Cant. VII.
the Faery Queene.
271
Kindled through his infernall brond of spight,Sith late with him I batteill vaine would boste,That now I weene Ioues dreaded thunder lightDoes scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghosteIn flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste.
Which when as Archimago heard, his griefeHe knew right well, and him attonce disarmd:Then searcht his secret woundes, and made a priefeOf euery place, that was with bruzing harmd,Or with the hidden fier inly warmd.Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,And euermore with mightie spels them charmd,That in short space he has them qualifyde,And him restor'd to helth, that would haue algates dyde.
Cant. VII.
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Guyon findes Mamon in a delue,sunning his threasure hore:Is by him tempted, & led downe,To see his secrete store.
As Pilot well expert in perilous waue,That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,When foggy mistes, or cloudy tempests haueThe faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,And couer'd heauen with hideous dreriment,Vpon his card and compas firmes his eye,The maysters of his long experiment,And to them does the steddy helme apply,Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly.
So
