Tho gathering up the relicks of his smart,
By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend,
Them brought to Aesculape, that by his art 350
Did heale them all againe, and joyned every part.
XL
Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine
When Jove avizd, that could the dead revive,
And fates expired[*] could renew againe,
Of endlesse life he might him not deprive, 355
But unto hell did thrust him downe alive,
With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore:
Where long remaining, he did alwaies strive
Himselfe with salves to health for to restore,
And slake the heavenly fire, that raged evermore. 360
XLI
There auncient Night arriving, did alight
From her nigh wearie waine, and in her armes
To Aesculapius brought the wounded knight:
Whom having softly disarayd of armes,
Tho gan to him discover all his harmes, 365
Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,
If either salves, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes
A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise,
He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.
XLII
Ah Dame (quoth he) thou temptest me in vaine, 370
To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew,
And the old cause of my continued paine
With like attempt to like end to renew.
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