Eftsoone she said, "Ah! gentle trustie squyre,
What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave!
Or why should ever I henceforth desyre
To see faire Heavens face, and life not leave,
Sith that false traytour did my honour reave?"
"False traytour certes," saide the Faerie knight,
"I read the man, that ever would deceave
A gentle lady, or her wrong through might:
Death were too litle paine for such a fowle despight.
"But now, fayre lady, comfort to you make,
And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull
plight,

That short revenge the man may overtake,
Whereso he be, and soone upon him light."
"Certes," said she, "I wote not how he hight,
But under him a gray steede he did wield,
Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;
Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

He bore a bloodie crosse, that quartred all the field."

"Now by my head," said Guyon, "much I muse,
How that same knight should doe so fowle amis,
Or ever gentle damizell so abuse:
For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and true of word yw's:
I present was, and can it witnesse well,
When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris
Th' adventure of the errant damozell;

In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tell.

Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,
And fairely quit him of th' imputed blame;
Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde,
Or make you good amendment for the same:
All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame.
Now therefore, lady, rise out of your paine,
And see the salving of your blotted name."
Fall loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;
For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such as she did faine,
Ne yet her person such as it was seene;
But under simple shew, and semblant plaine,
Larkt false Duessa secretly unseene,
As a chaste virgin that had wronged beene;
So had false Archimago her disguysd,
To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;
And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

To be her squire, and do her service well aguisd.

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found
Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,
Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground,
And with greene mosse cov'ring her nakednesse
To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,
Sith her prince Arthur of proud ornaments
And borrowd beauty spoyld: her nathëlesse
Th' enchannter finding fit for his intents
Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

For all he did was to deceive good knights,
And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame
To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,
And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.
And now exceeding griefe him overcame,
To see the Redcrosse thus advanced hye;
Therefore this craftie engine be did frame,
Against his praise to stirre up enmitye

Of such, as vertues like mote unto him allye.
VOL. II.

So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way
Through woods and mountaines, till they came
Into a pleasant dale that lowly lay
Betwixt two hils, whose high beads, overplast,
The valley did with coole shade overcast ;
Through midst thereof a little river rold,
By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,
Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,
After his travell long and labours manifold.
"Lo! yonder he," cryde Archimage alowd,
"That wrought the shamefull fact which I did
And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd, [shew;
To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew;
But vaine; for ye shall dearely do him rew:
(So God ye speed and send you good successe!)
Which we far off will here abide to vew."
So they him left inflam'd with wrathfulnesse,
That streight against that knight his speare he did
addresse.

Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,
His warlike armes about him gan embrace,
And in the rest his ready speare did sticke;
Tho, whenas still he saw him towards pace,
He gan rencounter him in equall race.
They bene ymett, both ready to affrap,
When suddeinly that warriour gan abace
His threatned speare, as if some new mishap
Ilad him betide, or hidden danger did entrap;
And cryde, "Mercie, sir Knight! and mercie, lord,
For mine offence and heedelesse hardiment, -
That had almost committed crime abhord,
And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,
Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,
The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,
Which on your shield is set for ornament!"
But his fierce foe his steed could stay uncath,
Who, prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell
breath.

But, when he heard him speake, streight way he
His errour; and, himselfe inclyning, sayd; [knew
"Ah! deare sir Guyon, well becommeth you,
But me behoveth rather to upbrayd,
Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd,
That almost it did haynous violence

On that fayre ymage of that heavenly mayd,
That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:
Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew offence."
So beene they both atone, and doen upreare
Their bevers bright each other for to greet;
Goodly comportaunce each to other beare,
And entertaine themselves with court'sies meet.
Then said the Redcrosse knight, "Now motel weet,
Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce,
And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet;
For, sith I know your goodly gouvernaunce,
Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some uncouth
chaunce."

"Certes," said he, "well mote I shame to tell
The fond encheason that me hether led.
A false infámons faitour late befell
Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,
And playnd of grievous outrage, which he red
A knight had wrought against a lady gent;
Which to avenge, he to this place me led,
Where you he made the marke of his intent,
And now is fed: foule shame him follow wher he
went!"

So can he turne his earnest unto game,
Through goodly handling and wise temperaunce.
By this his aged guide in presence came;
Who, soone as on that knight his eye did glaunce,
Eftsoones of him had perfect cognizaunce,
Sith him in Faery court be late avizd: [chaunce,
And said; "Fayre sonne, God give you happy
And that deare crosse uppon your shield devizd,
Wherewith above all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd!

