Page:Works of Edmund Spenser - 1857.djvu/395



now have playde, Augustus wantonly, Tuning our song unto a tender muse, And, like a cobweb weaving slenderly, Have onely playde: let thus much then excuse This Gnats small poëme, that th’ whole historie Is but a iest, though envie it abuse: But who such sports and sweet delights doth blame, Shall lighter seeme then this Gnats idle name.

Hereafter, when as season more secure Shall bring forth fruit, this muse shall speak to thee In bigger notes, that may thy sense allure, And for thy worth frame some fit poesie: The golden ofspring of Latona pure, And ornament of great Loves progenie, Phœbus, shall be the author of my song, Playing on ivorie harp with silver strong.

He shall inspire my verse with gentle mood Of poet’s prince, whether he woon beside Faire Xanthus sprincled with Chimæras blood; Or in the woods of Astery abide; Or whereas mount Parnasse, the muses brood, Doth his broad forhead like two homes divide, And the sweete waves of sounding Castaly With liquid foote doth slide downe easily.

Wherefore ye sisters, which the glorie bee Of the Pierian streames, faire naiades, Go too; and dauncing all in companie, Adorne that god: and thou holie Pales, To whome the honest care of husbandrie Returneth by continuall successe, Have care for to pursue his footing light Through the wide woods, and groves, with green leaves dight.