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Now when that ydle Dreame was to him brought, “ Love of yourselfe," she saide, “and deare conUnto that Eltin knight be bad him fly,
straint, Where he slept soundly void of evil thought, Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie night And with false shewes abuse his fantasy ;
In secret anguish and unpittied plaint, In sort as he him sehooleri privily.
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight." And that new creature, borne without her dew, Her doubtfull words made that redoubted hu xht Full of the makers guyle, with usage sly
Suspect her truth; yet since no’untruth he knew, He taught to imitate that lady trew,
Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew. He would not shend; but said, “ Deare dame, I rew,
That for my sake unknowne such griete unto you Thus, well instructed, to their worke they haste;
grew: And, comming where the knight in slomber lay, The one upon his hardie head him plaste,
“ Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; And made him dreame of loves and lustfull play;
For all so deare, as life is to my hart, That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound : Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy.
Ne let vaine fears procure your needlesst smart, Then seemed him his lady by bim lay,
Where cause is none; but to your rest depart." And to him playod, how that false winged boy Not all content, yet seernd she to appease Her chaste bart had subdewd to learne dame Plea- Hier mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art, sures toy.
And fed with words, that could not chose but please: And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne queene,
So, slyding softly forth, she turud as to her ease. Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to bring Her, whom he, waking, evermore did weene
Long after lay he musing at her mood, To bee the chastest flowre that aye did spring
Much grier'd to thinke that gentle dame so light, On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
For whose defence he was to shid bis blood. Now a loose leman to vile service bound:
At last dull wearines of former fight And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright, Hyner lo Hymen, dauncing all around;
That troublous Dreame gan freshly tosse his braine Whyist freshest Flora ber with yvie girlond crownd. With bow res, and beds, and ladies deare delight:
But, when he saw his labour all was vaine, In this great passion of unwonted lust,
With that misformed spright he backe returnd Of Fonted feare of doing ought amis,
The guilefull great enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse knight from Truth: Must like that virgin true, which for her knight him Into whose stead faire Falshood steps,
And workes him woefuli ruth. All cleane dismayd to see so úncouth sight, And haife enraged at ber shamelesse guise, By this the northerne wagoner had set He thought have slaine her in his fierce despight; His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre But, hastie heat tempring with suflerance wise, That was in ocean waves yet never wet, He stayde bis band; and gan himselfe advise But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre To prore his sense, and tempt her faigned truth. To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre; Wringing ber hands, in wemens pitteous wise, And chearefull cbaunticlere with his note sbrill Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth
Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre Botha for her noble blood, and for her tender youth. In hast was climbing up the easterne hill,
Full envious that light so long bis roome did fill : And sayd, “ Ah, sir, my liege lord, and my love, Shall I accuse the hidden crue'l fate,
When those accursed messengers of Hell, And mightie causes wrought in Heaven above, That feigning Dreame, and that faire-forged spright, Or the blind god, that doth me thus amate, Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell For hoped love to winne me certaine hate? Their bootelesse paines, and ill-succeeding night: Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
Who, all in rage to see his skilfull might De is my dew; yet rew my wretched state, Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine Yer whom my hard avenging destinie
And sad Prosérpines wrath, them to affright. Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently: But, when he saw his threatning was but vaine,
He cast about, and searcht his baleful bokes againe. " Your Owne deare sake forst me at first to leave Myfathers kingdom”—There she stopt with teares; Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated Faire, Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave; And that false other spright, on whom he spred
And then againe begun; “ My weaker yeares, A seeming body of the subtile aire,
Fr to your fayth for succour and sure ayde: His wanton daies that ever loosely led,
(frayd?” Covered with darkenes and misdeeming night, What frases ye, that were wont to comfort me af- Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.
Forthwith he runnes with feigned-faithfull hast But now seemde best the person to put on
Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:-
But he, the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare, All in a maze he suddenly up start
The true Saint George, was wandred far away, With sword in hand, and with the old man went ;
Still Aying from his thoughts and gealous feare: Who soone him brought into a secret part,
Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray. Where that false couple were full closely ment At last him chaunst to meete upon the way In wanton lust and leud enbracëment:
A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde to point, Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire;
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay The eie of reason was with rage yblent ;
Sans foy; full large of I'mbe and every joint And would have slaine them in his furious ire,
He was, and cared not for God or man a point. But hardly was restreined of that aged Retourning to his bed in torment great,
Hee had a faire companion of his way, And bitter anguish of his guilty sight,
A goodly lady clad in scarlot red, He could not rest; but did his stout heart eat,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay;
And like a Persian mitre on her hed
Shee wore, with crowns and owches garnished, At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
The which her lavish lovers to her gave :
Her wanton palfrey all was overspred
Whose bridle rung with golden beds and bosses brave. Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,
With faire disport, and courting dalliaunce, Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,
She intertainde her lover all the way: Had spread her purple robe through deawy aire ;
But, when she saw the knight bis speare advaunce, And the high hils Titan discovered ;
Shee sonne left off her mirth and wanton play, The royall virgin shooke off drousyhed:
And bad her knight addresse him to the fray; And, rising forth out of her baser bowre,
His foe was nigh at hand. He, prickte with pride, Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
And hope to winne his ladies hearte that day, And for her dwarfe, that wont to waite cach howre:
Forth spurred fast; adowne his coursers side [ride. Then gan she wail and weepe to see that woeful The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did stowre.
