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Then mounted he upon his steede againe,

And with the lady backward sought to wend:
That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,
Ne ever would to any by-way bend;

But still did follow one unto the end,

The which at last out of the wood them brought.
So forward on his way (with God to friend)
He passed forth, and new adventure sought :
Long way he traveiled, before he heard of ought.

At length they chaunst to meet upon the way
An aged sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,
His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,
And by his belt his booke he hanging had;
Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad;

And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
Simple in shew, and voide of malice bad;
And all the way he prayed, as he went,

And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.

He faire the knight saluted, louting low,
Who faire him quited, as that courteous was;
And after asked him, if he did know

Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas.
"Ah! my dear sonne," quoth he, "how should, alas!
Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell,

Bidding his beades all day for his trespás,

Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

With holy father sits not with such things to mell.

"But if of daunger, which hereby doth dwell,
And homebredd evil ye desire to heare,
Of a straunge man I can your tidings tell,
That wasteth all this countrie farre and neare."

"Of such," saide he, "I chiefly doe inquere ;
And shall thee well rewarde to shew the place,
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,

That such a cursed creature lives so long a space."

"Far hence," quoth he, " in wastfull wildernesse His dwelling is, by which no living wight May ever passe, but thorough great distresse." "Now," saide the ladie, "draweth toward night; And well I wote, that of your later fight Ye all forwearied be; for what so strong, But, wanting rest, will also want of might? The Sunne, that measures Heaven all day long, At night doth baite his steedes the ocean waves emong.

"Then with the Sunne take, sir, your timely rest, And with new day new worke at once begin; Untroubled night, they say, gives counsell best." "Right well, sir Knight, ye have advised bin." Quoth then that aged man; " the way to win Is wisely to advise: now day is spent;

Therefore with me ye may take up your in

For this same night." The knight was well content: So with that godly father to his home they went.

A litle lowly hermitage it was,

Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,
Far from resort of people, that did pas
In traveill to and froe: a litle wyde
There was an holy chappell edifyde,
Wherein the hermite dewly wont to say
His holy things each morne and eventyde:

Thereby a christall streame did gently play, Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth away.

Arrived there, the litle house they fill,

Ne looke for entertainement, where none was;
Rest is their feast, and all thinges at their will:
The noblest mind the best contentment has.
With faire discourse the evening so they pas;
For that olde man of pleasing wordes had store,
And well could file his tongue, as smooth as glas :
He told of saintes and popes, and evermore
He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before.

The drouping night thus creepeth on them fast;
And the sad humor loading their eye-liddes,
As messenger of Morpheus, on them cast [biddes.
Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleep them
Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:
Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,
He to his studie goes; and their amiddes

His magick bookes, and artes of sundrie kindes,
He seeks out mighty charmes to trouble sleepy
minds.

Then choosing out few words most horrible,
(Let none them read!) thereof did verses frame :
With which, and other spelles like terrible,
He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly dame;
And cursed Heven; and spake reprochful shame
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light.
A bold bad man! that dar'd to call by name
Great Gorgon, prince of darknes and dead night;
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight,

And forth he cald out of deepe darknes dredd
Legions of sprights, the which, like litle flyes,
Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd,
Awaite whereto their service he applyes,
To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies :
Of those he chose out two, the falsest two,
And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;
The one of them he gave a message too,
The other by himselfe staide other worke to doo.

He, making speedy way through spersed ayre,
And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.
Amid the bowels of the Earth full steepe,
And low, where dawning day doth never peepe,
His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed
Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe
In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, [spred.
Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth

Whose double gates he findeth locked fast;
The one faire fram'd of burnisht yvory,
The other all with silver overcast;

And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye,
Watching to banish Care their enimy,

Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.
By them the sprite doth passe in quietly,

And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe
In drowsie fit he findes; of nothing he takes keepe.

And, more to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe,
And ever-drizling raine upon the loft,

Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne

Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne.
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.

The messenger approching to him spake;
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.
As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine
Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence
breake.

The sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,
And threatned unto him the dreaded name
Of Hecaté: whereat he gan to quake,
And, lifting up his lompish head, with blame
Halfe angrie asked him, for what he came.
"Hether," quoth he, “ me Archimago sent,
He that the stubborne sprites can wisely tame,
He bids thee to him send for his intent

A fit false Dreame, that can elude the sleepers sent."

The god obayde; and, calling forth straight way
A diverse dreame out of his prison darke,
Delivered it to him, and downe did lay
His heavie head, devoide of careful carke;
Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.
He, backe returning by the yvorie dore,

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