And do those men in golden thrones repose, 370
Whose merits they to glorifie do chose.

"The seven-fold yron gates of grislie Hell,
And horrid house of sad Proserpina,
They able are with power of mightie spell
To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie 375
Out of dread darkenesse to eternall day,
And them immortall make which els would die
In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie.

"So whilome raised they the puissant brood
Of golden-girt Alcmena, for great merite, 380
Out of the dust to which the Oetaean wood
Had him consum'd, and spent his vitall spirite,
To highest heaven, where now he doth inherite
All happinesse in Hebes silver bowre,
Chosen to be her dearest paramoure. 385

"So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlick twinnes.
And interchanged life unto them lent,
That, when th'one diës, th'other then beginnes
To shew in heaven his brightnes orient;
And they, for pittie of the sad wayment*, 390
Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make,
Her back againe to life sent for his sake.
[* _Wayment_, lament.]

"So happie are they, and so fortunate,
Whom the Pierian sacred sisters love,