The knight of the Redcrosse, when him he spide And after him she rode with so much speede, Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous, As her slowre beast could make; but all in vaine: Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride: For him so far had borne his light-foot steede, Soore meete they both, both fell and furious, Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine, That, daunted with their forces hideous, That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine: Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand; Yet she her weary limbes would never rest; And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous, But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine, Astonied with the stroke of their owne band, Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, Doe backe rebutte, and each to other yealdeth land. He so ungently left her, whome she loved best.
As when two rams, stird with ambitious pride, But subtill Archimago, when his guests
Fight for the rule of the rich-fleeced focke, He saw divided into double parts,
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side And Una wandring in woods and forrésts,
Doe meete, that, with the terrour of the shocke (Th' end of his drift,) he praised his divelish arts, Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a blocke, That had such might over true-meaning harts: Forgetfull of the hanging victory: Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make, So stood these twaine, inmoved as a rocke, How he may worke unto her further smarts: Both staring fierce, and holding idëly For ber he hated as the hissing snake,
The broken reliques of their former cruelty. And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.
The Sarazin, sore daunted with the buffe, He then devisde himselfe how to disguise ; Snatcheth bis sword, and fiercely to him flies; For by his mighty science he could take
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff: As many formes and shapes in seeming wise, Each others equall puissannce envíes, As ever Proteus to himselfe could make:
And through their iron sides with cruell spies Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake, Does seeke to perce; repining courage yields Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell;
No foote to foe: the flashing fiër flies, That of himselse he ofte for feare would quake, As from a forge, out of their burning shields; And oft would fie away. O who can tell [spell! And streams of purple bloud new die the verdan The hidden powre of herbes, and might of magick fields,
" Carse on that crosse," quoth then the Sarazin, *** At last it channced this proud Sarazin " That keeps thy body from the bitter fitt; To meete me wandring; who perforce me led Dead long y goe, I wote, thou baddest bin,
With him away ; but yet could never win Had pot that cbarme from thee forwarned itt: The fort, that ladies hold in soveraigne dread. But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,
There lies be now with foule dishonor diad, And hide thy head.” Therewith upon his crest Who, while he livde, was called proud Sansfoy, With rigor so outrageous he smitt,
The eldest of three brethren; all three bred That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sansioy; (slov. And glaupcing downe his shield from blame him And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Saufairly blest.
“ In this sad plight, friendlese, unfortunate, Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
Now in serable I Fidessa dwell, Of natire vertue gan eftsoones revive;
Craving of you, in pitty of my state, And, at bis haughty helmet making mark,
To doe none ill, if please ye not dor well.” So hugely stroke, that it the steele did rive,
He in great passion all this while did dwell, And cleft his head: he, tumbling downe alive,
More busying his quicke eies, her face to view, With bloudy mouth his mother Earth did kis,
Then his dull eares, to heare what shee did tell; Greeting his grave: his grudging ghost did strive
And said, “ Faire lady, hart of int would rew With the fraile flesh; at last it fitted is,
The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which ye shew. Whether the soules doe sy of men, that live amis.
“ Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, The lady, when she saw her champion fall,
Having boch found a new friend you to aid, Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
And lost an old fue that did you inolest: Staid not to waile his woefull funerall;
Better new friend then an old foe is said." But from him filed away with all her powre :
With chaunge of clear the seeming- mple maid Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
Let fal her eien, as shamefast, to the earth, Bidding the dwarfe with him to bring away
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gainsaid. The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure :
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth, Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay:
And shee coy loukes: so dainty, they say, maketh For present cause was done of dread her to dismay.
derth. Shee turning backe, with ruefull countenaunce,
Long time they thus together traveiled; Cride, “ Mercy, mercy, sir, vouchsafe to show
Til, weary of their way, they came at last On silly dame, subject to hard mischaunce,
Where grew tuo goodiy trees, that faire did spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mouse orercast; And to your mighty will.” Her hamblesse low
And their gre ne leares, trembling with every blast, In so ritch weedes, and seeming glorious show,
Made a calme shadowe far in compasse round: Did much emmove his stoot heroicke heart; And said, “ Deare dame, your suddein overthrow
The fearefull shepheard, often there aybast, Much rueth me; but now put feare apart, (part." His mery oaten pipe; but shund th' unlucky ground.
