XXIII

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,
  And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 200
  To tell, were as to strive against the streame;
  My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
  Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace. 
  Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight,
  All were she[*] dayly with himselfe in place, 205
  Did wonder much at her celestiall sight: 
Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.

XXIV

So fairely dight, when she in presence came,
  She to her Sire made humble reverence,
  And bowed low, that her right well became, 210
  And added grace unto her excellence: 
  Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence
  Thus gan to say.  But eare he thus had said,
  With flying speede, and seeming great pretence
  Came running in, much like a man dismaid, 215
A Messenger with letters, which his message said.

XXV

All in the open hall amazed stood
  At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight,
  And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood. 
  But he for nought would stay his passage right, 220
  Till fast before the king he did alight;
  Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make,
  And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight;
  Then to his hands that writ he did betake,
Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake. 225

XXVI

To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire,
  Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest,
  The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire
  Of that great Emperour of all the West;
  And bids thee be advized for the best, 230
  Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
  Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest: 
  For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love, and to another land.

XXVII

To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, 235
  He was affiaunced long time before,
  And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,
  False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore: 
  Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore,
  And guiltie heavens of his bold perjury, 240
  Which though he hath polluted oft of yore,
  Yet I to them for judgement just do fly,
And them conjure t’avenge this shamefull injury.

XXVIII

Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
  Or false or trew, or living or else dead, 245
  Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond
  From knitting league with him, I you aread;
  Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
  Through weaknesse of my widowhed, or woe;
  For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead, 250
  And shall find friends, if need requireth soe. 
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, Fidessa.