Page:The castle of Indolence - an allegorical poem - Written in imitation of Spenser (IA castleofindolenc00thomiala).pdf/51

 Come then, my Muse, and raise a bolder Song; Come, lig no more upon the Bed of Sloth, Dragging the lazy languid Line along, Fond to begin, but still to finish , Thy half-writ Scrolls all eaten by the Moth: Arise, and sing that generous Imp of Fame, Who, with the Sons of Softness nobly wroth, To sweep away this Human Lumber came,

In Fairy-Land there liv'd a Knight of old, Of Feature stern, Selvaggio well yclep'd, A rough unpolish'd Man, robust and bold, But wondrous poor: he neither sow'd nor reap'd, Ne Stores in Summer for cold Winter heap'd; In Hunting all his Days away he wore; Now scorch'd by June, now in November steep'd, Now pinch'd by biting January sore,