Gnashed his iron teeth for grief and spite :

The burning sparks leap from his flaming sight,

And from his smoking jaws streams out a smould’ring night.

XLI.

Straight thither sends he in a fresh supply,

The swelling band that drunken Methos led; And all the rout his brother Gluttony

Commands, in lawless bands disordered;

So now they bold restore their broken fight,
And fiercely turn again from shameful flight;
While both with former loss sharpen their raging spite.
XLII,

Freshly these Knights assault these fresher bands,
And with new battle all their strength renew:
Down fell Geloios by Encrates' hands ;

Agneia, Machus and Anagnus slew;

And spying Methos fenc'd in's iron vine,

Pierc'd his swollen paunch: there lies the drunken swine, And spues his liquid soul out in his purple wine, XLIII.

As when a greedy lion, long unfed,

Breaks in at length into the harmless folds;
(So hungry rage commands) with fearful dread
He drags the silly beasts: nothing controuls
The victor proud; he spoils, devours, and tears:
In vain the keeper calls his shepherd peers:

Mean while the simple flock gaze on with silent fears.
XLIV.

Such was the slaughter these three champions made;
But most Encrates, whose unconquer'd hands

Sent thousand foes down to th' infernal shade,
With useless limbs strewing the bloody sands:

Oft were they succour'd fresh with new supplies, But fell as oft-the Dragon, grown more wise By former loss, began another way devise.

XLV.

Soon to their aid the Cyprian band he sent,
For easy skirmish clad in armour light:
Their golden bows in hand stood ready bent,

And painted quivers, furnish'd well for fight,

Stuck full of shafts, whose heads foul poison stains ;
Which dipp'd in Phlegethon by hellish swains,

Bring thousand painful deaths, and thousand deadly pains.
XLVI.

Thereto of substance strong, so thin and slight,

And wrought by subtil hand so cunningly,
That hardly were discern'd by weaker sight;
Sooner the heart did feel, than eye could see:
Far off they stood, and flung their darts around
Raining whole clouds of arrows on the ground;
So safely others hurt, and never wounded, wound.
XLVII.

Much were the knighs encumber'd with these foes;
For well they saw, and felt their enemies :
But when they back would turn the borrow'd blows,
The light-foot troop away more swiftly flies

Than do their winged arrows through the wind:
And in their course oft would they turn behind,
And with their glancing darts their hot pursuers blind.
XLVIII.

As when by Russian Volgha's frozen banks,

The false-back Tartars, fear, with cunning feign,

And posting fast away in flying ranks,

Oft backward turn, and from their bows down rain

Whole storms of darts; so do they flying fight:
And what by force they lose, they win by slight;
Conquer'd by standing out, and conquerors by flight.
XLIX.

Such was the craft of this false Cyprian crew:
Yet oft they seem'd to slack their fearful pace,
And yield themselves to foes that fast pursue;
So would they deeper wound in nearer space;
In such a fight, he wins who fastest flies.

Fly, fly chaste knights, such subtil enemies :
The vanquish'd cannot live, and conqu'ror surely dies.

L.

The knights oppress'd with wounds and travel past,
Did soon retire, and now were near to fainting:
With that a winged post him speeded fast,
The General with these heavy news acquainting:
He soon refresh'd their hearts that 'gan to tire.
But, let our weary Muse awhile respire:

Shade we our scorched heads from Phœbus' parching fire."

THE shepherds, guarded from the sparkling heat
Of blazing air, upon the flow'ry banks,
(Where various flow'rs damask the fragrant seat,
And all the grove perfume) in wonted ranks
Securely sit them down, and sweetly play:
At length, thus Thirsil ends his broken lay,
Lest that the stealing night his later song might stay.

II.

"Thrice, oh, thrice happy, shepherd's life and state! When courts are happiness, unhappy pawns : His cottage low, and safely humble gate

Shuts out proud Fortune, with her scorns and fawns: No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep:

Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep; Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep.

III.

No Serian worms he knows, that with their thread
Draw out their silken lives :-nor silken pride:
His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need,
Not in that proud Sidonian tincture dy'd :

No empty hopes, no courtly fears him fright;
Nor begging wants his middle fortune bite :
But sweet content exiles both misery and spite.
IV.

Instead of music, and base flattering tongues,
Which wait to first salute my lord's uprise;
The cheerful lark wakes him with early songs,

And birds' sweet whistling notes unlock his eyes..

1

In country plays is all the strife he uses;
Or sing, or dance, unto the rural Muses;
And but in music's sports, all difference refuses.

V.

His certain life, that never can deceive him,

Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content:
The smooth leav'd beeches in the field receive him
With coolest shades, till noon-tide rage is spent :
His life is neither tost in boist'rous seas

Of troubl'ous world, nor lost in slothful ease: Pleas'd and full blest he lives, when he his God can please. VI.

His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps,

While by his side his faithful spouse hath place:

His little son into his bosom creeps

The lively picture of his father's face:

Never his humble house or state torment him ;

Less he could like, if less his God had sent him And when he dies, green turfs, with grassy tomb, content him.

VII.

The world's Great Light his lowly state hath bless'd,
And left his Heav'n to be a shepherd base :
Thousand sweet songs he to his pipe address'd:
Swift rivers stood, beasts, trees, stones, ran apace,
And serpents flew to hear his softest strains;
He fed his flock where rolling Jordan reigns;
There took our rags, gave us his robes, and bore our pains.
VIII.

Then thou High Light! whom shepherds low adore,

Teach me, oh! do thou teach thy humble swain

To raise my creeping song from earthly floor!
Fill thou my empty breast with lofty strain;
Z