Under them never sat, ne wont there sound And tel, both who ye be, and who that tooke your
But this good knight, soone as he them can spie, Velting in teares, then gan shee thus lament;
For the coole shade him thither hastly got: “ The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre For golden Phoebus, now vmounted hie, Hath now made thrall to your commandëment, From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot Before that angry Heavens list to lowre,
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell bot, And fortume false betraide me to your powre, That living creature mote it not ab.de; Was, (O what now availeth that I was!)
And bis new lady it endured not. Borne the sole daughter of an emperuur;
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide He that the wide west under his rule has,
From the fierce heat, and rest their wearylımbs a tide. And bigh hath set his throne where Tiberis doth pas.
Paire-seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, * He, in the first Aowre of my freshest age, With goodiy purposes, there as they sit; Betrothed me unto the onely haire
And in his falsed fancy he her takes Of a most mighty king, must rich and sage; To be the fairest wignt, that lived yit; Was never prince so faithfull and so faire, Which to expresse, he bends bis gentle wit; Was never prince so meeke and debonaire! And, thinking of those braunches greene to frame But, ere my hoped day of spousall sbone,
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit, My dearest lord fell from high honors staire He pluckt a bough; o'it of whose ritte there came Into the hands of hys accursed fone,
Sinal drops of gory bloud, that trichled down the And cruelly was slaine; that shall I ever mone!
same. “ His blessed body, spoild of lively breath,
Therewith a piteous velling voice was heard, Was afterward, I know not bow, convaid,
Crying, “O spare with guilty hands to teare And fro me hid; of whose most innocent death My tender sides in this rough rynd embard; When tidings came to mee unhappy maid, But fly, ah! Ay far hence away, for feare 0, how great sorrow my sad soule assaid ! Least to you bap, that happened to me heare, Then forth I went his woefull corse to fud, And to this wretched lady, my deare love; And many yeares throughout the world I straid, O too deare love, love bought with death too deare!" A virgin widow; whose deepe-wounded mind Astond he stood, and up his heare did hove; With love long time did languish, as the striken hind. And with that suddein horror could no member move. spare ?"
At last whenas the dreadfull passion
“ Then cride she out, ‘Fye, fye, deformed wight, Was overpast, and manhood well awake;
Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
To have before bewitched all mens sight: And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake: O leave her soone, or let her soone be slaine !' “ What voice of damned ghost from Limbo lake, Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine, Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire, Eftsoones I thought her sucb as she me told, (Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake) And would have kild her; but with faigned paine Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare, The false witch did my wrathfull hand withhold: And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse blood to So left her, where she now is turnd to treën mould.
“ Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my dame, Then, groning deep; “Nor damned ghost,"quoth he, And in the witch unweeting ioyd long time; “Nor guileful sprite, to thee these wordsdoth speake; Ne ever wist, but that she was the same: But once a man Fradubio, now a tree;
Till on a day (that day is everie prime, Wretched man, wretched tree! whose nature weake When witches wont do penance for their crime,) A cruell witch, her cursed will to wreake,
I chaunst to see her in her proper hew, Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme :
A filthy foule old woman I did vew,
“ Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous,
Were hidd in water, that I could not see; “ Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree," Quoth then the knight; “ by whose mischievous arts Then womans shape man would beleeve to bee.
But they did seeme more foule and hideous, Art thou misshaped thus, as vow I see?
Thensforth from her most beastly companie He oft finds med'cine who his griefe imparts;
I gan refraine, in minde to slipp away, But double griefs amict concealing harts;
Soone as appeard safe opportunitie: As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.”
For danger great, if not assurd decay, “ The author then," said he, “ of all my smarts,
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray. Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse,
[nesse. That many errant knights bath broght to wretched
“ The direlish hag, by chaunges of my cheare, “ In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hott
Perceiv'd my thought; and, drownd in sleepie night, The fire of love and joy of chevalree
With wicked herbes and oyntments did besmeare First kindled in my brest, it was my lott
My body, all through charmes and magicke might, To love this gentle lady, whome ye see
That all my senses were bereaved quight: Now pot a lady, but a seeming tree;
Then brought she me into this desert waste," With whome as once I rode accompanyde,
And by my wretched lovers side me pight; Me chaunced of a knigbt encountred bee,
Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste, That had a like faire lady by his syde;
Banisht from living wights, our wearie daies we
waste." Lyke a faire lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde; “ Whose forged beauty he did take in hand
“But how long time," said then the Elfin knight,
Are All other dames to have exceded farre ;
in this misformed hous to dwell ?"
you I in defence of mine did likewise stand,
“ We may not chaunge," quoth he, “ this evill Mine, that did then shine as the morning starre.