"Joy may you have, and everlasting fame,
Of late most hard atchiev'ment by you donne,
For which enrolled is your glorious name
In heavenly regesters above the Sunne,
Where you a saint with saints your seat have wonne !
But wretched we, where ye have left your marke,
Must now anew begin like race to ronne.
God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,
And to the wished haven bring thy weary barke !"

"Palmer," him answered the Redcrosse knight,
"His be the praise, that this atchiev'ment wrought,
Who made my hand the organ of his might!
More then goodwill to me attribute nought;
For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire sir, whose pageant next ensewes,
Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,
That home ye may report thrise happy newes!
For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle thewes."

So courteous congé both did give and take,
With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.
Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make
With his blacke palmer, that him guided still:
Still he him guided over dale and hill,
And with his steedy staffe did point his way;
His race with reason, and with words his will,
From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay,
And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps to stray.

In this faire wize they traveild long yfere,
Through many hard assayes which did betide;
Of which he honour still away did beare,
And spred his glory through all countryes wide.
At last, as chaunst them by a forest side
To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,
They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride
With percing shriekes and many a dolefull lay;
Which to attend,awhile their forward steps they stay.

"But if that carelesse Hevens," quoth she, “de-
The doome of just revenge, and take delight [spise
To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries,
As bownd by them to live in lives despight;
Yet can they not warne Death from wretched wight.
Come, then; come soone; come, sweetest Death, to
And take away this long lent loathed light: [me,
Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweete the medicines be,
That long captived soules from weary thraldome
free.

"But thou, sweete babe, whom frowning froward
Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall, [fate
Sith Heven thee deignes to hold in living state,
Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall
Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall!
Live thou! and to thy mother dead attest,
That cleare she dide from blemish criminal!:

Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw
That through the wood re-echoed againe;
And after gave a grone so deepe and low
That seemd her tender hart was rent in twaine,
Or thrild with point of thorough-piercing paine:
As gentle hynd, whose sides with cruell steele
Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine,
Whiles the sad pang approching shee does feele,
Braies out her latest breath, and up her eies doth
seele.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict
From his tall steed, he rusht into the thick,
And soone arrived where that sad pourtraict
Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quick;
In whose white alabaster brest did stick
A cruell knife that made a griesly wownd,
From which forth gusht a stream of goreblood thick,
That all her goodly garments stand arownd,
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy grownd.

Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart,
Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay,
Which shee increased with her bleeding hart,
And the cleane waves with purple gore did ray:
Als in her lap a lovely babe did play
His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;
For in her streaming blood he did embay
His litle hands, and tender ioints embrew:
Pitifull spectacle, as ever eie did vew!

Besides them both, upon the soiled gras
The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,
Whose armour all with blood besprincled was;
His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett being ded
Seemd to have beene a goodly personage,
Now in his freshest flowre of lustyhed,
Fitt to inflame faire lady with loves rage,
But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

Whom when the good sir Guyon did behold,
His hart gan wexe as starke as marble stone,
And his fresh blood did frieze with fearefull cold,
That all his sences seemd berefte attone:
At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to grone,
As lion, grudging in his great disdaine,
Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone;
Til ruth and fraile affection did constraine [paine.
His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward

Out of her gored wound the cruell steel
He lightly snatcht, and did the floodgate stop
With his faire garment: then gan softly feel
Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop
Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop:
Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire
To call backe life to her forsaken shop:
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,
That at the last shee gan to breath out living aire.
Which he perceiving, greatly gan reioice,
And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart
Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweete voice;
"Ay me! deare lady, which the ymage art
Of ruefull pitty and impatient smart,
What direfull chaunce armd with avenging fate,
Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell part,
Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date? [late."

Therewith her dim eie-lids she up gan reare,
On which the dreary Death did sitt as sad
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare:
But when as him, all in bright armour clad,
Before her standing she espied had,
As one out of a deadly dreame affright,
She weakely started, yet she nothing drad:
Streight downe againe herselfe in great despight
She groveling threw to ground, as hating life and
light.

