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SQUIRE of D A M E S.
A PO E M.
In SPENSE R's STIL E.
In the seventh Canto of the Legend of Chastity, in Spen
ser's Fairy Queen, the Squire of Dames tells Satyrane, that by order of his mistress Columbel (after having served the ladies for a year) he was sent out a second time, not to return till be could
find three hundred women incapable of yielding to any temptation. The bad fuccess he met with in the course of three years, which is slightly touch'd upon by Spenser, is the foundation of the following poem. PROLOGU E.
Ne felt the pleasing anguish of desire.
Who doth for court his annual song prepare :
Did fuck the poison from her Edward's wound,
Some flow'rets cull to deck their flowing hair
Nor age's ice my ardent zeal shall tame,
life's end I shall your names adore, Not hermits bosoms feel so pure a fame,
Warm’d by approval I more high shall soar : Receive my humble lays, my heart was yours before.
V. Should you consent, I'll quit my shepherd's grey, And don more graceful and more costly gear, My crook and scrip I'll throw with scorn away, And in a samite garment appear. Farewell, ye groves, which once I held so dear; Farewell, ye glens, I other joys pursue; Then shall the world your matchless pow'r revere,
And own what wonders.your sweet smiles can do, That could a simple clown into a bard transmew.
The Squire of Dames to Satyrane
His history doth tell,
To gain his Columbel.
Sith you command my tongue, fir Satyrane,
Whose hearts should aye with Virtue's leffons glow, And to all fwains but one cry out for ever, No.
And vows or bribes o'er women may prevail ;
The fair we love expects to be obey'd,
The hard experiment resolv'd to try :
IV. A grove I reach'd, where tuneful throstles sung, The linnet here did ope his little throat, His twitting jests around the cuckoo fung, And the proud goldfinch show'd his painted coat, And hail'd us with no inharmonious note: The robin eke here tun'd his sonnet fhrill, And told the soothing ditty all by rote,
How he with leaves his pious beak did fill, To shroud those pretty babes, whom Sib unkind would
V. And many a fair Narcissus deck'd the plain, That seem'd anew their passions to admire ; Here Ajax told his dolors o'er again, And am'rous Clytie sicken'd with desire ; Here the blown rose her odors sweet did spire; Through the dun grove a murm’ring river led His chrystal streams that wound in many a gyre;
The baleful willow all the banks bespread, And ever to the breeze ycurl'd his hoary head.