In whose tyme reigned also in Thessayle, (A parte of Grece) the kyng Melizyus, That was ryght strong and fierce in battaile; By whose laboure, as the story sheweth us, He brake first horses wilde and rigorious, Teaching his men on them ryght well to ryde, And he hym selfe did fyrst the horse bestryde.
Also Mynerve, the ryght hardy goddese In the same time of so hyghe renowne, Vainquished Pallas by her great worthynes, And first made harneys, to laye his pryde adowne: Whose great defence in every realme and towne Was spredde about for her hye chyvalrye, Whiche by her harneys wanne the victorye.
Doth not remayne yet in remembraunce The famous actes of the noble Hercules, That so many monsters put to utteraunce By his great wisdome and hye prowes? As the recule of Troye beareth good witnes; That in his time he would no battayle take But for the wealth of the commens sake.
Thus the whole myndes were ever fixt and set Of noble men in olde tyme to devyse Suche thynges as were to the comeyn proffet; For in that tyme suche was their goodly guyse, That after dethe theyr fame should aryse, For to endure and abyde in mynde, As yet in bokes we may them wrytten fynde.
O ye estates surmountynge in noblenesse, Remember well the noble paynyms all, How by theyr labour they wanne the hyenesse Of worthy fame to raygne memoryall, And them applyed ever, in specyall, Thynges to practyse whiche should profyte be To the comyn welthe and their heyres in fee.
CAP. II. OF THE SWETE REPORTE OF FAME OF THE FAYRE LADY LA BELL PUCELL IN THE TOURE OF MUSYCKE.
And after thys, Fame gan to expresse Of jeoperdous way to the toure peryllous, And of the beaute and the semelynesse Of La Bel Pucell; so gaye and gloryous, That dwelled in the toure so marveylous; Unto whyche might come no maner of creature, But by great laboure and harde adventure.
For by the way theyr lye in wayte Gyauntes great, dysfigured of nature, That all devoureth by theyr yll conceyte; Agaynst whose streingth there may no man endure, They are so huge and stroonge out of measure; Wyth many serpentes foule and odyous, In sundry lykenesse blacke and tedyous.
But behynde them a great see there is, Beyonde whyche see there is a goodly lande Most full of fruyte replete wyth joye and blysse. Of ryght fyne golde appereth all the sande In this fayre realme, where the tower doth stand, Made all of golde, enameled aboute Wyth noble storyes whyche do appere wythout.