Ioy may you haue, and euerlasting fame, xxxii Of late most hard atchieu’ment by you donne, For which enrolled is your glorious name In heauenly Registers aboue the Sunne, Where you a Saint with Saints your seat haue wonne: But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke, Must[463] now anew begin, like race to runne; God guide thee, _Guyon_, well to end thy warke, And to the wished hauen bring thy weary barke. Palmer, (him answered the _Redcrosse_ knight) xxxiii His be the praise, that this atchieu’ment wrought, Who made my hand the organ of his might; More then goodwill to me attribute nought: For all I did, I did but as I ought. But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensewes, Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought, That home ye may report thrise[464] happie newes; For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes. So courteous conge both did giue and take, xxxiv With right hands plighted, pledges of good will. Then _Guyon_ forward gan his voyage make, With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still. Still he him guided ouer dale and hill, And with his steedie[465] staffe did point his way: His race with reason, and with words his will, From foule intemperance he oft did stay, And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray. In this faire wize they traueild long yfere, xxxv Through many hard assayes, which did betide; Of which he honour still away did beare, And spred his glorie through all countries wide. At last as chaunst them by a forest side To passe, for succour from the scorching ray, They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride With percing shriekes, and many a dolefull lay; Which to attend, a while their forward steps they stay. But if that carelesse heauens (quoth she) despise xxxvi The doome of iust reuenge, and take delight To see sad pageants of mens miseries, As bound by them to liue in liues[466] despight, Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight. Come then, come soone, come sweetest death to mee, And take away this long lent loathed light: Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweet the medicines bee, That long captiued soules from wearie thraldome free. But thou, sweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate xxxvii Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall, Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing state, Long maist thou liue, and better thriue withall, Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall: Liue thou, and to thy mother dead attest, That cleare she dide from blemish criminall; Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to rest.