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But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands, Her crafty head was altogether bald,
Was overgrowne with scurfe and filthy scald;
And her sowre breath abhominably smeld;
Hong downe, and filthy matter from thein weld;
A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight:
And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight;
Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were,
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.
Such is the face of Falshood; such the sight
Shee, flying fast from Heavens hated face, “ But welcome now, my lord in wele or woe;
And from the world that her discovered wide, Whose presence I have lackt too long a day:
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace, And fve on Portune mine avowed foe,
From living eies her opeu shame to hide; Whose wrathful wreakes themselves doe now alay; And lurkt in rocks and caves, long unespide. And for these wronges shall treble penaunce pay
But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire, Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe.”
Did in that castle afterwards abide, The chearlesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,
To rest themselves, and weary powres repaire : Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
Where store they fownd of al, that dainty was and His long endured famine needed more reliefe.
His loves and lignage Arthure tells :
The knights knitt friendly bands : Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
Sir Trevisan fies from Despeyre,
Whom Redcros knight withstands.
The vertues linked are in lovely wize;
from bands. But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.”
Who when their powres, empayred through labor So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid,
With dew repast they had recured well, (long, And robd of roiall robes, and purple pall,
And that weake captive wight yow wexed strong ; And ornaments that richly were displaid;
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their adventures fell :
« Faire virgin,” said the prince, “yee me require “ 'That ydle name of lore, and lovers life, A thing without the compas of my witt:
As losse of time, and vertues enimy, For both the lignage, and the certein sire,
I ever scorn'd, and lovd to stirre up strife, From which I sprong, from me are hidden yitt. In middest of their mournfull tragedy; For all so soone as life did me admitt
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry, Into this world, and shewed Hevens light,
And blow the fire, which them to ash's brent: From mother's pap I taken was unfitt,
Their god himselfe, grievd at my libertie, And streight deliver'd to a Fary knight, (might. Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent; To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall But I them warded all with wary governinent. « Unto old Timon he me brought bylive;
“ But all in vaine ; no fort can be so strong, Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sownd, In warlike feates th’ expertest man alive,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long, And is the wisest now on Earth I weene:
Or unawares at disadvantage fowud: His dwelling is, low in a valley greene,
Nothing is sure that growes on earthly grownd. Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might, From whence the river Dee, as silver cleene, And boastes in beauties chaive not to be bownd, His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore; Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight, [spight. There all my daies he traind me up in vertuous lore. And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours must de« Thether the great magicien Merlin came, As was his use, ofttimes to visitt mee;
“ Ensample make of him your haplesse ioy,
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy Him oft and oft I askt in privity,
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertee. Of what loines and what lignage I did spring,
For on a day, prickt forth with iollitee Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
Of looser life and heat of hardiment, That I was sonne and heire unto a king, '[bring." Raunging the forest wide ou courser free, As time in her iust term the truth to light should The fields, the floods, the Heavens, with one consent,
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent. “Well worthy impe," said then the lady gent, And pupil fitt for such a tutors hand!
“ Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight But what adventure, or what high intent,
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd : Hath brought you hether into Fary land,
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight, Aread, prince Arthure, crowne of martiall band?" And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd : “ Full hard it is,” quoth be, "to read aright Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd, The course of heavenly cause, or understand And slombring soft my hart did steale away, The secret meaning of th' eternall Might,
Me seemed, by my side a royali mayd That rules mens waies, and rules the thoughts of Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay: living wight.
So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny day. « For whether be, through fatal deepe foresight,
“ Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment Ne bither sent, for cause to me unghest;
She to me made, and badd me love her deare; Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night For dearely sure her love was to me bent, Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest,
As, when just time expired, should appeare. With forced fury following his behest,
But, whether dreames delude, or true it were, Me bether brought by wayes yet never found;
Was never bart so ravisht with delight, You to have helpt I bold myself yet blest.”
Ne living man like wordes did ever heare, “ Ah! courteous knight," quoth she, “what secret
As she to me delivered all that night; wound
And at her parting said, she queene of Faries hight. Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart on " Dear dame,” quoth he, " you sleeping sparkes And nought but pressed gras where she had lyen,
“ When I awoke, and found her place devoyd, awake, Which, troubled once, into buge flames will grow;
I sorrowed all so much as earst I ioyd, Ne ever will their fervent fury slake,
And washed all her place with watry eyen. Till living moysture into smoke do flow,
From that day forth I lov'd that face divyne; And wasted life doe lye in ashes low.
