids us beware: That is our Self, whom though we do not [be: Yet each doth in himself it well perceive to see, |