The Faerie Queene. Book I. Canto I

Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, That sleepe and feed on Lords and Ladies glosse, Great Bardenes bane, and gayne of Giddy taske, Fain would I climb, yet fear I to losse my losse, And to the sons d'arte singe a stately song:

But for so sooth the sacred raptures which inflame The aged Poets, and the Muses throng, I feare my muse lesser mortall to blame; Yet since in latine doth my witte misse, I wil in English sing of Faery lond, Where I was bred: and in this glorious bliss,

Where I of late did trie the Wanders wondrous wand; There shall I shew of knightly deeds, and loyall love, And eke of fairest Una, lady of the land; Whose beautie can the sorrow to remove, Of any wight that living well hath seene;

For virtues sake the gentle hart to move, And eke to make triumphant armes to queene. Lo when I sing of vertues and of fayre, Foule Envie hight, that doth all good deface, And will not let sweet vertu full well appeare, But sheweth foule in ugly worldly case.

So now my Pensilesse pen, and private skill, Must fal in hart, that love of honour would; For onely I intent my sooth to spill In my rude verie, and in stedfast fold, To the delight of sencelesse creatures all;

And if I prick the Eye, or touche the Will, To any man that may reade this writ at call, I pray them beare with faults that Nature doth befall.