By this the Night forth from the darksome bowre Of Herebus her teemed* steedes gan call, And laesie Vesper in his timely howre 315 From golden Oeta gan proceede withall; Whenas the shepheard after this sharpe stowre**, Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall, Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare, And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare. 320 [* _Teemed_, harnessed in a team] [** _Stowre_, perturbation] Into whose sense so soone as lighter sleepe Was entered, and now loosing everie lim, Sweete slumbring deaw in carelesnesse did steepe, The image of that Gnat appeard to him, And in sad tearmes gan sorrowfully weepe, 325 With grieslie countenaunce and visage grim, Wailing the wrong which he had done of late, In steed of good, hastning his cruell fate. Said he, “What have I wretch deserv’d, that thus Into this bitter bale I am outcast, 330 Whilest that thy life more deare and precious Was than mine owne, so long as it did last? I now, in lieu of paines so gracious, Am tost in th’ayre with everie windie blast: Thou, safe delivered from sad decay, 335 Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display. “So livest thou; but my poore wretched ghost Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river, And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost. Seest thou not how all places quake and quiver, 340 Lightned with deadly lamps on everie post? Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver Her flaming fire-brond, encountring me, Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be. “And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay, 345 And barke out flames, as if on fire he fed, Adowne whose necke, in terrible array, Ten thousand snakes, cralling about his hed, Doo hang in heapes, that horribly affray, And bloodie eyes doo glister firie red, 350 He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten With painfull torments to be sorely beaten. “Ay me! that thankes so much should faile of meed, For that I thee restor’d to life againe, Even from the doore of death and deadlie dreed. 355 Where then is now the guerdon of my paine? Where the reward of my so piteous deed? The praise of pitie vanisht is in vaine, And th’antique faith of iustice long agone Out of the land is fled away and gone. 360 “I saw anothers fate approaching fast, And left mine owne his safëtie to tender; Into the same mishap I now am cast, And shun’d destruction doth destruction render: Not unto him that never hath trespást, 365 But punishment is due to the offender: Yet let destruction be the punishment, So long as thankfull will may it relent.