Till we be bathed in a living well: [plight, So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre;
That is the terme prescribed by the spell." In which his harder fortune was to fall
“O how," sayd he, “mote I that well out find, Under my speare; such is the dye of warre.
That may restore you to your wonted well ?”
“ Time and suffised fates to former kynd [bynd.” His lady, left as a prise martiall, Did yield her comely person to be at my call.
Shall us restore ; none else from hence may us un“ So doubly lov'd of ladies unlike faire,
The false Duessa, now fidessa hight, Th’ one seeming such, the other such indeede,
Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,
And knew well all was true. One day in doubt I cast for to compare
But the good knight, Whether in beauties glorie did exceede;
Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment, A rosy girlond was the victors meede.
When all this speech the living tree had spent, Both seemde to win, and both secmde won to bee; That from the blood he might be innocent,
The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground, So hard the discord was to be agreede. Frælissa was as faire, as faire mote bee,
And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound: And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as shee. Then turning to hiş lady, dead with feare her fownd. “ The wicked witch, now seeing all this while Her seeming dead he fownd with feigned feare, The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,
As all unweeting of that well she knew; What not by right, she cast to win by guile; And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare And, by her hellish science, raisd streight way Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eyelids blew, A foggy mist that overcast the day,
And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew, And a dull blast that breathing on her face At last she up gan lift; with trembling cheare Dimmed ber former beauties shining ray,
Her up he tooke, (too simple and too trew) And with foule ugly forme did her disgrace: And oft ber kist. At length, all passed feare, Then was she fayre alone, when none was faire in He set her on her steede, and forward forth did place.
“ The lyon, lord of everie beast in field,” CANTO III.
Quoth she, “his priucely puissance doth abate,
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, Forsaken Truth long seekes her love,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate :-
But he, my lyon, and my noble lord,
How does be find in cruell hart to bate
Her, that him lov'd, and ever most adord
As the god of my life? why hath be ine abhord ?" Nought is there under Heav'ns wide hollownesse, That moves more deare compassion of mind, Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint, Then beautie brought t’unworthie wretchednesse Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood; Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind. And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint, 1, whether lately through her brightnes blynd, The kingly beast upon her gazing stood; Or through alleageance, and fast fealty,
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood. Which I do owe unto all womankynd,
At last, in close hart shutting up her payne, Feele my hart perst with so great agony,
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood, When such I see, that all for pitty I could dy. And to her snowy palfrey got arayne,
To seeke her strayed champion if she might attayne. And now it is empassioned so deepe, For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing,
The lyon would not leave her desolate,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king, of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:
With humble service to her will prepard :
And ever by her lookes conceived her intent. Yet she, most faithfull ladie, all this while Long she thus traveiled through deserts wyde, Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,
By which she thought her wandring knight shold Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,
pas, In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, Yet never shew of living wight espyde; To seeke ber knight; who, subtily betrayd Till that at length she found the troden gras, Through that late vision which th' enchaunter in which the tract of peoples footing was, wrought,
Under the steepe foot of a mountaine hore : Had her abandond: she, of nought affrayd, The same she followes, till at last she has Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought; | A damzel spyde slow-footing her before, Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her brought. That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore. One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, To whom approching she to her gan call, From her unhastie beast she did alight;
To wert, if dwelling place were nigh at hand : And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay But the rude wench ber answerd nought at all; In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight; She could not heare, nor speake, nor understand : From her fayre head her fillet she undigut, Till, seeing by her side the lyon stand, And layd her stole aside: her angels face, With suddein feare her pitcher downe she threw, As the great eye of Heaven, shyned bright, And Aed away: for never in that land And made a sunshine in the shady place; Face of fayre lady she before did vew, Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace. And that dredd lyons looke her cast in deadly hew. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood
Full fast she fled, ne ever lookt behynd, A ramping lyon rushed suddeinly,
As if her life upon the water lay; Hunting full greedy after salvage blood :
And home she came, whereas her mother blond Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,
Sate in eternall night ; nought could she say; With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
But, suddeine catching hold, did her dismay To bare attonce devourd her tender corse:
With quaking hands, and other signes of feare: But to the pray when as he drew more ny, Who, full of ghastly fright and cold affray, His bloody rage aswaged with remorse,
Gan shut the dore. By this arrived there And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. Dame Una, weary dame, and entrance did requere: Instead thereof be kist her wearie feet,
Which when none yielded, her unruly page And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong; With his rude clawes the wicket open rent, As he ber wronged innocence did weet.
And let her in ; where, of his cruell rage O how can beautie maister the most strong, Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Shee found them both in darksome corner pent: Whose yielded pryde and proud submission, Where that old woman day and night did pray Still dreading death, when she had marked long, Upon her beads, devoutly peniteut: Her hart gan melt in great compassion ;
Nine hundred Pater nosters every day, And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. And thrise nine hundred Aves she was wont to say.