Our cure, to be no more; sad cure!
Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens take his pleasure.
Tears such as angels weep.
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.