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Unto the place they come incontinent:
Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,
A rude, mishapen, monstrous rablement, 70
Whose like he never saw, he durst not bide,
But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride.

IX

The wyld woodgods arrived in the place,
There find the virgin dolefull desolate,
With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face, 75
As her outrageous foe had left her late;
And trembling yet through feare of former hate:
All stand amazed at so uncouth sight,
And gin to pittie her unhappie state;
All stand astonied at her beautie bright, 80
In their rude eyes unworthy of so wofull plight.

X

She more amaz'd, in double dread doth dwell;
And every tender part for feare doth shake:
As when a greedie Wolfe, through hunger fell,
A seely Lambe farre from the flocke does take, 85
Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make,
A Lyon spyes fast running towards him,
The innocent pray in hast he does forsake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in every lim
With chaunge of feare,? to see the Lyon looke so grim. 90

XI

Such fearefull fit assaid her trembling hart,
Ne word to speake, ne joynt to move she had:
The salvage nation feele her secret smart,
And read her sorrow in her count'nance sad;
Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad, 95
And rustick horror? all a side doe lay;
And gently grenning, show a semblance glad
To comfort her, and feare to put away,
Their backward bent knees? teach her humbly to obay.

XII

The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit 100
Her single person to their barbarous truth;?
But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit,
Late learnd? what harme to hasty trust ensu'th:
They in compassion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beautie soveraine, 105
Are wonne with pitty and unwonted ruth,
And all prostrate upon the lowly plaine,
Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count'nance faine.

XIII

Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,
And yieldes her to extremitie of time; 110
So from the ground she fearlesse doth arise,
And walketh forth without suspect of crime:?
They all as glad, as birdes of joyous Prime,
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme, 115
And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,
Do worship her, as Queene, with olive? girlond cround.

XIV

And all the way their merry pipes they sound,
That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet? do weare the ground, 120
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring;
Who with the noyse awaked commeth out
To weet the cause, his weake steps governing,
And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout; 125
And with an yvie twyne his wast is girt about.

XV

Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad,
Or Bacchus merry fruit? they did invent,
Or Cybeles franticke rites? have made them mad,
They drawing nigh, unto their God present 130
That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.
The God himselfe, vewing that mirrhour rare,?
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;
His owne faire Dryope? now he thinkes not faire,
And Pholoe fowle when her to this he doth compaire. 135

XVI

The woodborne people fall before her flat,
And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;
And old Sylvanus selfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood; 140
Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,
But Venus never had so sober mood;
Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,
But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

XVII

By vew of her he ginneth to revive 145
His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse,?
And calles to mind his pourtraiture alive,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,?
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the lovely boy 150
Did love as life, above all worldly blisse;
For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after joy,?
But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy. ?

XVIII

The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades,?
Her to behold do thither runne apace, 155
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades?
Flocke all about to see her lovely face:
But when they vewed have her heavenly grace,
They envy her in their malitious mind,
And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace: 160
But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind,?