The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine
Uplifted light, and softly did uphold:

Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunck againe,
Till he his armes about her sides gan fold,
And to her said; "Yet, if the stony cold
Have not all seized on your frozen hart,
Let one word fall that may your grief unfold,
And tell the secrete of your mortall smart: [part."
He oft finds present helpe, who does his griefe im-

Then, casting up a deadly looke, full low
She sigh❜t from bottome of her wounded brest ;
And, after many bitter throbs did throw,
With lips full pale and foltring tong opprest,
These words she breathed forth from riven chest;
"Leave, ah! leave off, whatever wight thou bee,
To lett a weary wretch from her dew rest,
And trouble dying soules tranquilitee; [me."
Take not away now got, which none would give to

"Ah! far be it," said he, "deare dame, fro mee,
To hinder soule from her desired rest,
Or hold sad life in long captivitee:
For, all I seeke, is but to have redrest
The bitter pangs that doth your heart infest.
Tell then, O lady, tell what fatall priefe
Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest;
That I may cast to compas your reliefe,

Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe,"

With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye,
As Heven accusing guilty of her death,
And with dry drops congealed in her eye,
In these sad wordes she spent her utmost breath;
"Heare then, O man, the sorrowes that uneath
My tong can tell, so far all sence they pas!
Loe! this dead corpse, that lies here underneath,
The gentlest knight, that ever on greene gras
Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good sir Mer-
dant was:

"Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now!)
My lord, my love, my deare lord, my deare love,
So long as Hevens iust with equall brow
Vouchsafed to behold us from above.
One day, when him high corage did emmove,
(As wont ye knightes to seeke adventures wilde)
He pricked forth his puissaunt force to prove,
Me then he left enwombed of this childe,
This luckles childe, whom thus ye see with blood de-

"Her blis is all in pleasure, and delight, Wherewith she makes her lovers dronken mad; And then with wordes, and weedes, of wondrous On them she workes her will to uses bad: [might, My liefest lord she thus beguiled had;

For he was flesh: (all flesh doth frayltie breed!)
Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad,
(Weake wretch) I wrapt myselfe in palmers weed
And cast to seek him forth through danger and great
dreed.

"Now had fayre Cynthia by even tournes
Full measured three quarters of her yeare,
And thrice three tymes had fild her crooked hornes,
Whenas my wombe her burdein would forbeare,
And bad me call Lucina to me neare.
Lucina came: a manchild forth I brought: [weare:
The woods, the nymphes, my bowres, my midwives,
Yet nought too dear I deemd, while so my deare 1
Hard help at need! so deare thee, babe, I bought;
sought.

"Him so I sought; and so at last I fownd,
Where him that witch had thralled to her will,
In chaines of lust and lewde desyres ybownd,
And so transformed from his former skill,
That me he knew not, nether his owne ill;
Till, through wise handling and faire governaunce,
I him recured to a better will,
Purged from drugs of fowle intempraunce:
Then meanes I gan devise for his deliverance.
"Which when the vile enchaunteresse perceiv'd,
How that my lord from her I would reprive,
With cup thus charmd him parting she deceivd;
Sad verse, give death to him that death does give,
And losse of love to her that loves to live,
So soone as Bacchus with the nymphe does lincke!'
So parted we, and on our iourney drive;
Till, coming to this well, he stoupt to drincke:
The charme fulfild, dead suddeinly he downe did

sincke,

« Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse!)
To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne;
Acrasia, a false enchaunteresse,
That many errant knightes have fowle fordonne;
Within a wandring island, that doth ronne
And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is:
Fayre sir, if ever there ye travell, shonne
The cursed land where many wend amis,

"But Temperaunce," said he, "with golden squire
Betwixt them both can measure out a meane;
Nether to melt in pleasures whott desyre,
Nor frye in hartlesse griefe and dolefull tene:
Thrise happy man, who fares them both atwcene!
But sith this wretched woman overcome
Of anguish, rather then of crime, hạth bene,
Reserve her cause to her eternall doome;

"Palmer," quoth he, "death is an equall doome
To good and bad, the common in of rest;
But after death the tryall is to come,
When best shall bee to them that lived best:
But both alike, when death hath both supprest,
Religious reverence doth burial teene;
Which whoso wants, wants so much of his rest:
For-all so greet shame after death I weene,
As selfe to dyen bad, unburied bad to beene.

So both agree their bodies to engrave:
The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,
And with sad cypresse seemely it embrave;
Then, covering with a clod their closed eye,
They lay therein their corses tenderly,
And bid them sleepe in everlasting peace.
But, ere they did their utmost obsequy,
Sir Guyon more affection to increace, [leace.
Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should ay re-

The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew,
With which he cutt a lock of all their heare,
Which medling with their blood and earth he threw
Into the grave, and gan devoutly sweare;
"Such and such evil God on Guyon reare,
And worse and worse, young orphane, be thy payne,
If I, or thou, dew vengeaunce doe forbeare,
Till guiltie blood her guerdon doe obtayne!"—
So, shedding many teares, they closd the earth
agayne.

