Like as a huntsman after weary chace, Seeing the game from him escaped away, Sits down to rest him in some shady place, With panting hounds beguilèd of their prey; So after long pursuit and vain assay, 5 When I all weary had the chace forsook, The gentle deer returned the self-same way, Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook; There she beholding me with milder look, Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide, 10 Till I in hand her yet half trembling took, And with her own good-will her firmly tied; Strange thing meseemed to see a beast so wild So goodly won, with her own will beguiled. _Edmund Spenser._ XVIII _A VISION UPON THE FAIRY QUEEN._ Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that temple where the vestal flame Was wont to burn; and passing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept, 5 All suddenly I saw The Fairy Queen: At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept; And from thenceforth those Graces were not seen, For they this Queen attended; in whose stead Oblivion laid him down on Laura’s hearse. 10 Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed, And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce, Where Homer’s spright did tremble all for grief, And cursed the access of that celestial thief. _Sir Walter Raleigh._ XIX _THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE._ Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, [or] hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountains yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, 5 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, 10 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-linèd slippers for the cold, 15 With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. 20 Thy silver dishes for thy meat, As precious as the gods do eat, Shall, on an ivory table, be Prepared each day for thee and me. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 25 For thy delight each May-morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Come live with me, and be my love. _Christopher Marlowe._ XX _THE ANSWER._