The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights° and fairest Tanaquill,°
Whom that most noble Briton Prince° so long 15
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.

III

And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove,°
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart 20
At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde;
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,° 25
In loves and gentle jollities arrayd,
After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.

IV

And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,°
Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine,
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light 30
Like Phoebus lampe° throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughts, too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,°
The argument of mine afflicted stile:° 35
The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred,° a-while.