Thus then I slept, tyl that Auroras bemes Gan for to spreade about the firmament, And the clere sunne with his golden stremes Began for to ryse fayre in the orient, Without Saturnus blacke encombrement, And the litle byrdes makyng melodye Did me awake wyth their swete armony. I loked about, and sawe a craggy roche Farre in the west, neare to the element; And as I dyd then unto it approche, Upon the toppe I sawe refulgent The royall tower of Morall Document, Made of fine copper, with turrettes fayre and hye, Which against Phebus shone so marveylously; That for the very perfect bryghtnes, What of the tower and of the cleare sunne, I coulde nothyng beholde the goodlines Of that palaice where as Doctrine did wonne; Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne, The radiant bryghtnes of golden Phebus Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus. Then to the tower I drewe nere and nere, And often mused of the great hyghnes Of the craggy rocke, whiche quadrant did appeare; But the fayre tower so muche of ryches Was all about sexangled doubtles, Gargeyld with grayhoundes and with many lyons, Made of fyne golde, with divers sundry dragons. The little turrets with ymages of golde About was set, whiche with the wynde aye moved. Wyth propre vices that I did well beholde, About the towers in sundry wyse they hoved, Wyth goodly pypes in their mouthes i-tuned, That with the wynde they pyped a daunce, I-clipped Amour de la hault plesaunce. CAP. IV. HOWE HE WAS LET IN BY COUNTENAUNCE THE PORTERES, AND OF THE MARVELOUS BUILDYNG OF THE SAME TOWER. The toure was great, and of marvelous wydnes, To whyche there was no way to passe but one, Into the toure for to have an intres; A grece there was, y-chesyled all of stone Out of the rocke, on whiche men dyd gone Up to the toure; and in lykewise did I, Wyth bothe the greyhoundes in my company. Tyll that I came to a ryall gate, Where I sawe stondynge the goodly portres, Whiche axed me from whence I came alate? To whome I gan in every thynge expresse All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse, And eke my name I tolde her every dell. When she herde this, she lyked me ryght well. Her name, she sayd, was called Countenaunce: Into the besy courte she dyd me then lede, Where was a fountayne depured of pleasance, A noble sprynge, a ryall conduyte hede, Made of fyne golde enameled with reed, And on the toppe foure dragons blewe, and stoute Thys dulcet water in foure partyes dyd spout. Of whyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere, Sweter than Nysus or Ganges was theyr odoure, Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere. I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Fragraunt of fume, swete as any floure. And in my mouthe it had a marveylous cent Of divers spyces; I knewe not what it ment.