Xxviii

Long time they thus together traveiled, Till weary of their way, they came at last Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast, And their greene leaves trembling with every blast, Made a calme shadow far in compasse round: The fearfull Shepheard often there aghast Under them never sat, ne wont there sound° His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' unlucky ground.