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Enforst to seek some cover nigh at hand,
A shady grove not far away they spied,
That promised aid the tempest to withstand;
Whose lofty trees, yclad with summer's pride.
Did spread so broad, that heaven's light did hide,
Not pierceable with power of any star:
And all within were paths and alleys wide,
With footing worn, and leading inward far.
Fair harbour that them seems, so in they entered are.
And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,
Joying to hear the birds' sweet harmony,
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dread,
Seemed in their song to scorn the cruel sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,
The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,
The builder Oak, sole king of forests all,
The Aspin good for staves, the Cypress funeral.
The Laurel, meed of mighty conquerors
And poets sage, the Fir that weepeth still,
The Willow worn of forlorn paramours,
The Yew obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shafts, the Sallow for the mill,
The Myrrh sweet bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Plantain round,
The carver Holme, the Maple seldom inward sound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
But wander to and fro in ways unknown.
The Ministry Of Angels.
AND is there care in heaven? And is there love
How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
The Bower Of Bliss.
EFTSOONES they heard a most melodious sound
Right hard it was for wight which did it hear,
To read what manner music that might be;
For all that pleasing is to living ear,
Was there consorted in one harmony;
Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all agree.
The joyous birds, shrouded in cheerful shade,
The Faerie Queen, Book II.
WAKE now, my love, awake! for it is time;
Ah! my dear love, why do ye sleep thus long,
My love is now awake out of her dreams,
And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were
With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams,
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear.
Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight,
Help quickly her to dight,
But first come ye fair hours, which were begot,
In Jove's sweet paradise of Day and Night;
Which do the seasons of the year allot,
And all that ever in this world is fair,
Do make and still repair.
And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian Queen
The which do still adorn her beauty's pride,
Help to adorn my beautifullest bride:
And as ye her array, still throw between
Some graces to be seen;
And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,
The whiles the woods shall answer and your echo ring.
Lo! where she comes along with portly pace,
Like Phoebe, from her chamber in the East,
Arising forth to run her mighty race,
Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.
So well it her beseems, that ye would ween
Some angel she had been.
Her long loose yellow locks like golden wire,
Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers between,
Do like a golden mantle her attire.
And, being crowned with a garland green,
Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes abashed to behold,
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixed are;
Nor dare lift up her countenance too bold,
But blush to hear her praises sung so loud,
So far from being proud.