Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did flow Fresh Alimeda deckt with girlond greene; XLVII On her two pretty handmaides did attend, XLVIII Hyponeo with salt-bedewed wrests; LI All these the daughters of old Nereus were, Which have the sea in charge to them assinde, To rule his tides, and surges to uprere, To bring forth stormes, or fast them to upbinde, And sailers save from wreckes of wrathfull winde. [were And yet, besides, three thousand more there Of th' Oceans seede, but Joves and Phoebus kinde; The which in floods and fountaines doe apperc, And all mankinde do nourish with their waters clere. LIII The which, more eath it were for mortal wight And after these the Sea Nymphs marched all, Though vaine, I see, my sorrowes to unfold, And count my cares when none is nigh to heare, Yet, hoping griefe may lessen being told, Therefore the antique wisards well invented mount, Yet all those same were there which erst I did re Nought could she read the roote of his disease, Ne weene what mister maladie it is, Whereby to seeke some meanes it to appease. Most did she thinke, but most she thought amis, That that same former fatall wound of his Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly healed, But closely rankled under th' orifis: Least did she thinke, that which he most con- Which being ment of mortall creatures sead, [vealed. For love of Nymphes she thought she need not cealed, That love it was, which in his hart lay unre care, But promist him, what ever wight she weare, It to replevie, and my sonne reprive. gaine. So he her told: but soone as she did heare That Florimell it was which wrought his paine, She gan afresh to chafe, and grieve in every vaine. XXVIII Yet since she saw the streight extremitie, In which his life unluckily was layd, It was no time to scan the prophecie, Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd, That his decay should happen by a mayd. It's late in death of daunger to advize, Or love forbid him, that is life denayd; But rather gan in troubled mind devize How she that Ladies libertie might enterprize. XXIX To Proteus selfe to sew she thought vaine, Who was the root and worker of her woe, alive.' it Yet durst he not the warrant to withstand, To graunt to her her sonnes life, which his foe, A cruell Tyrant, had presumpteouslie By wicked doome condemn'd a wretched death to die. XXXIV Who soone as he beheld that angels face His cheared heart eftsoones away gan chace Ahorn'd with all divine perfection, Sad death, revived with her sweet inspection, As withered weed through cruell winters tine, And feeble spirit inly felt refection: That feeles the warmth of sunny beames reLiftes up his head that did before decline, flection, And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine. XXXV Right so himselfe did Marinell upreare, When he in place his dearest love did spy; And though his limbs could not his bodie beare, Ne former strength returne so suddenly, i |