Thus fairely shee attempered her feast,
And pleasd them all with meete satiety :
At last, when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,
She Guyon deare besought of curtesie

To tell from whence he came through ieopardy,
And whether now on new adventure bownd:
Who with bold grace, and comely gravity,
Drawing to him the eies of all arownd,

From lofty siege began these words aloud to sownd.

"This tby demaund, O lady, doth revive
Fresh memory in me of that great queene,
Great and most glorious virgin queene alive,
That with her soveraine power, and scepter shene,
All Faery lond does peaceably sustene.
In widest ocean she her throne does reare,
That over all the earth it may be seene;

As morning Sunne her beames dispredden cleare; And in her face faire peace and mercy doth appeare.

In her the richnesse of all heavenly grace
In chiefe degree are heaped up on hye:
And all, that els this worlds enclosure bace
Hath great or glorious in mortall eye,
Adores the person of her maiestye;
That men, beholding so great excellence
And rare perfection in mortalitye,
Doe her adore with sacred reverence,

As th' idole of her Makers great magnificence.

"To her I homage and my service owe,
In number of the noblest knightes on ground,
Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestowe
Order of Maydenhead, the most renownd,
That may this day in all the world be found.
An yearely solemne feast she wontes to make,
The day that first doth lead the yeare around,
To which all knights of worth and courage bold
Resort, to heare of straunge adventures to be told.

"There this old palmer shewd himselfe that day,
And to that mighty princesse did complaine
Of grievous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay
Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,
Whereof he crav'd redresse. My soveraine,
Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes
Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,
Eftsoones devisd redresse for such annoyes:
Me, all unfitt for so great purpose, she employes.

"Now hath faire Phebe with her silver face
Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,
Sith last I left that honorable place,
In which her roiall presence is entrold;
Ne ever shall I rest in house nor hold,
Till I that false Acrasia have wonne;

Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to bee told,
I witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne
Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne."

"Tell on, fayre sir," said she, "that dolefull tale,
From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,
That we may pitty such unhappie bale,
And learne from Pleasures poyson to abstaine :
Ill, by ensample, good doth often gayne."
Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,
And told the story of the mortall payne,
Which Mordant and Amavia did rew;

As, with lamenting eyes, himselfe did lately vew.

Night was far spent; and now in ocean deep
Orion, flying fast from hissing Snake,
His flaming head did hasten for to steep,
When of his pitteous tale he end did make:
Whilst with delight of that he wisely spake
Those guestes beguyled did beguyle their eyes
Of kindly sleepe, that did them overtake.
At last, when they had markt the chaunged skyes,
They wist their houre was spent ; then each to rest
him hyes.

CANTO III.

Vaine Braggadocchio, getting Guy-
ons horse, is made the scorne
Of knighthood trew; and is of fayre
Belphœbe fowle forlorne.

SOONE as the morrow fayre with purple beames
Disperst the shadowes of the misty night,
And Titan, playing on the eastern streames,
Gan cleare the deawy ayre with springing light;
Sir Guyon, mindfull of his vow yplight,
Uprose from drowsie couch, and him addrest
Unto the journey which he had behight:
His puissant armes about his noble brest,

And many-folded shield he bound about his wrest.

Then, taking congè of that virgin pure,
The bloody-handed babe unto her truth
Did earnestly committ, and her conjure
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,
And all that gentle uoriture ensu'th;
And that, so soone as ryper yeares he raught,
He might, for memory of that dayes ruth,
Be called Ruddymane; and thereby taught
T" avenge his parents death on them that had it
wrought.

So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,
Sith his good steed is lately from him gone;
Patience perforce: helplesse what may it boot
To frett for anger, or for griefe to mone?
His palmer now shall foot no more alone.
So fortune wrought, at under greene woodes syde
He lately heard that dying lady grone,
He left his steed without, and speare besyde,
And rushed it on foot to ayd her ere she dyde.

The whyles a losell wandring by the way,
One that to bountie never cast his mynd,
Ne thought of honour ever did assay
His baser brest, but in his kestrell kynd
A pleasing vaine of glory he did fynd,
To which his flowing toung and troublous spright
Gave him great ayd, and made him more inclynd;
He, that brave steed there finding ready dight,
Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full
light.

Till that they come unto a forrest greene, [feare;
In which they shrowd themselves from causeles
Yet feare them followes still, where so they beene:
Each trembling leafe and whistling wind they heare,
As ghastly bug, does greatly them affeare:
Yet both doe strive their fearfulnesse to faine.
At last they heard a horne that shrilled cleare
Throughout the wood that ecchoed agame,
And made the forrest ring, as it would rive in twaine.

Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush;
With noyse whereof he from his loftie steed
Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush,
To hide his coward head from dying dreed.
But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed

Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped foorth
A goodly ladie clad in husters weed,
That seemd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance borne of heavenly birth.