CANTO II.

Babes bloody handes may not be clensd.
The face of Golden Meane :
Her sisters, Two Extremities,
Strive her to banish cleane.

THUS when sir Guyon with his faithful guyde
Had with dew rites and dolorous lament
The end of their sad tragedie uptyde,
The litle babe up in his armes he hent;
Who with sweet pleasaunce, and bold blandishment,
Gan smyle on them, that rather ought to weepe,
As carelesse of his woe, or innocent

Of that was doen; that ruth emperced deepe
In that knightes hart, and wordes with bitter teares
did steepe:

"Ah! lucklesse babe, borne under cruell starre,
And in dead parents balefull ashes bred,
Full little weenest thou what sorrowes are
Left thee for porcion of thy livelyhed;
Poore orphane! in the wide world scattered,
As budding braunch rent from the native tree,
And throwen forth, till it be withered!
Such is the state of men! thus enter we
Into this life with woe, and end with miseree!"

Then, soft himselfe inclyning on his knee
Downe to that well, did in the water weene
(So love does loath disdainefull nicitee)
His guiltie handes from bloody gore to cleene:
He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they beene
For all his washing cleaner: still he strove;
Yet still the litle hands were bloody seene:
The which him into great amaz'ment drove,
And into diverse doubt his wavering wonder clove.

He wist not whether blott of fowle offence
Might not be purgd with water nor with bath;
Or that high God, in lieu of innocence,
Imprinted had that token of his wrath,
To shew how sore bloodguiltinesse he hat'th;
Or that the charine and veneme, which they dronck,
Their blood with secret filth infected hath,
Being diffused through the senceless tronck
That, through the great contagion, direful deadly
stonck.

Whom thus at gaze the palmer gan to bord
With goodly reason, and thus fayre bespake;
"Ye bene right hard amated, gratious lord,
And of your ignorance great merveill make,
Whiles cause not well conceived ye mistake.
But know, that secret vertues are infusd
In every fountaine, and in everie lake,
Which, who bath skill them rightly to have chusd,
To proofe of passing wonders hath full often usd :
"Of those, some were so from their sourse indewd
By great dame Nature, from whose fruitfull pap
Their welbeads spring, and are with moisture deawd;
Which feeds each living plant with liquid sap,
And filles with flowres fayre Floraes painted lap:
But other some, by guifte of later grace,
Or by good prayers, or by other hap,
Had vertue pourd into their waters bace,
And thenceforth were renowmd, and sought from
place to place.

"Such is this well, wrought by occasion straunge,
Which to her nymph befell. Upon a day,
As she the woodes with bow and shaftes did raunge,
The hartlesse hynd and roebucke to dismay,
Dan Faunus chaunst to meet her by the way,
And, kindling fire at her faire-burning eye,
Inflamed was to follow beauties chace,
And chaced her, that fast from him did fly;
As hynd from her, so she fled from her enimy.

"At last, when fayling breath began to faint,
And saw no meanes to scape; of shame affrayd,
She set her downe to weepe for sore constraint;
And, to Diana calling lowd for ayde,

Her deare besought to let her die a mayd.
The goddesse heard; and suddeine, where she sate
Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd
With stony feare of that rude rustick mate,
Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins state.

1

"Lo! now she is that stone; from whose two heads,
As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,
Yet colde through feare and old conceived dreads;
And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,
Shapt like a maide, that such ye may her know;
And yet her vertues in her water byde:
For it is chaste and pure as purest snow,
Ne lets her waves with any filth be dyde;
But ever, like herselfe, unstayned hath beene tryde.
"From thence it comes, that this babes bloody
May not be clensd with water of this well: [hand
Ne certes, sir, strive you it to withstand,
But let them still be bloody, as befell,
That they his mothers innocence may tell,
As she bequeathd in her last testament;
That, as a sacred symbole, it may dwell
In her sonnes flesh, to mind revengement,
And be for all chaste dames an endlesse moniment,

He hearkned to his reason; and the childe
Uptaking, to the palmer gave to beare;
But his sad fathers armes with blood defilde,
An heavie load, himselfe did lightly reare;
And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie steed with golden sell
And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare;
By other accident, that earst befell,

He is convaide; but how, or where, here fits not tell.

