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The story told, Sir Topaz mov'd,
To see the revel scene;
All on the gloomy plain.
As there he bides, it so befel,
A shaking seiz'd the wall:
And music fills the hall.
But certes, solely sunk with woe,
His spirits in him dye;
Hangs flagging in the sky."
With that, Sir Topaz, hapless youth! In accents falt'ring, ay for ruth,
Intreats them pity graunt; “For als die been a mister wight Betray'd by wand’ring in the night
To tread the circled haunt."
“Ah Losell vile!” at once they roar; " And little skill'd of fairie lore,
Thy cause to come we know: Now has thy kestrell courage fell; And fairies, siuce a lye you tell,
Are free to work thee woe.”
Then Will, who bears the wispy fire
The captive upward flung;
Where whilome Edward hung.
The revel now proceeds apace,
They sit, they drink, and eat;
'Till all the rout retreat.
By this the stars began to wink,
And down ydrops the knight;
Beyond the length of night.
Chill, dark, alone, adreed he lay, 'Till up the welkin rose the day,
Then deem'd the dole was o’er: But wot ye well his barder lot? His seely back the hunch had got
Which Edwin lost afore.
This tale a Sybil-nurse ared;
And when the tale was done, “ Thus some are born, my son,” she cries, “With base impediments to rise,
And some are born with none.
“But virtue can itself advance
By fortune seem'd design'd:
Upon th' unworthy mind."
"Twas at the ragal feast, for Persia vou,
By Philip's warlike ser:
On his imperial throne:
Happy, happy, happy pair!
Timotheus plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers to ch'd the lyre: The trerobling notes ascend the sky,
· And hearinly joys inspire,
The song began from Jove;
When he to fair Olympia press’d,
With ravish'd ears
Affects to nod,
The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung;
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:
He shows his honest face.
Bacchus ever fair and young,