But gentle Sleepe envyde him any rest;
Instead thereof sad sorow and disdaine
Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest,
And thousand Fancies bett his ydle brayne
With their light wings, the sights of semblants vaine :
Oft did he wish that Lady faire mote bee
His Faery Queene, for whom he did complaine; Or that his Faery Queene were such as shee: And ever hasty Night he blamed bitterlie :
Night! thou foule mother of annoyaunce sad,
Sister of heavie Death, and nourse of Woe,
Which wast begot in heaven, but for thy bad
And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below,
Where, by the grim floud of Cocytus slow,
Thy dwelling is in Herebus black hous,
(Black Herebus, thy husband, is the foe
Of all the gods,) where thou ungratious
Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous;
"What had th' Eternall Maker need of thee
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all thinges deface, ne lettest see
The beautie of his worke? Indeed in sleepe
The slouthfull body that doth love to steepe
His lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe
Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind,
And great dame Natures handmaide chearing every kind.
"But well I wote that to an heavy hart
Thou art the roote and nourse of bitter cares,
Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts:
Instead of rest thou lendest rayling teares;
Instead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares
And dreadfull visions, in the which alive
The dreary image of sad Death appeares:
So from the wearie spirit thou doest drive
Desired rest, and men of happinesse deprive.
“Under thy mantle black there hidden lye
Light-shonning Thefte, and traiterous Intent,
Abhorred Bloodshed, and vile Felony,
Shamefull Deceipt, and Daunger imminent,
Fowle Horror, and eke hellish Dreriment:
All these I wote in thy protection bee,
And light doe shonne, for feare of being shent :
For light ylike is loth'd of them and thee;
And all, that lewdnesse love, doe hate the light to see.
"For Day discovers all dishonest wayes,
And sheweth each thing as it is in deed:
The prayses of High God he faire displayes,
And His large bountie rightly doth areed:
Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed
Which Darknesse shall subdue and heaven win:
Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed
Most sacred Virgin without spot of sinne:
Our life is day; but death with darknesse doth begin.
"O, when will Day then turne to me againe,
And bring with him his long-expected light!
O Titan! hast to reare thy ioyous waine;
Speed thee to spred abroad thy beamës bright,
And chace away this too long lingring Night;
Chace her away, from whence she came, to hell:
She, she it is, that hath me done despight:
There let her with the damned spirits dwell,
And yield her rowme to Day, that can it
Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare
In restlesse anguish and unquiet paine;
And earely, ere the Morrow did
upreare
His deawy head out of the ocean maine,
He up arose, as halfe in great disdaine,
And clombe unto his steed: So forth he went
With heavy looke and lumpish pace, that plaine
In him bewraid great grudge and maltalent:
His steed eke seemd t' apply his steps to his intent.
Prince Arthur hears of Florimell:
Three fosters Timias wound;
Belphœbe findes him almost dead,
And reareth out of swownd.
WONDER it is to see in diverse mindes
How diversly Love doth his pageaunts play,
And shewes his powre in variable kindes:
The baser wit, whose ydle thoughts alway
Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay,
It stirreth up to sensuall desire,
And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day;
But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire,
That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.
Ne suffereth it uncomely Idlenesse
In his free thought to build her sluggish nest;
Ne suffereth it thought of ungentlenesse
Ever to creepe into his noble brest ;
But to the highest and the worthiest
Lifteth it up that els would lowly fall:
It lettes not fall, it lettes it not to rest;
It lettes not scarse this Prince to breath at all, But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call:
Who long time wandred through the forest wyde
To finde some issue thence; till that at last
He met a Dwarfe that seemed terrifyde
With some late perill which he hardly past,
Or other accident which him aghast;
Of whom he asked, whence he lately came,
And whether now he traveiled so fast :
For sore he swat, and, ronning through that same Thicke forest, was bescracht and both his feet nigh lame.
Panting for breath, and almost out of hart,
The Dwarfe him answerd; " Sir, ill mote I stay
To tell the same: I lately did depart
From Faery Court, where I have many a day
Served a gentle Lady of great sway
And high accompt throughout all Elfin Land,
Who lately left the same, and tooke this way:
Her now I seeke; and if ye understand
Which way she fared hath, good Sir, tell out of hand."
"What mister wight," saide he, " and how arayd?" "Royally clad," quoth he, " in cloth of gold,
As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd;
Her faire lockes in rich circlet be enrold,
A fayrer wight did never sunne behold;
And on a palfrey rydes more white then snow,
Yet she herselfe is whiter manifold;
The surest signe, whereby ye may her know,
Is, that she is the fairest wight alive, I trow."
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