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And sooth, it seemes, they say; for he may not
For ever dye, and ever buried bee

In balefull night where all thinges are forgot:
All be he subject to mortalitie,
Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,

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And by succession made perpetuall, Transformed oft, and chaunged diverslie; For him the Father of all formes they call: Therfore needs mote he live, that living gives to all. There now he liveth in eternall blis,

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Joying his goddesse, and of her enjoyd;
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,
Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:
For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,
She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,

That her sweet love his malice mote avoyd,

In a strong rocky Cave, which is, they say, [may. Hewen underneath that Mount, that none him Josen

There now he lives in everlasting joy,
With many of the Gods in company

Which thether haunt, and with the winged boy,
Sporting him selfe in safe felicity:

Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty
Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts
Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,
Thether resortes, and, laying his sad dartes
Asyde, with faire Adonis playes his wanton partes.

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And his trew love faire Psyche with him playes, 50
Fayre Psyche to him lately reconcyld,

After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes,
With which his mother Venus her revyld,
And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:
But now in stedfast love and happy state
She with him lives, and hath him borne a chyld,
Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,
Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late.

Hether great Venus brought this infant fayre,
The yonger daughter of Chrysogonee,
And unto Psyche with great trust and care
Committed her, yfostered to bee

And trained up in trew feminitee:
Who no lesse carefully her tendered

Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee
Made her companion, and her lessoned
In all the lore of love, and goodly womanhead.

In which when she to perfect ripenes grew,
Of grace and beautie noble Paragone,
She brought her forth into the worldes vew,
To be th' ensample of true love alone,
And Lodestarre of all chaste affection
To all fayre Ladies that doe live on grownd.
To Faery court she came; where many one
Admyrd her goodly haveour, and fownd

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His feeble hart wide launched with loves cruel wownd.

But she to none of them her love did cast,
Save to the noble knight Sir Scudamore,
To whom her loving hart she linked fast
In faithfull love, t' abide for evermore;
And for his dearest sake endured sore
Sore trouble of an hainous enimy,

As

Who her would forced have to have forlore
Her former love and stedfast loialty,

ye may elswhere reade that ruefull history.

But well I weene, ye first desire to learne

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What end unto that fearefull Damozell,

Which fledd so fast from that same foster stearne Whom with his brethren Timias slew, befell :

That was, to weet, the goodly Florimell;
Who wandring for to seeke her lover deare,
Her lover deare, her dearest Marinell,

Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,

And from Prince Arthure fled with wings of idle feare.

CANTO VII.

The witches sonne loves Florimell:
She pyes; he faines to dy.
Satyrane saves the Squyre of Dames
From Gyaunts tyranny.

IKE as an Hynd forth singled from the heard,

That hath escaped from a ravenous beast, Yet flyes away of her owne feete afeard, And every leafe, that shaketh with the least Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast; So fledd fayre Florimell from her vaine feare, Long after she from perill was releast:

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Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did heare, Did seeme to be the same which she escapt whileare. All that same evening she in flying spent, And all that night her course continewed; Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent, Nor wearinesse to slack her hast, but fled Ever alike, as if her former dred

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Were hard behind, her ready to arrest; And her white Palfrey, having conquered The maistring raines out of her weary wrest, Perforce her carried where ever he thought best. So long as breath and hable puissaunce Did native corage unto him supply, His pace he freshly forward did advaunce, And carried her beyond all jeopardy; But nought that wanteth rest can long aby: He, having through incessant traveill spent His force, at last perforce adowne did ly, Ne foot could further move. The Lady gent Thereat was suddein strook with great astonishment;

And, forst t' alight, on foot mote algates fare
A traveiler unwonted to such way:

Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare,
That fortune all in equall launce doth sway,
And mortall miseries doth make her play.
So long she traveild, till at length she came
To an hilles side, which did to her bewray
A litle valley subject to the same,

All coverd with thick woodes that quite it overcame.

Through the tops of the high trees she did descry 5 A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light Reeking aloft uprolled to the sky:

Which chearefull signe did send unto her sight That in the same did wonne some living wight. Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyd, And came at last in weary wretched plight Unto the place, to which her hope did guyde, To finde some refuge there, and rest her wearie syde.

There in a gloomy hollow glen she found

A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes
In homely wize, and wald with sods around;
In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes
And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes;
So choosing solitarie to abide

Far from all neighbours, that her divelish deedes And hellish arts from people she might hide, And hurt far off unknowne whom ever she envide.

The Damzell there arriving entred in ;

Where sitting on the flore the Hag she found
Busie (as seem'd) about some wicked gin:
Who, soone as she beheld that suddein stound,
Lightly upstarted from the dustie ground,
And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze
Stared on her awhile, as one astound,

Ne had one word to speake for great amaze,

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But shewd by outward signes that dread her sence did daze.

At last, turning her feare to foolish wrath,

She askt, what devill had her thether brought,
And who she was, and what unwonted path
Had guided her, unwelcomed, unsought?
To which the Damzell, full of doubtfull thought,
Her mildly answer'd: "Beldame, be not wroth
With silly Virgin, by adventure brought
Unto your dwelling, ignorant and loth,

That crave but rowme to rest while tempest overblo'th."

With that adowne out of her christall eyne

Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall, That like to orient perles did purely shyne Upon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall She sighed soft, that none so bestiall Nor salvage hart, but ruth of her sad plight Would make to melt, or pitteously appall; And that vile Hag, all were her whole delight In mischiefe, was much moved at so pitteous sight;

And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse,

With womanish compassion of her plaint,
Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes,
And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint
And wearie limbs awhile. She, nothing quaint
Nor 'sdeignfull of so homely fashion,

Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint
Sate downe upon the dusty ground anon;
As glad of that small rest as Bird of tempest gon.

Tho gan she gather up her garments rent,

And her loose lockes to dight in order dew
With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament;
Whom such whenas the wicked Hag did vew,
She was astonisht at her heavenly hew,
And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,
But or some Goddesse, or of Dianes crew,
And thought her to adore with humble spright:
Tadore thing so divine as beauty were but right.

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