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ONE day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, | |
| From her unhastie beast she did alight; | |
| And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay | |
| In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight; | |
| From her fayre head her fillet she undight, | 5 |
| And layd her stole aside. Her angels face, | |
| As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, | |
| And made a sunshine in the shady place; | |
| Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace. | |
| |
| It fortunèd, out of the thickest wood | 10 |
| A ramping lyon rushèd suddeinly, | |
| Hunting full greedy after salvage blood: | |
| Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, | |
| With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, | |
| To have attonce devoured her tender corse; | 15 |
| But to the pray whenas he drew more ny, | |
| His bloody rage aswagèd with remorse | |
| And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. | |
| |
| Instead thereof, he kist her wearie feet, | |
| And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong | 20 |
| As he her wrongèd innocence did weet. 1 | |
| O how can beautie maister the most strong, | |
| And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! | |
| Whose yielded pryde and proud submission, | |
| Still dreading death, when she had markèd long, | 25 |
| Her hart gan melt in great compassion; | |
| And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. | |
| |
| “The lyon, lord of everie beast in field,” | |
| Quoth she, “his princely puissance doth abate, | |
| And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, | 30 |
| Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late | |
| Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:— | |
| But he, my lyon, and my noble lord, | |
| How does he find in cruell hart to hate | |
| Her, that him lovd, and ever most adord | 35 |
| As the god of my life? why hath he me abhord?” | |
| |
| Redounding tears did choke th’ end of her plaint, | |
| Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood; | |
| And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint, | |
| The kingly beast upon her gazing stood; | 40 |
| With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood. | |
| At last, in close hart shutting up her payne, | |
| Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood, | |
| And to her snowy palfrey got agayne, | |
| To seek her strayèd champion if she might attayne. | 45 |
| |
| The lyon would not leave her desolate, | |
| But with her went along, as a strong gard | |
| Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate | |
| Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: | |
| Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward; | 50 |
| And, when she wakt, he wayted diligent, | |
| With humble service to her will prepard; | |
| From her fayre eyes he took commandment, | |
| And ever by her lookes conceivèd her intent. | |
