XI

But all in vaine:  no fort can be so strong,
  Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sound,
  But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
  Or unawares at disadvantage found: 
  Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground:  95
  And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
  And boasts in beauties chaine not to be bound,
  Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most despight.

XII

Ensample make[*] of him your haplesse joy, 100
  And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
  Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy
  Did soone pluck downe and curbd my libertie. 
  For on a day, prickt forth with jollitie
  Of looser life, and heat of hardiment, 105
  Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
  The fields, the floods, the heavens with one consent
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

XIII

For-wearied with my sports, I did alight
  From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd; 110
  The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
  And pillow was my helmet faire displayd: 
  Whiles every sence[*] the humour sweet embayd,
  And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
  Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd 115
  Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay: 
So faire a creature yet saw never sunny day.

XIV

Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment
  She to me made, and bad me love her deare;
  For dearely sure her love was to me bent, 120
  As when just time expired should appeare. 
  But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
  Was never hart so ravisht with delight,
  Ne living man like words did ever heare,
  As she to me delivered all that night; 125
And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.

XV

When I awoke, and found her place devoyd,
  And nought but pressed gras, where she had lyen,
  I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd,
  And washed all her place with watry eyen. 130
  From that day forth I lov’d that face divine;
  From that day forth I cast in carefull mind
  To seeke her out with labour, and long tyne,
  And never vowd to rest till her I find,
Nine monethes I seeke in vain, yet ni’ll that vow unbind. 135

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 prowesse may
  Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound: 
True Loves are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.