And yet as ghastly dreadfull, as it seemes, Bold men, presuming life for gaine to sell, Dare tempt that gulf, and in those wandring stremes Seek waies unknowne, waies leading down to hell. For, as we stood there waiting on the strond, Behold! an huge great vessell to us came, Dauncing upon the waters back to lond, As if it scornd the daunger of the same; Yet was it but a wooden frame and fraile, Glewed togither with some subtile matter. Yet had it armes and wings, and head and taile, And life to move it selfe upon the water. Strange thing! how bold and swift the monster was, That neither car'd for wind, nor haile, nor raine, Nor swelling waves, but thorough them did passe So proudly, that she made them roare againe. The same aboord us gently did receave, And without harme us farre away did beare, So farre that land, our mother, us did leave, And nought but sea and heaven to us appeare. Then hartlesse quite, and full of inward feare, That shepheard I besought to me to tell, Under what skie, or in what world we were, In which I saw no living people dwell. Who, me recomforting all that he might, Told me that that same was the Regiment Of a great Shepheardesse, that Cynthia hight, His liege, his Ladie, and his lifes Regent. This is the poetical version of Ralegh's appreciation of the treasure which he had lighted on in Ireland, and of what he did to make it known to the admiration and delight of England. He returned to the Court, and Spenser with him. Again, for what reason we know not, he was received into favour. The poet, who accompanied him, was brought to the presence of the lady, who saw herself in "various mirrors,"--Cynthia, Gloriana, Belphoebe, as she heard him read portions of the great poem which was to add a new glory to her reign. "The Shepheard of the Ocean (quoth he) Unto that Goddesse grace me first enhanced, And to mine oaten pipe enclin'd her eare, That she thenceforth therein gan take delight; And it desir'd at timely houres to heare, All were my notes but rude and roughly dight; For not by measure of her owne great mynde, And wondrous worth, she mott my simple song, But joyd that country shepheard ought could fynd Worth harkening to, emongst the learned throng." He had already too well caught the trick of flattery--flattery in a degree almost inconceivable to us--which the fashions of the time, and the Queen's strange self-deceit, exacted from the loyalty and enthusiasm of Englishmen. In that art Ralegh was only too apt a teacher. Colin Clout, in his story of his recollections of the Court, lets us see how he was taught to think and to speak there:--