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Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.
Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse,
That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t'unworthie wretchednesse
Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind:
I, whether lately through her3 brightnes blynd,
Or through alleageance and fast fealty, Which I do owe unto all womankynd, Feele my hart perst with so great agony, As one then in a dreame, whose dryer When such I see, that all for pitty I could braine
370 But his waste wordes retournd to him in vaine:
So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.
Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,
Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.
Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.
From CANTO III
And pointing forth, "Lo! yonder is," (said she)
And on the top of all I do espye
That, O my Parents! might I happily. Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery!"
With that they heard a roaring hideous
That all the ayre with terror filled wyde,
"The brasen towre, in which my parents
Whom I from far see on the walles ap
The god of warre with his fiers equipage
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so
Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side
He rousd himselfe full blyth, and hastned them untill.
O gently come into my feeble brest;
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest
And hartes of great heroës doest enrage,
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to
And scared nations doest with horror
Fayre goddesse, lay that furious fitt
Till I of warres and bloody Mars doe sing,
Twixt that great Faery Queene and
That with their horror heven and earth
A worke of labour long, and endlesse
And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,
By this the dreadful Beast drew nigh to
That with his largenesse measured much
Whose wreathed boughtes1 when ever he unfoldes,
And made wide shadow under his huge And thick entangled knots adown does waste,
slack, Bespotted as with shieldes of red and blacke,
As mountaine doth the valley overcaste.
It sweepeth all the land behind him farre,
Was swoln with wrath and poyson, and