Xxxii

Such joy made Una, when her knight she found; And eke th' enchaunter joyous seemd no lesse, Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground° His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse, He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse: So forth they past, and all the way they spent Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse, In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment: Who told her all that fell in journey as she went.