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Now, strike your sailes, yee iolly mariners,
For we be come unto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers,
And light this weary vessell of her lode,
Here she a while may make her safe abode,
Till she repaired have her tackles spent,
And wants supplide; and then againe abroad
On the long voiage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede, and fairely finish her intent!

THE SECOND BOOK OF

THE FAERIE QUEENE,

CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON, OR OF

TEMPERAUNCE.

RIGHT well I wote, most mighty soveraine,
That all this famous ántique history

Of some th' aboundance of an ydle braine
Will judged be, and painted forgery,
Rather than matter of iust memory;
Sith none that breatheth living aire doth know
Where is that happy land of Faëry,

Which I so much doe vaunt, yet no where show;
But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.

But let that man with better sence advize,
That of the world least part to us is red;
And daily how through hardy enterprize
Many great regions are discovered,
Which to late age were never mentioned.
Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru?
Or who in venturous vessell measured
The Amazon huge river, now found trew?
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever vew ?

Yet all these were, when no man did them know,
Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene;
And later times thinges more unknowne shall show.
Why then should witlesse man so much misweene,
That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?
What, if within the Moones fayre shining spheare,
What, if in every other starre unseene

Of other worldes he happily should heare?

He wonder would much more; yet such to some appeare.

Of Faery lond yet if he more inquyre,
By certein signes, here sett in sondrie place,
He may it fynd; ne let him then admyre
But yield his sence to bee too blunt and bace,
That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou, O fayrest princesse under sky,
In this fayre mirrhour maist behold thy face,
And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery,
And in this antique ymage thy great auncestry.

The which O! pardon me thus to enfold
In covert vele, and wrapt in shadowes light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which ells could not endure those beames bright,
But would bee dazled with exceeding light.
O! pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare
The brave adventures of this Faery knight,
The good sir Guyon, gratiously to heare;

In whom great rule of temp'raunce goodly doth

appeare.

CANTO I.

Guyon, by Archimage abusd,
The Redcrosse knight awaytes;
Fyndes Mordant and Amavia slaine
With pleasures poisoned baytes.

THAT Conning architect of cancred guyle,
Whom princes late displeasure left in bands,
For falsed letters, and suborned wyle;
Soone as the Redcrosse knight he understands
To beene departed out of Eden landes,
To serve againe his soveraine Elfin queene;
His artes he moves, and out of caytives handes
Himselfe he frees by secret meanes unseene;
His shackles emptie lefte, himselfe escaped cleene ;

And forth he fares, full of malicious mynd,
To worken mischiefe, and avenging woe,
Whereever he that godly knight may fynd,
His onely hart-sore and his onely foe;
Sith Una now he algates must forgoe,
Whom his victorious handes did earst restore
To native crowne and kingdom late ygoe;
Where she enjoyes sure peace for evermore,
As wetherbeaten ship arryv'd on happie shore.

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight
And deadly food he makes: him to offend
By forged treason, or by open fight,
He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end:
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,
His practick witt and his fayre fyled tonge,
With thousand other sleightes; for well he kend
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong
For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong.

Still, as he went, he craftie stales did lay,
With cunning traynes him to entrap unwares,
And privy spyals plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;
To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.
But now so wise and wary was the knight
By tryall of his former harmes and cares,
That he descryde, and shonned still, his slight:
The fish, that once was caught, new bayt wil hardly
byte.

Nath'lesse th' enchaunter would not spare his payne,
In hope to win occasion to his will:
Which when he long awaited had in vayne,
He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill:
For to all good he enimy was still.
Upon the way him fortuned to meete,
Fayre marching underneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,
That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and upright;
His countenance demure and temperate ;
But yett so sterne and terrible in sight,
That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate :
He was an Elfin borne, of noble state
And mickle worship in his native land;
Well could he tourney, and in lists debate,
And knighthood tooke of good sir Huons hand,
When with king Oberon he came to Fary land.
T 4

Him als accompanyd upon the way
A comely palmer, clad in black attyre,
Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray,
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:
And, if by lookes one may the mind aread,
He seemd to be a sage and sober syre;
And ever with slow pace the knight did lead, [tread.
Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to

Such whenas Archimago them did view,
He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle :
Eftsoones, untwisting his deceiptfull clew,
He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle;
And, with faire countenance and flattring style
To them approching, thus the knight bespake:
"Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike spoyle,
And great atchiev'ments, great yourselfe to make,
Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake."

