And now they nigh approched to the sted, xxx Where as those Mermayds dwelt: it was a still And calmy bay, on th’one side sheltered With the brode shadow of an hoarie hill, On th’other side an high rocke toured still, That twixt them both a pleasaunt[839] port they made, And did like an halfe Theatre fulfill: There those fine sisters had continuall trade, And vsd to bath[840] themselues in that deceiptfull[841] shade. They were faire Ladies, till they fondly striu’d xxxi With th’_Heliconian_ maides for maistery; Of whom they ouer-comen, were depriu’d Of their proud beautie, and th’one moyity Transform’d to fish, for their bold surquedry, But th’vpper halfe their hew retained still, And their sweet skill in wonted melody; Which euer after they abusd to ill, T’allure weake trauellers, whom gotten they did kill. So now to _Guyon_, as he passed by, xxxii Their pleasaunt tunes they sweetly thus applide; O thou faire sonne of gentle Faery, That[842] art in mighty armes most magnifide Aboue all knights, that euer battell tride, O turne thy rudder hither-ward a while: Here may thy storme-bet vessell safely ride; This is the Port of rest from troublous toyle, The worlds sweet In, from paine and wearisome turmoyle. With that the rolling sea resounding soft, xxxiii In his big base them fitly answered, And on the rocke the waues breaking aloft, A solemne Meane vnto them measured, The whiles sweet _Zephirus_ lowd whisteled His treble, a straunge kinde of harmony; Which _Guyons_ senses softly tickeled, That he the boateman bad row easily, And let him heare some part of their rare melody. But him the[843] Palmer from that vanity, xxxiv With temperate aduice discounselled, That they it past, and shortly gan descry The land, to which their course they leueled; When suddeinly a grosse fog ouer spred With his dull vapour all that desert has, And heauens chearefull face enueloped, That all things one, and one as nothing was, And this great Vniuerse seemd one confused mas. Thereat they greatly were dismayd, ne wist xxxv How to direct their way in darkenesse wide, But feard to wander in that wastfull mist, For tombling into mischiefe vnespide. Worse is the daunger hidden, then descride. Suddeinly an innumerable flight Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering, cride, And with their wicked wings them oft did smight, And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly night.