Helpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine,
Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,
Lay forth out of thine euerlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,

Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,

That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:

3

And thou most dreaded impe of highest Ioue,
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant
Mart,

In loues and gentle iollities arrayd, After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

4

And with them eke, O Goddesse heauenly bright,

Mirrour of grace and Maiestie diuine,
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth

shine,

Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile, To thinke of that true glorious type of thine, The argument of mine afflicted stile :