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,
And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt:
Who feigning then in every limb to quake
Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt,
With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt;
"Dear lady! how shall I declare thy cace,
Whom late I left in languorous constraynt?
Would God! thyselfe now present were in place
To tell this ruefull tale: thy sight could win thee
grace:

"Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst,
That you, most noble sir, had present beene
When that lude rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst,
Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene,
To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene
As on the Earth, great mother of us all,
With living eye more fayre was never seene
Of chastity and honour virginall:
[call!
Witnes, ye Heavens, whom she in vaine to help did

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How may it be," sayd then the knight halfe wroth, "That knight should knighthood ever so have shent?" [troth, "None but that saw," quoth he, "would weene for How shamefully that mayd he did torment: Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent, And drew her on the ground; and his sharpe sword Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent, And threatned death with many a bloodie word; Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to see abhord."

Therewith amoved from his sober mood, [act? "And lives he yet," said he, "that wrought this And doen the Heavens afford him vitall food?" "He lives," quoth he, " and boasteth of the fact, Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt." [found, "Where may that treachour then," sayd he, "be Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?" "That I shall shew," said he, " as sure as hound The stricken deare doth chaleng by the bleeding

wound."

He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre
And zealous haste away is quickly gone
To seeke that knight, where him that crafty squyre
Supposd to be. They do arrive anone
Where sate a gentle lady all alone,
With garments rent, and heare discheveled,
Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone:
Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said;
"Faire lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight,
Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd,
And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:
Forthe appease your griefe and heavy plight,
And tell the cause of your conceived payne;
For, if he live that hath you doen despight,
He shall you doe dew recompence agayne,
Or els his wrong with greater puissaunce maintaine.”

Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise
She wilfully her sorrow did augment,
And offred hope of comfort did despise :
Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,
Aud scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment;
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,
But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene:

Till her that squire bespake; " Madame, my liefe,
For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent,
But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you present.
For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment
When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,
And the weake minde with double woe torment?"
When she her squyre heard speake, she gan appease
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said, "Ah! gentle trustie squyre,
What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave!
Or why should ever I henceforth desyre
To see faire Heavens face, and life not leave,
Sith that false traytour did my honour reave?"
"False traytour certes," saide the Faerie knight,
"I read the man, that ever would deceave

A gentle lady, or her wrong through might :
Death were too little paine for such a fowle despight.

"But now, fayre lady, comfort to you make,
And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight,
That short revenge the man may overtake,
Whereso he be, and soone upon him light.'
"Certes," said she, "I wote not how he hight,
But under him a gray steede he did wield,
Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;
Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

He bore a bloodie crosse, that quartred all the field."

"Now by my head," said Guyon, “much I muse,
How that same knight should doe so fowle amis,
Or ever gentle damzell so abuse:
For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and true of word ywis:
I present was, and can it witnesse well,
When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris
Th' adventure of the errant damozell;

In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tell.

"Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,
And fairely quit him of th' imputed blame;
Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde,
Or make you good amendment for the same:
All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame.
Now therefore, lady, rise out of your paine,
And see the salving of your blotted name.'
Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;
For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such as she did faine,
Ne yet her person such as it was seene;
But under simple shew, and semblant plaine,
Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene,
As a chaste virgin that had wronged beene;
So had false Archimago her disguysd,

To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;
And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

To be her squire, and do her service well aguisd.

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found
Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,
Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground,
And with greene mosse cov'ring her nakednesse
To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,
Sith her prince Arthur of proud ornaments
And borrowd beauty spoyld: her nathëlesse
Th' enchaunter finding fit for his intents

Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

For all he did was to deceive good knights,
And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame
To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,
And end their daies with irrenowmed shame,
And now exceeding griefe him overcame,
To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye;
Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,
Against his praise to stirre up enmitye
Of such, as vertues like mote unto him allye.

