I love to muse me o'er the evening

hearth,

Like thee, within mine influence, all to cheer;

I fear no care for gold,

Well-doing is my wealth; My mind to me an empire is, While grace affordeth health.

I clip high-climbing thoughts,
The wings of swelling pride;
Their fall is worst that from the height
Of greatest honor slide.

Since sails of largest size

The storm doth soonest tear, I bear so low and small a sail As freeth me from fear.

I wrestle not with rage

While fury's flame doth burn;

It is in vain to stop the stream Until the tide doth turn.

But when the flame is out,
And ebbing wrath doth end,
I turn a late enragèd foe
Into a quiet friend.

And, taught with often proof,
A tempered calm I find
To be most solace to itself,
Best cure for angry mind.

Spare diet is my fare,

My clothes more fit than fine I know I feed and clothe a foe, That pampered would repine.

I envy not their hap

Whom favor doth advance;
I take no pleasure in their pain
That have less happy chance.
To rise by others' fall

I deem a losing gain;
All states with others' ruin built
To ruin run amain.

No change of Fortune's calm

Can cast my comforts down: When Fortune smiles, I smile to think How quickly she will frown.

And when, in froward mood,

She proved an angry foe,

Small gain, I found, to let her come – Less loss to let her go.

Let all the virgins therefore well await;

And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom,

Prepare yourselves, for he is coming straight.

Set all your things in seemly good array,

Fit for so joyful day:

The joyfull'st day that ever sun did

see.

Fair sun! show forth thy favorable ray,

And let thy lifeful heat not fervent be,
For fear of burning her sunshiny face.
Her beauty to disgrace.

O fairest Phoebus! father of the Muse!
If ever I did honor thee aright,
Or sing the thing that might thy
mind delight,

Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse,

But let this day, let this one day be mine;

Let all the rest be thine.

Then I thy sovereign praises loud will sing,

That all the woods shall answer, and their echo ring.

Lo! where she comes along with portly pace,

Like Phoebe, from her chamber of the east,

Arising forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.

So well it her beseems, that ye would

ween

Some angel she had been.

Her long loose yellow locks; like golden wire

Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween,

Do like a golden mantle her attire; And being crowned with a garland green,

Seem like some maiden queen.
Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold
So many gazers as on her do stare,
Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;
Ne dare lift up her countenance too
bold,

But blush to hear her praises sung so loud,

So far from being proud. Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing,

That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as

she, Adorned with beauty's grace and virtue's store;

Her goodly eyes like sapphires shining bright,

Her forehead ivory white,

Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath ruddied,

Her lips like cherries charming men to bite,

Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded.

Why stand ye still, ye virgins in

amaze,

Upon her so to gaze,

[From The Faerie Queene.] THE CAPTIVE SOUL.

WHAT war so cruel, or what siege so

sore,

As that which strong affections do apply

Against the fort of Reason evermore, To bring the soul into captivity? Their force is fiercer through infirmity

Of the frail flesh, relenting to their

rage;

And exercise most bitter tyranny Upon the parts brought into their bondage;

throne,

And giveth laws alone,

The which the base affections do obey, And yield their services unto her will:

Ne thought of things uncomely ever

may

Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill.

Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures,

And unrevealed pleasures,

Then would ye wonder and her praises sing,

That all the woods would answer, and your echo ring.

And

yplaced,

threadbare coat and cobbled shoes he ware;

Ne scarce good morsel all his life did taste;

But both from back and belly still did spare,

To fill his bags, and riches to compare;

Yet child nor kinsman living had he

none

To leave them to; but thorough daily

care

To get, and nightly fear to lose, his own,

He led a wretched life unto himself unknown.

more nigh,

His bloody rage assuaged with re

morse,

And, with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force.

rest:

His office was to give entertainment And lodging unto all that came and went;

Not unto such as could him feast again,

And double quite for that he on them

spent;

strain:

weet,

Oh, how can beauty master the most strong,

And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!

Whose yielded pride and proud submission,

Still dreading death, when she had marked long,

entertain.

cared to hoard for those whom

he did breed:

affection.

[From The Faerie Queene.]

A HOSPITAL.

EFTSOONES unto an holy hospital, That was foreby the way, she did him bring;

In which seven Bead-men, that had vowed all

store,

more,

That by the weary way were travelling;

And one sat waiting ever them before,

To call in comers by, that needy were and poor.

The first of them, that eldest was and best,

Of all the house had charge and government,

which were not rich tires, nor garments gay,

plumes of pride and wings of vanity,

clothes meet to keep keen cold away,

And naked nature seemly to array; With which bare wretched wights he daily clad,

The images of God in earthly clay; if that no spare clothes to give he had,

And

His

own coat he would cut, and it distribute glad.

The fourth appointed by his office

was

Poor prisoners to relieve with gra cious aid,