Part III

Ascension

“How oft do they their silver bowers leave

To come to succour us that succour want;

How oft do they with golden pinions cleave

The flitting skies like flying pursuivant

Against foul fiends to aid us militant.

They for us fight, they watch and duly ward

And their bright squadrons round us plant;

And all for love and nothing for reward.

Oh, why should heavenly love to men have such regard?”

—Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen