Cant. III.
the Faery Queene:
229
So when her goodly visage he beheld,He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewdThose deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,Soone into other fitts he was transmewd,Till she to him her gracious speach renewd;All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,As all the like, which honor haue pursewdThrough deeds of armes and prowesse martiall;All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.
To whom he thus, O fairest vnder skie,Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.Therein I haue spent all my youthly daies,And many battailes fought, and many fraiesThroughout the world, wher so they might be foūd,Endeuoring my dreaded name to raiseAboue the Moone, that fame may it resoundIn her eternall tromp, with laurell girlond cround.
But what art thou, O Lady, which doest raungeIn this wilde forest, where no pleasure is,And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,Emongst thine equall peres, where happy blisAnd all delight does raigne, much more then this?There thou maist loue, and dearly loued be,And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fitt for thee.
Who so in pompe of prowd estate (qd. she)Does swim, and bathes him selfe in courtly blis,Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,And in obliuion euer buried is:
Where
