And eke thy selfe of honour, which thou didst atchiue.
Prouidence heauenly passeth liuing thought, xxvii
And doth for wretched mens reliefs make way;
For loe great grace or fortune thither brought
Comfort to him, that comfortlesse now lay.
In those same woods, ye well remember may,
How that a noble hunteresse did wonne,
She, that base Braggadochio did affray,
And made him fast out of the forrest runne;
Belphœbe was her name, as faire as Phœbus sunne.