But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands,
Nor noyons smell, his purpose could withhold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands)
But that with constant zele and corage bold,
After long paines and labors manifold,

He found the meanes that prisoner up to reare;
Whose feeble thighes, unable to uphold

His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare; A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere.

His sad dull e es, deepe sunck in hollow pits,
Could not endure th' unwonted Sunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty sides deceived of their dew,
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;
His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to rive steele plates, and helmets hew,
Were clene consum'd; and all his vital powres
Decayd; and al his flesh shronk up like withered
flowres.

Whome when his lady saw, to him she ran
With hasty joy: to see him made her glad,
And sad to view his visage pale and wan;
Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad.
Tho, when her well of teares she wasted had,
She said; "Ah, dearest lord! what evil starre
On

you hath frownd, and pourd his influence bad, That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre, [marre? And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth

"But welcome now, my lord in wele or woe;
Whose presence I have lackt too long a day:
And fye on Fortune mine avowed foe,
Whose wrathful wreakes themselves doe now alay;
And for these wronges shall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe."
The chearlesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
His long endured famine needed more reliefe.

"Faire lady," then said that victorious knight,
"The things, that grievous were to doe, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare:
But th' only good, that growes of passed feare,
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This daies ensample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.

"Henceforth, sir knight, take to you wonted strength,
And master these mishaps with patient might :
Loe, where your foe lies stretcht in monstrous length;
And loe, that wicked woman in your sight,
The roote of all your care and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her live, or die."
"To doe her die," quoth Una, "were despight,
And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy;
But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly."

So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid,
And robd of roiall robes, and purple pall,
And ornaments that richly were displaid;
Ne spared they to strip her naked all.
Then, when they had despoyid her tire and call,
Such, as she was, their eies might her behold,
That her misshaped parts did them appall;
A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill favoured, old,
Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.

Her crafty head was altogether bald,
And, as in hate of honorable eld,
Was overgrowne with scurfe and filthy scald;
Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,
And her sowre breath abhominably smeld;
Her dried dugs, lyke bladders lacking wind,
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;
Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind, [kind.
So scabby was, that would have loathd all woman-

Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind,
My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write :
But at her rompe she growing had behind
A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight:
And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight;
For one of them was like an eagles claw,
With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight;
The other like a beares uneven paw:
More ugly shape yet never living creature saw.

Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.
"Such then," said Una, " as she seemeth here,
Such is the face of Falshood; such the sight
Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light
Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowue."
Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight,
And all her filthy feature open showne,
They let her goe at will, and wander waies unknowne.

Shee, flying fast from Heavens hated face,
And from the world that her discovered wide,
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,
From living eies her open shame to hide;
And lurkt in rocks and caves, long unespide.
But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire,
Did in that castle afterwards abide,

To rest themselves, and weary powres repaire:
Where store they fownd of al, that dainty was and

rare.

CANTO IX.

His loves and lignage Arthure tells : The knights knitt friendly bands: Sir Trevisan flies from Despeyre,

Whom Redcros knight withstands.

O! GOODLY golden chayne, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in lovely wize;
And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
In brave poursuitt of chevalrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid envy to him, in need that stands;
But friendly each did others praise devize,
How to advaunce w th favourable hands,
As this good prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight
from bands.

Who when their powres, empayred through labor
With dew repast they had recured well, [long,
And that weake captive wight now wexed strong;
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their adventures fell:
But, ere they parted, Una faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in thankles
thought.

Thine, O! then," said the gentle Redcrosse kaight, "Next to that ladies love, shal be the place, O fayrest virgin, full of heavenly light, Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race, Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case. And you, my lord, the patrone of my life, Of that great queene may we'l gaine worthie grace; For onely worthie you through prowes priefe, Yf living man mote worth.e be, to be her liefe."

So diversly discoursing of their loves,

The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
And sad remembraunce now the prince amoves
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew:
Als Una earnd her traveil to renew.
Then those two knights, fast frendship for to bynd,
And love establish each to other trew.
Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
And eke, as pledges firme, right hands together
ioynd.

Prince Arthur gave a boxe of diamond sure,
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament,
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure,
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wownd could heale incontinent.
Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gave
A booke, wherein his Saveours Testament
Was writt with golden letters rich and brave;
A worke of wondrous grace, and hable soules to save.

Thus beene they parted; Arthur on his way
To seeke his love, and th' other for to fight
With Unaes foe, that all her realme did pray.
But she, now weighing the decayed plight
And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight,
Would not a while her forward course pursew,
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight,
Till he recovered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew.

So as they traveild, lo! they gan espy`
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing, that him aghast.
Still, as he fledd, his eye was backward cast,
As if his feare still followed him behynd:
Als flew his steed, as he his bandes had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wynd,
As he had been a fole of Pegasus his kynd.

Nigh as he drew, they might perceive his head
To be unarmd, and curld uncombed heares
Upstaring stiffe, dismaid with uncouth dread:
Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares,
Nor life in limbe; and, to increase his feares,
In fowle reproch of knighthoodes fayre degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring armes does ill agree:
But he of rope, or armes, has now no memoree.

