Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd auayle, lii Ne slake the furie of her cruell flame, But that she still did waste, and still did wayle, That through long languour, and hart-burning brame She shortly like a pyned ghost became, Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond. That when old _Glauce_ saw, for feare least blame Of her miscarriage should in her be fond, She wist not how t’amend, nor how it to withstond. FOOTNOTES: [882] ii 2 wemen _1590_ [883] 7 away: _1596_ [884] iv 1 _Guyon_] _Redcrosse_ _MS. corr. in Malone 615_ [885] vii 8 from _1609_ [886] viii 5 Which to proue, I _1590_ [887] xii 3 strife-full _1609_ [888] xvi 9 part] point _1609_ [889] xxiv 2 complet _1596_, _1609_ [890] xxviii 6 there of _1596_ [891] xxx 5 her in her warme bed _1590_ [892] xxxii 3 forbeares _1596_ [893] xxxvi 1 other _1590_ [894] xxxvii 9 launced _1609_ [895] xli 2 Not _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._ [896] xlii 7 alablasted _1596_ [897] xliii 3 nought] not _1609_ [898] xliv i mind] mine _1609_ [899] xlvi 6 master _1609_ [900] xlix 6 _Camphara_ _1596_, _1609_ [901] 7 a] an _1609_ [902] l 2 Them] Then _1590_: _corr. F. E._ [903] braided _1609_ _Cant. III._ [Illustration: _Merlin bewrayes to Britomart, the state of Artegall[904]. And shewes the famous Progeny which from them springen shall._ ] Most[905] sacred fire, that burnest mightily i In liuing brests, ykindled first aboue, Emongst th’eternall spheres and lamping sky, And thence pourd into men, which men call Loue; Not that same, which doth base affections moue In brutish minds, and filthy lust inflame, But that sweet fit, that doth true beautie loue, And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame, Whence spring all noble deeds and neuer dying fame: Well did Antiquitie a God thee deeme, ii That ouer mortall minds hast so great might, To order them, as best to thee doth seeme, And all their actions to direct aright; The fatall purpose of diuine foresight, Thou doest effect in destined descents, Through deepe impression of thy secret might, And stirredst vp th’Heroes high intents, Which the late world admyres for wondrous moniments. But thy dread darts in none doe triumph more, iii Ne brauer proofe in any, of thy powre Shew’dst thou, then in this royall Maid of yore, Making her seeke an vnknowne Paramoure, From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre: From whose two loynes thou afterwards did rayse Most famous fruits of matrimoniall bowre, Which through the earth haue spred their liuing prayse, That fame in trompe of gold eternally displayes.