Her radiaunt beames began for to spreade,
And splendent Phebus, in his golden spere,
The cristalle ayr did make fayre and redde,
Darke Dyane declining pale as any ledde,
When the lytle byrdes swetely dyd syng
Laudes to their maker early in the mornyng.
CAP. XXXIV.
HOW HE MET WITH PERCEVERAUNCE, AND REPOSED HYM IN THE MANOUR PLACE OF DAME COMFORT.
Up I rose, and did make me ready,
For I thought long unto my journeys ende:
My grahoundes lept on me ryght merely,