So now he Guyon guydes an úncouth way
Through woods and mountaines, till they came at
Into a pleasant dale that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads, overplast,
The valley did with coole shade overcast ;
Through midst thereof a little river rold,

[last

By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,
Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,
After his travell long and labours manifold.

"Lo! yonder he," cryde Archimage alowd,
"That wrought the shamefull fact which I did
And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd, [shew;
To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew;
But vaine; for ye shall dearely do him rew:
(So God ye speed and send you good successe !)
Which we far off will here abide to vew.
So they him left inflam'd with wrathfulnesse,
That streight against that knight his speare he did
addresse.

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Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,
His warlike armes about him gan embrace,
And in the rest his ready speare did sticke;
Tho, whenas still he saw him towards pace,
He gan recounter him in equall race.
They bene ymett, both ready to affrap,
When suddeinly that warriour gan abace
His threatned speare, as if some new mishap
Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap;
And cryde," Mercie, sir Knight! and mercie, lord,
For mine offence and heedelesse hardiment,
That had almost committed crime abhord,
And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,
Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,
The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,
Which on your shield is set for ornament!"
But his fierce foe his steed could stay uneath,
Who, prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell
breath.

But, when he heard him speake, streight way he
His errour; and, himselfe inclyning, sayd; [knew
"Ah! deare sir Guyon, well becommeth you,
But me behoveth rather to upbrayd,
Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd,
That almost it did haynous violence

On that fayre ymage of that heavenly mayd,
That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:
Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew offence."

So beene they both atone, and doen upreare
Their bevers bright each other for to greet;
Goodly comportaunce each to other beare,
And entertaine themselves with court'sies meet.
Then said the Redcrosse knight, " Now mote I weet,
Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce,
And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet;
For, sith I know your goodly gouvernance,
Great cause,

weene, you guided, or some úncouth chaunce."

"Certes," said he,: "well mote I shame to tell
The fond encheason that me hether led.
A false infamous faitour late befell
Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,
And playnd of grievous outrage, which he red
A knight had wrought against a lady gent;
Which to avenge, he to this place me led,
Where you he made the marke of his intent, [went!"
And now is fled: foule shame him follow wher he

So can he turne his earnest unto game,
Through goodly handling and wise temperaunce.
By this his aged guide in presence came;
Who, soone as on that knight his eye did glaunce,
Eftsoones of him had perfect cognizaunce,
Sith him in Faery court he late avizd : [chaunce,
And said; "Fayre sonne, God give you happy
And that deare crosse uppon your shield devizd,
Wherewith above all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd!

Of late most hard atchiev'ment by you donne,
"Ioy may you have, and everlasting fame,
For which enrolled is your glorious name
In heavenly regesters above the Sunne,
Where you a saint with saints your seat have wonne!
But wretched we, where ye have left your marke,
Must now anew begin like race to ronne.
God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,
And to the wished haven bring thy weary barke!"

"Palmer," him answered the Redcrosse knight,
"His be the praise, that this atchiev'ment wrought,
Who made my hand the organ of his might!
More then goodwill to me attribute nought;
For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire sir, whose pageant next ensewes,
Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,
That home ye may report thrise happy newes!
For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle thewes."

So courteous congé both did give and take,
With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.
Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make
With his blacke palmer, that him guided still:
Still he him guided over dale and hill,

And with his steedy staffe did point his way;
His race with reason, and with words his will,
From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay,
And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps to stray.

In this faire wize they traveild long yfere,
Through many hard assayes which did betide;
Of which he honour still away did beare,
And spred his glory through all countryes wide.
At last, as chaunst them by a forest side

To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,
They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride
With percing shriekes and many a dolefull lay;
Which to attend, awhile their forward steps they stay.