Upon her eyelids many Graces sate,
Under the shadow of her even browes,
Working belgardes and amorous retrate;
And everie one her with a grace endowes,
And everie one with meekenesse to her bowes:

So glorious mirrbour of celestiall grace,
And soveraine moniment of mortall vowes,
How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face,

Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,
Which doe the temple of the gods support,
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festivall resort;

Those same with stately grace and princely port
She taught to tread, when she herselfe would grace;
But with the woody nymphes when she did play,
Or when the flying libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,
And at her backe a bow and quiver gay,
Stuft with steel-headed dartes wherew ́h she queld
The salvage beastes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest, and did divide
Her daintie paps; which, like young fruit in May,
Now little gan to swell, and being tide
Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre,
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And, when the winde emongst them did inspyre,
They waved like a penon wyde despred,
And low behinde her backe were scattered:
And, whether art it were or heedlesse hap,
As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,
In her rude heares sweet flowres themselves did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaves and blossomes did en-
wrap.

Such as Diana by the sandy shore
Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,
Where all the nymphes have her unwares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,
To seeke her game: or as that famous queene
Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,
The day that first of Priame she was seene,
Did shew herselfe in great triumphant joy,
To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.

Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew,
He was dismayed in his coward minde,
And doubted whether he himselfe should shew,
Or fly away, or bide alone behinde;

Both feare and hope he in her face did finde:
When she at last him spying thus bespake; [hynde,
Hayle, groome; didst not thou see a bleeding

grace!

So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire,
She seemd, when she presented was to sight;
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,
All in a silken Camus lilly whight,
Purfled upon with many a folded plight,
Which all above besprinckled was throughout
With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,

Like twinckling starres; and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fr nge.

If thou didst, tell me, that I may her overtake."

Wherewith reviv'd, this answere forth he threw;
"O goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)
For nether doth thy face terrestriall shew,
Nor voyce sound mortall; I avow to thee,
Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.
But mote thy goodlyhed forgive it mee,
To weete which of the gods I shall thee name,
That unto thee dew worship I may rightly frame."

To whom she thus-But ere her words ensewd,
Unto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewd,
And saw it stirre: she lefte her percing launce,
And towards gan a deadly shafte advaunce,
In minde to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,
Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying; "O! whatever hevenly powre,
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre!

"O! stay thy hand; for yonder is no game
For thy fiers arrowes, them to exercize;
But loe! my lord, my liege, whose warlike name
Is far renownd through many bold emprize;
And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies."
She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,
Forth creeping on his caitive hands and thies;
And standing stoutly up his lofty crest [rest.
Did fiercely shake, and rowze as comming late from

As fearfull fowle, that long in secret cave
For dread of soring hauke herselfe hath hid,
Not caring how, her silly life to save,
She her gay painted plumes disorderid;
Seeing at last herselfe from daunger rid,
Peeps forth, and soone renews her native pride;
She gins her feathers fowle disfigured
Prowdly to prune, and sett on every side; [hide.
She shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her

So when her goodly visage he beheld,
He gan himselfe to vaunt: but, when he vewd
Those deadly tooles which in her hand she held,
Soone into other fitts he was transmewd,
Till she to him her gracious speach renewd;
"All haile, sir Knight, and well may thee befall,
As all the like, which honor have pursewd
Through deeds of armes and prowesse martiall!
All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.

To whom he thus; "O fairest under skie,
Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,
That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.
Therein I have spent all my youthly daies,
And many battailes fought and many fraies
Throughout the world, wherso they might be found,
Endevoring my dreaded name to raise
Above the Moone, that Fame may it resound
In her eternall tromp with laurell girlond cround.

"But what art thou, O lady, which doest raunge
In this wilde forest, where no pleasure is,
And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,
Emongst thine equall peres, where happy blis
And all delight does raigne much more than this?
There thou maist love, and dearly loved be,
And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;
There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fitt for thee."

Which when the pesaunt saw, amazd he stood,
And grieved at her flight; yet durst he not
Pursew her steps through wild unknowen wood;
Besides he feard her wrath, and threatened shott,
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgott:
Ne card he greatly for her presence vayne,
But turning said to Trompart; "What fowle blott
Is this to knight, that lady should agayne
Depart to woods untoucht, and leave so proud dis-
dayne!"

"Perdy," said Trompart, "lett her pas at will,
Least by her presence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)
But that shee is some powre celestiall?
For, whiles she spake, her great words did appall
My feeble corage, and my heart oppresse,
That yet I quake and tremble over all."
"And I," said Braggadocchio, "thought no lesse,
When first I heard her horn sound with such ghast-
linesse.

