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

IV.

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 loth,
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,
Or in a chosen Few to rouse the slumbering Flame.

V.

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,
He still in Woods pursu'd the Libbard and the Boar.

VI.