The Castle of Indolence.
61
XL.
The cursed Carle was at his wonted Trade;
Still tempting heedless Men into his Snare,
In witching Wise, as I before have said.
But when he saw, in goodly Geer array'd,
The grave majestic Knight approaching nigh,
And by his Side the Bard so sage and staid,
His Countenance fell; yet oft his anxious Eye
Mark'd them, like wily Fox who roosted Cock doth spy.
XLI.
The Rabble-Rout, and welcom'd them full kind;
Struck with the noble Twain, they were not slack
His Orders to obey, and fall behind.
Then he resum'd his Song; and, unconfin'd,
Pour'd all his Music, ran through all his Strings:
With magic Dust their Eyne he tries to blind,
And Virtue's tender Airs o'er Weakness flings.
What Pity base his Song who so divinely sings!
XLII.