After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.
And with them eke, O Goddesse heauenly bright, iv
Mirrour of grace and Maiestie diuine,
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my[17] feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted stile:
The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-while.