"But if that carelesse Hevens," quoth she, "despise
The doome of iust revenge, and take delight
To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries,
As bownd by them to live in lives despight;
Yet can they not warne Death from wretched wight.
Come, then; come, soone; come, sweetest Death, to
And take away this long lent loathed light: [me,
Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweete the medicines be,
That long captived soules from weary thraldome free.

"But thou, sweete babe, whom frowning froward
Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall, [fate
Sith Heven thee deignes to hold in living state,
Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall
Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall!
Live thou! and to thy mother dead attest,
That cleare she dide from blemish criminall:
Thy little hands embrewd in bleeding brest,
Loe! I for pledges leave! So give me leave to rest!"

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw
That through the wood re-echoed againe;
And after gave a grone so deepe and low
That seemd her tender hart was rent in twaine,
Or thrild with point of thorough-piercing paine :
As gentle hynd, whose sides with cruell steele
Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine,
Whiles the sad pang approching shee does feele,
Braies out her latest breath, and up her eies doth
seele.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict
From his tall steed, he rusht into the thick,
And soone arrived where that sad pourtraict
Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quick;
In whose white alabaster brest did stick
A cruell knife that made a griesly wownd,
From which forth gusht a stream of goreblood thick,
That all her goodly garments staind arownd,
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy grownd.

Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart,
Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay,
Which shee increased with her bleeding hart,
And the cleane waves with purple gore did ray :
Als in her lap a lovely babe did play
His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;
For in her streaming blood he did embay
His litle hands, and tender ioints embrew:
Pitifull spectacle, as ever eie did vew !

Besides them both, upon the soiled gras
The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,
Whose armour all with blood besprincled was;
His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett being ded;
Seemd to have beene a goodly personage,
Now in his freshest flowre of lustyhed,
Fitt to inflame faire lady with loves rage,

But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

Whom when the good sir Guyon did behold,
His hart gan wexe as starke as marble stone,
And his fresh blood did frieze with fearefull cold,
That all his sences seemd berefte attone:
At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to grone,
As lion, grudging in his great disdaine,
Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone;
Til ruth and fraile affection did constraine [paine.
His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward

Out of her gored wound the cruell steel
He lightly snatcht, and did the floodgate stop
With his faire garment: then gan softly feel
Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop
Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop:
Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire
To call backe life to her forsaken shop:
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,
That at the last shee gan to breath out living aire.
Which he perceiving, greatly gan reioice,
And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart
Is meetest med 'cine, tempred with sweete voice;
"Ay me! deare lady, which the ymage art
Of ruefull pitty and impatient smart,
What direfull chaunce armd with avenging fate,
Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell part,
Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date? [late."
Speake, O dear lady, speake; help never comes too

Therewith her dim eie-lids she up gan reare,
On which the dreary Death did sitt as sad
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare:
But when as him, all in bright armour clad,
Before her standing she espied had,

As one out of a deadly dreame affright,
She weakely started, yet she nothing drad:
Streight downe againe herselfe in great despight
She groveling threw to ground, as hating life and
light.

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With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye,
As Heven accusing guilty of her death,
And with dry drops congealed in her eye,
In these sad wordes she spent her utmost breath;
"Heare then, O man, the sorrowes that uneath
My tong can tell, so far all sence they pas!
Loe! this dead corpse, that lies here underneath,
The gentlest knight, that ever on greene gras
Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good sir Mor-
dant was:

"Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now!)
My lord, my love, my deare lord, my deare love,
So long as Hevens iust with equall brow
Vouchsafed to behold us from above.

-Not one word more she

"Which when I, wretch".
But breaking off the end for want of breath, [sayd,
And slyding soft, as downe to sleepe her layd,
And ended all her woe in quiet death.