The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast,
To weet what mister wight was so dismayd:
There him he findes all sencelesse and aghast,
That of himselfe he seemd to be afrayd;
Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd,
Till he these wordes to him deliver might;
"Sir Knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight?
For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight."

| He answerd nought at all; but adding new
Feare to his first amazment, staring wyde
With stony eyes and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspyde
Infernall Furies with their chaines untyde.
Him yett againe, and yett againe, bespake
The gentle knight; who nought to him replyde;
But, trembling every ioynt, did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth
to shake;

"For Gods deare love, sir Knight, doe me not stay;
For loe! he comes, he comes fast after mee!"
Eft looking back would faine have runne away;
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secrete cause of his perplexitie:
Yet nathëmore by his bold hartie speach
Could his blood-frosen hart emboldned bee,
But through his boldnes rather feare did reach;
Yett, forst, at last he made through silence suddein
breach:

"And am I now in safetie sure," quoth he,
"From him, that would have forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this haplesse history?"

Fear nought," quoth he, "no daunger now is nye."
"Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,"
Said he, "the which with this unlucky eye
I late beheld; and, had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.

"I lately chaunst (would I had never chaunst!)
With a fayre knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe advaunst
In all affayres, and was both bold and free;
But not so happy as mote happy bee:
He lov'd, as was his lot, a lady gent,
That him againe lov'd in the least degree;
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioyd to see her lover languish and lament:
"From whom retourning sad and comfortlesse,
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen, (God from him me blesse!)
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of Hell, that calls himselfe Despayre:
Who first us greets, and after fayre areedes
Of tydinges straunge, and of adventures rare:
So creeping close, as snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.

"Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which Love had launched with his deadly darts;
With wounding words, and termes of foule repriefe,
He pluckt from us all hope of dew reliefe,
That earst us held in love of lingring life:
Then hopelesse, hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade us dye, to stint all further str fe;
To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife:

"With which sad instrument of hasty death,
That wofull lover, loathing lenger light,
A wyde way made to let forth living breath.
But I, more fearfull or more lucky wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fledd fast away, balfe dead with dying feare;
Ne yet assur'd of life by you, sir Knight,
Whose like infirmity like chaunce may beare:
But God you never let his charmed speaches heare!"

"Thou, wretched man, of death hast greatest need,
If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy state;
For never knight, that dared warlike deed,
More luckless dissaventures did amate:
Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shutt up for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date,
Yet death then would the like mishaps forestall,
Into the which hereafter thou maist happen fall.

"Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire
To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree?
Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
High heaped up with huge iniquitee,
Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this lady mild
Thou falsed hast thy faith with periuree,
And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vild,

Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but, soone reliv'd againe,
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him said; " Fie, fie, faint hearted knight,
What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?
Is this the battaile, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed dragon, horrible and bright?

"Come; come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight,
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy many hart,
Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright:
In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Where justice growes, there grows eke greater grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface:

"Is not he iust, that all this doth behold
From highest Heven, and beares an equall eie?
Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold,
And guilty be of thine impietie?

Is not his law, Let every sinner die,

Die shall all flesh? What then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,

Then linger till the glas be all out ronne ?
Death is the end of woes: die soone, O Faries sonne."

The knight was much enmoved with his speach,
That as a swords poynt through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secrete breach,
Well knowing trew all that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembraunce did reverse
The ugly vew of his deformed crimes;
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with enchaunted rimes;
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes.

In which amazement when the miscreaunt
Perceived him to waver weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience daunt,
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile;
To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
Hee shewd him painted in a table plaine
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile,
And thousand feends, that doe them endlesse paine
With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall remaine.

The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid,
That nought but death before his eies he saw,
And ever burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law.
Then gan the villein him to overcraw,
And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire:
For death was dew to him, that had provokt Gods
ire.

But, whenas none of them he saw him take,
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake
And tremble like a leafe of aspin greene,
And troubled blood through his pale face was seene
To come and goe, with tidings from the heart,
As it a ronning messenger had beene.
At last, resolv'd to work his finall smart,

He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start.

So up he rose, and thence amounted streight.
Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
Would safe depart, for all his subtile sleight;
He chose an halter from among the rest,
And with it hong himselfe, unbid, unblest.
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby;
For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,
Yet nathëlesse it could not doe him die,
Till he should die his last, that is, eternally.

CANTO X.

Her faithfull knight faire Una brings
To House of Holinesse;
Where he is taught repentaunce, and
The way to hevenly blesse.

WHAT man is he, that boasts of fleshly might
And vaine assurance of mortality,
Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight
Against spirituall foes, yields by and by,
Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly!
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory:
If any strength we have, it is to ill;
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.

By that which lately hapned, Una saw
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his sinewes woxen weake and raw,
Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint,
Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight.
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might,
Till he recovered had his late decayed plight.

There was an auncient house not far away,
Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore
And pure unspotted life: so well, they say,
It governd was, and guided evermore,
Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore;
Whose onely ioy was to relieve the needes
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore>
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.