Me thought I saw the grave where she lay
Within that Temple, where the vestal flame
Was won’t to burne, and passing by that way.
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb faire love, and fairer vertue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Faerie Qveene:
At whose approach the soul of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth those graces were not seen.
For they this Qveene attended, in whose steed
Obliuion laid him down on her herse:
Here at the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heruens did perse.
Where he spright did tremble all for grief.
And curst th’accesse of that celestial thief

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