That seeing, good sir Guyon could uneath
From teares abstayne; for griefe his hart did grate,
And from so heavie sight his head did wreath,
Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate,

Which plonged had faire lady in so wretched state:

Then, turning to his palmer, said; " Old syre,
Behold the ymage of mortalitie,
And feeble nature cloth'd with fleshly tyre!
When raging Passion with fierce tyranny
Robs Reason of her dew regalitie,

And makes it servaunt to her basest part;
The strong it weakens with infirmitie,
And with bold furie armes the weakest hart:

[fild. The strong through pleasure soonest falles, the weake

One day, when him high corage did emmove,
(As wont ye knightes to seeke adventures wilde)
He pricked forth his puissaunt force to prove,
Me then he left enwombed of this childe,
This luckles childe, whom thus ye see with blood de-
"Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse!)
To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne;
Acrasia, a false enchaunteresse,

That many errant knightes have fowle fordonne;
Within a wandring island, that doth ronne
And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is:
Fayre sir, if ever there ye travell, shonne
The cursed land where many wend amis,

[might,

And know it by the name; it hight the Bowre of Blis.
"Her blis is all in pleasure, and delight,
Wherewith she makes her lovers dronken mad;
And then with wordes, and weedes, of wondrous
On them she workes her will to uses bad:
My liefest lord she thus beguiled had;
For he was flesh: (all flesh doth frayltie breed!)
Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad,
(Weake wretch) I wrapt myselfe in palmers weed,
And cast to seek him forth through danger and great

dreed.

"Now had fayre Cynthia by even tournes
Full measured three quarters of her yeare,
And thrice three tymes had fild her crooked hornes,
Whenas my wombe her burdein would forbeare,
And bad me call Lucina to me neare.

Lucina came: a manchild forth I brought: [weare:
The woods, the nymphes, my bowres, my midwives,
Hard help at need! so deare thee, babe, I bought;
Yet nought too dear I deemd, while so my deare I
sought.

"Him so I sought; and so at last I fownd,
Where him that witch had thralled to her will,
In chaines of lust and lewde desyres ybownd,
And so transformed from his former skill,
That me he knew not, nether his owne ill;
Till, through wise handling and faire governaunce,
I him recured to a better will,
Purged from drugs of fowle intempraunce:
Then meanes I gan devise for his deliverance.
"Which when the vile enchaunteresse perceiv'd,
How that my lord from her I would reprive,
With cup thus charmd him parting she deceivd;
• Sad verse, give death to him that death does give,
And losse of love to her that loves to live,
So soone as Bacchus with the nymphe does lincke!'
So parted we, and on our iourney drive;
Till, coming to this well, he stoupt to drincke:
The charme fulfild, dead suddeinly he downe did
sincke.

through smart."

"But temperaunce," said he, "with golden squire
Betwixt them both can measure out a meane;
Nether to melt in pleasures whott desyre,
Nor frye in hartlesse griefe and dolefull tene :
Thrise happy man, who fares them both atweene!
But sith this wretched woman overcome
Of anguish, rather then of crime, hath bene,
Reserve her cause to her eternall doome;
And, in the meane, vouchsafe her honorable toombe."

"Palmer," quoth he, "death is an equall doome
To good and bad, the common in of rest;
But after death the tryall is to come,
When best shall bee to them that lived best:
But both alike, when death hath both supprest,
Religious reverence doth burial teene;
Which whoso wants, wants so much of his rest:
For all so greet shame after death I weene,
As selfe to dyen bad, unburied bad to beene.

So both agree their bodies to engrave :
The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,
And with sad cypresse seemely it embrave;
Then, covering with a clod their closed eye,
They lay therein their corses tenderly,
And bid them sleepe in everlasting peace.
But, ere they did their utmost obsequy,
Sir Guyon more affection to increase,
Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should ay releace.

The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew,
With which he cutt a lock of all their heare,
Which medling with their blood and earth he threw
Into the grave, and gan devoutly sweare;
"Such and such evil God on Guyon reare,
And worse and worse, young orphane, be thy pane,
If I, or thou, dew vengeaunce doe forbeare,
Till guiltie blood her guerdon doe obtayne!".
So, shedding many teares, they closd the earth

agayne.

CANTO II.

Babes bloody handes may not be clensd.
The face of Golden Meane:
Her sisters, Two Extremities,

Strive her to banish cleane.

THUS when sir Guyon with his faithful guyde
Had with dew rites and dolorous lament

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