Which when sir Guyon saw, all were he wroth,
Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease,
And fairely fare on foot, however loth:
His double burden did him sore disease.
So, long they traveiled with litle ease,
Till that at last they to a castle came,
Built on a rocke adioyning to the seas:
It was an auncient worke of antique fame,
And wondrous strong by nature and by skilfull frame.

Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort,
The children of one syre by mothers three;
Who, dying whylome, did divide this fort
To them by equall shares in equall fee:
But stryfull mind and diverse qualitee
Drew them in partes, and each made others foe:
Still did they strive and daily disagree;
The eldest did against the youngest goe,

And both against the middest meant to worken woe.

Where when the knight arriv'd, he was right well
Receiv'd, as knight of so much worth became,
Of second sister, who did far excell
The other two; Medina was her name,
A sober, sad, and comely courteous dame:
Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize,
In goodly garments that her well became,
Fayre marching forth in honorable wize,
Him at the threshold mett and well did enterprize.

She led him up into a goodly bowre,
And comely courted with meet modestie;
Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour,
Was lightnesse seene or looser vanitie,
But gratious womanhood, and gravitie,
Above the reason of her youthly yeares:
Her golden lockes she roundly did uptye
In breaded tramels, that no looser heares
Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame
Seemely to entertaine her new-come guest,
Newes hereof to her other sisters came,
Who all this while were at their wanton rest,
Accourting each her frend with lavish fest:
They were two knights of perelesse puissance,
And famous far abroad for warlike gest,
Which to these ladies love did countenaunce,
And to his mistresse each himselfe strove to ad-

vaunce.

He, that made love unto the eldest dame, Was hight sir Huddibras, an hardy man; Yet not so good of deedes as great of name, Which he by many rash adventures wan, Since errant armes to sew he first began.

But he, that lov'd the youngest, was Sansloy;
He, that faire Una late fowle outraged,
The most unruly and the boldest boy
That ever warlike weapons menaged,
And all to lawlesse lust encouraged
Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might;
Ne ought he car'd whom he endamaged
By tortious wrong, or whom bereav'd of right;
He, now this ladies champion, chose for love to fight.

These two gay knights, vowd to so diverse loves,
Each other does envy with deadly hate,
And daily warre against his foeman moves,
In hope to win more favour with his mate,
And th' others pleasing service to abate,
To magnifie his owne. But when they heard
How in that place straunge knight arrived late,
Both knights and ladies forth right angry far'd,
And fercely unto battell sterne themselves prepar❜d.

But, ere they could proceede unto the place
Where he abode, themselves at discord fell,
And cruell combat ioyned in middle space:
With horrible assault, and fury fell,
They heapt huge strokes the scorned life to quell,
That all on uprore from her settled seat
The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell;
Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great
Did rend the ratling skies with flames of fouldring
heat.

The noyse thereof cald forth that straunger knight,
To weet what dreadfull thing was there in hond;
Where whenas two brave knightes in bloody fight
With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,

His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,
And shyning blade unsheathd, with which he ran
Unto that stead, their strife to understond;
And, at his first arrivall, them began
With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.

But they, him spying, both with greedy forse
Attonce upon him ran, and him beset
With strokes of mortall steele without remorse,
And on his shield like yron sledges bet.
As when a beare and tygre, being met
In cruell fight on Lybicke ocean wide,
Espye a traveiler with feet surbet,
Whom they in equall pray hope to divide,
They stint their strife, and him assayle on everie side.

But he, not like a weary traveilere,
Their sharp assault right boldly did rebut,
And suffred not their blowes to byte him nere,
But with redoubled buffes them backe did put :
Whose grieved mindes, which choler did englut,
Against themselves turning their wrathfull spight,
Gan with new rage their shieldes to hew and cut.
But still, when Guyon came to part their fight,
With heavie load on him they freshly gan to smight.

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas,
Whom raging windes, threatning to make the pray
Of the rough rockes, doe diversly disease,
Meetes two contrárie billowes by the way,
That her on either side doe sore assay,
And boast to swallow her in greedy/grave; [way,

And reason with foole-bardize over-ran;
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas;

And was, for terrour more, all armd in shyning bras.

And, with her brest breaking the fomy wave,

Does ride on both their backs, and faire herself

doth save: