THE FAERIE QUEENE by Edmund Spenser TO The ... - Planet.ee

www.TaleBooks.comHis feeble feet directed to the cry;Which to that shady delve him brought at last,Where Mammon earst did sunne his threasury;There the good Guyon he found slumbring fastIn senceles dreame; which sight at first him sore aghast.V. Beside his head there satt a faire young man,Of wondrous beauty and of freshest yeares,Whose tender bud to blossome new began,And florish faire above his equall peares:His snowy front, curled with golden heares,Like Phoebus face adornd with sunny rayes,Divinely shone; and two sharpe winged sheares,Decked with diverse plumes, like painted Jayes,Were fixed at his backe to cut his ayery wayes,VI. Like as Cupido on Idaean hill,When having laid his cruell bow awayAnd mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fillThe world with murdrous spoiles and bloody pray,With his faire mother he him dights to play,And with his goodly sisters, Graces three:The Goddesse, pleased with his wanton play,Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to bee,The whiles the other Ladies mind theyr mery glee.VII. Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he wasThrough fear and wonder that he nought could say,Till him the childe bespoke; "Long lackt, alas!Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay,Whiles deadly fitt thy pupill doth dismay.Behold this heavy sight, thou reverend Sire!But dread of death and dolor doe away;For life ere long shall to her home retire,And he that breathlesse seems shal corage both respire.VIII. "The charge, which God doth unto me arrett,Of his deare safety, I to thee commend;Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forgettThe care thereof my selfe unto the end,But evermore him succour, and defendAgainst his foe and mine: watch thou, I pray,For evill is at hand him to offend."So having said, eftsoones he gan displayHis painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away.IX. The Palmer seeing his lefte empty place,And his slow eies beguiled of their sight,Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a spaceGaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight.At last, him turning to his charge behight,With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan try;Where finding life not yet dislodged quight,He much rejoyst, and courd it tenderly,Page 198 , Faerie Queene, The - Edmund Spenser