I

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold The righteous man, to make him daily fall, Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold, And stedfast truth acquite him out of all. Her love is firme, her care continuall, So oft as he through his owne foolish pride, Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall: Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dydd For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thither guide.