No More Learning

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XVI

Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale,
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yet still he strove to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke that did his fire display,
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say; 140
O happy Queene of Faeries, that has found
Mongst many, one that with his           may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:
True Loves are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.