"For from my mothers wombe this grace I have Me given by eternail destiny,

That earthly thing may not my corage brave
Dismay with feare, or cause one foote to flye,
But either hellish feends, or powres on hye:
Which was the cause, when earst that horne I
heard,

Weening it had beene thunder in the skye,
I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;
But, when I other knew, my self I boldly reard.

"But now, for feare of worse that may betide,
Let us soone hence depart." They soone agree:
So to his steed he gott, and gan to ride
As one unfitt therefore, that all might see
He had not trayned bene in chevalree.
Which well that valiaunt courser did discerne ;
For he despisd to tread in dew degree,

But chaufd and fom'd with corage fiers and sterne,
And to be easd of that base burden still did erne.

CANTO IV.

Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,

And stops Occasion:
Delivers Phaon, and therefore

By Strife is rayld uppon.

Is brave poursuitt of honorable deed,
There is I know not what great difference
Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,
Which unto things of valorous pretence
Seemes to be borne by native influence;
As feates of armes; and love to entertaine:
But chiefly skill to ride seemes a science
Proper to gentle blood: some others faine

And sure he was a man of mickle might,
Had he had governaunce it well to guyde:
But, when the frantick fitt inflamd his spright,
His force was vaine, and strooke more often wyde
Then at the aymed marke which he had eyde:
And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt unwares,
Whylest reason, blent through passion, nought des-
But, as a blindfold bull, at random fares, [cryde;
And where he hits nought knowes, and whom he
hurts nought cares.

His rude assault and rugged handëling

Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe
In fayre defence and goodly menaging

Of armes was wont to fight: yet nathëmoe
Was he abashed now, not fighting so;

vaine.

But he, the rightfull owner of that steede,
Who well could menage and subdew his pride,
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed
With that blacke palmer, his most trusty guide,
Who suffred not his wandring feete to slide;
But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse,
Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,
He would, through temperaunce and stedfastnesse,
Teach him the weak to strengthen, and the strong
suppresse.

It fortuned, forth faring on his way,
He saw from far, or seemed for to see,
Some troublous uprore or contentious fray,
Whereto be drew in hast it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the heare along upon the grownd
A bandsom stripling with great crueltee,
Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many a wownd,
That cheekes with teares, and sydes with blood, did
all abound.

And him behynd a wicked hag did stalke,
In ragged robes and filthy disaray;
Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke,
But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay:
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,
Grew all afore, and loosly hong unrold;
But all behinde was bald, and worne away,
That none thereof could ever taken hold;

Him sternly grypt, and, hailing to and fro,
To overthrow him strongly did assay,
But overthrew himselfe unwares, and lower lay:

And being downe the villein sore did beate
And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face:
And eke the hag, with many a bitter threat,
Still cald upon to kill him in the place.
With whose reproch, and odious menace,
The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart
Knitt all his forces, and gan soone unbrace
His grasping hold: so lightly did upstart,
And drew his deadly weapon to maintaine his part,
Which when the palmer saw, he loudly cryde,
"Not so, O Guyon, never thinke that so
That monster can be maistred or destroyd:
He is not, ah! he is not such a foe,

As steele can wound, or strength can overthroe.
That same is Furor, cursed cruel wight,
That unto knighthood workes much shame and woe;
And that same hag, his aged mother, hight
Occasion; the roote of all wrath and despight.

"With her, whoso will raging Furor tame,
Must first begin, and well her amenage:
First her restraine from her reprochfull blame
And evill meanes, with which she doth enrage
Her frantick sonne, and kindles his coráge;
Then, when she is withdrawne or strong withstood,
It's eath his ydle fury to aswage,

And calm the tempest of his passion wood:

And, ever as she went, her toung did walke
1 fowle reproch and termes of vile despight,
Provoking him, by her outrageous talke,

To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight:
Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite;
Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,
Withouten which she could not goe upright;
Ne any evil meanes she did forbeare, [reare.
That might him move to wrath, and indignation

The noble Guyon, mov'd with great remorse,
Approching, first the hag did thrust away;
And after, adding more impetuous forse,
His mighty hands did on the madman lay,
And pluckt him backe; who, all on fire streightway,
Against him turning all his fell intent,
With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,

And smott, and bitt, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,
And did he wist not what in his avengëment.

Therewith sir Guyon left his first emprise,
And, turning to that woman, fast her hent
By the hoare lockes that hong before her eyes,
And to the ground her threw: yet n'ould she stent
Her bitter rayling and foule révilement;
But still provokt her sonne to wreake her wrong:
But nathëlesse he did her still torment,
And, catching hold of her ungratious tong,
Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and strong.

Then, whenas use of speach was from her reft,
With her two crooked handes she signes did. make,
And beckned him; the last help she had left:
But he that last left helpe away did take,
And both her handes fast bound unto a stake,
That she no'te stirre. Then gan her sonne to flye
Full fast away, and did her quite forsake:
But Guyon after him in hast did hye,
And soone him overtooke in sad perplexitye.