University of Virginia Library

O glory great of Pattara!
Thou light of Licia lande!
Thou fame of Delph & Tenidose
Wheras thy temples stand!
Apollo bright! to whom the thinges
Forepassed & to come
Be always present as they were
prescribed be thy dom̄e,
At whom these problemes darke beyne sought,
These prophesyes vnspeld,
These vissions strange reveald, & dreames
Moste dreadfull truly teld,
None Imphe of thyne am I, nor of
The Sibills seruantes thyne,
Of Helenus no son̄e, nor of
Tirisias double lyne.
Howe should I then, without thyne ayde,
Attempt a thinge so lardge
As to expound my Ladyes dreame,
As she hathe giuen me charge?
Sine that to the pertayned, on the
My burthen must I laye,
Suffyseth me wher, what, & when,
It was for to displaye.
Farr in that ysle which the ocyan old
Imbracethe lyke a wall,
Which thanciantes named thother worlde,
Nowe Brittaine we it call—
Of which the middowes partes bespreides
The hardye Inglish knight,
The Northern boundes is bordred by
The warlyke Scottish wight—
Wher rears the dreadfull mownt so styld
Of olde, who on his breast
The broughe of Sterlinge beares, and high
The Castell on his creaste,
When Ianus tooke his Inn at signe
Of Capricornus colde,
In hope that thou, O Phebus great,
Thy Ryottes ther should holde,
Lo! in this ysle, this tyme, & place,
As ther my Ladye slept,
Into hir harmlesse head the godd
Morpheus closelye crepte,
Dispersinge deip his dreames which showe
Hir sleipinge sences sought,
And lyke as dyuerse humours stird
So dyuerse was hir thought.
And first she dreames of hills & dailes,
And nowe in waylesse woodes
She wenes she wanders wylde, & treades
In streames of furious floodes,
Till on a pathe that ditches deipe,
Which walls vpp flancketh thin,
With water vglye blacke that beastes
Full monstrous wallowe in,
Agast, she thinckes she go'the, wher feare
asaltinge on hir sett
A swarme of serpentes that almoste
Into the trenche hir bett.
Three tymes they on sett made & thryse
repulst; they semed to fight
By might vnknowne, till at the last
Amid the mote they light.
With this she thinkes she mendes hir pace,
As dothe the chased hayre
Eschapte the greyhoundes Iawes, and skipps
And madlethe heare & ther;
As mynde of feare hir moues nowe faste,
Nowe slowe, with pantinge breith,
Beleivinge at hir backe hir foe
pursewinge thristes hir deathe,
So stryues this slombringe soule affrayde
That perrills seikes to shun.
But oft who dreadethe dangers most
In dangers soonest ronne;
As hapened hir who thought hir selfe
drawn from all danger deipe,
And ticklinge Ioye began about
hir quakinge harte to creipe.
Behould a dreadfull beast she thought
She sawe of portlye state,
Who, capteu of his owne accorde,
stood pen̄ed in a grave;
Who, as he sawe my ladye, to
hir lept with gastlye pawe,
As he dovoure hir should, or all
In peices would hir drawe.
But veiwinge well hir highe regarde
And steidfaste countenance graue,
It seemd a soddaine feare him shooke:
For backe with that he gaue,
Lyke one who at a soddaine meittes
his better in the streit,
And quicklye giues the waye & with
Lowe curtesye dothe him greit;
Or lyke the hownd rebukt before
his lord dothe humblie lye,
So fell this lordlye beast, & semd
hir mercye for to crye.
With this my Ladyes dreame & my
Request at once tooke end.
And thervppon Hiperions sonne
This ansser forthe did send.
Quod he: “somtyme the evidence
Of these thinges visions be,
But thryse as oft of none effect
And frustrate ye them see.
Of cogitacions of the daye
Some say they haue ther ground,
But of complexions moste they ryse,
When humours highe abownde.
To dreame of floodes & swellinge seas
And drowninge in the deipe,
The persons that are flematyke
oft metethe in ther sleip;
The malencholique dreames of gahostes,
Of bulls & lyons wood,
The Colloricke of stryffe, of fyre,
Of weapons, & of blood
That downe the Mare his breist doth beare,
The rudye Sanguyne vaynes.
Thus sondry ways they ryse; But this
Thy Ladyes vission meanes.

The Narrowe passage that she past
Foreshowes this combrous vaile
So hard to trace; the Serpentes flee
That did hir spritt assayle
And almoste bett hir downe, that is,
The tongus of wicked wightes
That seikes hir deip decaye, but farr
It shall surpasse ther mightes:
For lyke as in the vglye pond
She thoght she saw them blowne,
So they ther false desertes & slightes
In Leathy shalbe throwne.
The galliard beist in wilfull warde
That semed for to remayne,
Some youthe it is that lawlesse loue
Hathe fettered in his chayne,
Who rauisht with hir lyvely youthe,
Hir bewtye, & hir grace,
Beleyved at first she linckt hir mynde
Vnto his lassyve lace;
But pondringe well hir stately race,
Hir witt, & manners grave,
he sees that loue & bewtye made
Throughe luste his hart to rave;
So nowe with tyme he hopes to win
Which haste drewe in extremes.
Iudge thou the rest: so fare the wele!
Thou vexest me with dreames.”