From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd, Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
To seek her out with labor and long tyne, But, told, it flames; and, hidden, it does glow;
And never vowd to rest till her I fynd : (hynd.” I will rerele what ye so much desire: [spyre. Nyne monethes I seek in vain, yet ni'll that vow unAh! Love, lay down thy bow, the whiles I may re
Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale, * It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares, And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray; Wben corage first does creepe in manly chest; Yett still he strove to cloke his inward bale, Then first that cole of kindly heat appeares And hide the smoke that did his fire display; To kindle love in every living brest:
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say ; But me had warnd old Timons wise behest, "O happy queene of Faries, that hast fownd, Those creeping flames by reason to subdew, Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may Before their rage grew, to so great unrest,
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confownd ! As miserable lovers use to rew,
(new. True loves are often sown, but seldom grow on Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe stil wexeth grownd."
“ Thine, O! then," said the gentle Redcrosse knight, He answerd nought at all; but adding new
With stony eyes and hartlesse hollow hew,
Infernall Furies with their chaines antyde. And you, my lord, the patrone of my life,
Him yett againe, and yett againe, bespake Of that great queene may we'l gaine worthie grace; The gentle knight; who nought to him replyde; For onely worthie you through prowes priefe, But, trembling every joynt, did inly quake, Yf living man mote worth e be, to be her liefe.” And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth
to shake; So diversly discoursing of their loves, The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
“For Gods deare love, sir Knight, doe me not stay; And sad remembraunce now the prince amoves
For loe! be comes, he comes fast after mee!" With fresh desire his voyage to pursew :
Eft looking back would faine have runne away; Als Una earnd her traveill to renew.
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free Then those two knights, fast frendship for to bynd,
The secrete cause of his perplexitie: And love establish each to other trew.
Yet nathëmore by his bold hartie speach Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
Could his blood-frosen hart emboldned bee, And eke, as pledges firme, right hands together But through his boldnes rather feare did reach; ioynd.
Yett, forst, at last he made through silence suddein
breach: Prince Arthur gave a boxe of diamond sure,
“ And am I now in safetie sure," quoth he, Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament, “ From him, that would have forced me to dye ? Wherein were clo-d few drops of liquor pure,
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee, Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That I may tell this haplesse history?" That any wownd could heale incontinent.
Fear nought,"quoth he, “no daunger now is nye.” Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gare
“ Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace," A booke, wherein his Saveours Testament
Said he, “ the which with this uplucky eye Was writt with golden letters rich and brave;
I late beheld; and, had not greater grace A workeof wondrous grace, and hable soules to save.
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.
In all affayres, and was both bold and free;
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioyd to see her lover languish and lament: So as they traveild, lo! they gan espy
“ From whom retourning sad and comfortlesse, An armed knight towards them gallop fast, As on the way together we did fare, That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
We met that villen, (God from him me blesse!) Or other griesly thing, that bim aghast.
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare, Still, as he fledd, his eye was backward cast, A man of Hell, that calls himselfe Despayre: As if his feare still followed him behynd:
Who first us greets, and after fayre areedes Als flew his steed, as he his bandes had brast, Of tydinges straunge, and of adventures rare : And with his winged heeles did tread the wynd, So creeping close, as snake in hidden weedes, As he had been a fole of Pegasus his kynd. Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes. Nigh as he drew, they might perceive his head “ Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts To be unarmd, and curld uncombed heares Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe, Upstaring stiffe, dismaid with úncouth dread: Which Love had launched with his deadly darts; Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares,
With wounding words, and termes of foule repriefe, Nor life in limbe; and, to increase his feares, He pluckt from us all hope of dew reliefe, In fowle reproch of knighthoodes fayre degree, That earst us held in love of lingring life: About his neck an hempen rope he weares, Then hopelesse, hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe That with his glistring armes does ill agree: Perswade us dye, to stint all further str fe ; But he of rope, or armes, has now no memoree. To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife: The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast, “ With which sad instrument of basty death, To weet what mister wight was so dismayd : That wofull lover, loathing lenger light, There him he findes ali sencelesse and aghast, A wyde way made to let forth living breath. That of himselfe he seemd to be afrayd ;
But I, more fearfull or more lucky wight, Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd, Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight, Till he these wordes to him deliver might;
Fledd fast away, halfe dead with dy'ny feare; “ Sir Knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd, Ne yet assur'd of life by you, sir Koight, And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight? Whose like infirmity like chaunce may beare : For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight.” But God you never let his charmed speaches leare!" “ How may a man,” said be, “with idle speach " What franticke fit," quoth he,“ hath thus disBe Fonne to spovle the castle of his health}"
But his owne guiltie mind, deserving death.
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath? " Certes," sayd he, “ hence shall I never rest, Till I that treachours art have heard and tryde:
“ Who travailes by the wearie wandring way, And you, sir Knight, whose name mote I request,
To come unto his wished home in haste, Of grace do me unto his cabin gryde."
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay; " I, that hight Trevisan," quoth he, “ will ryde, Is not great grace to helpe him over past, Against my liking, backe to doe you grace:
Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast? But not for gold por glee will I abyde
Most envious man, that grieves at neighbours good; By you, when ye arrive in that same place;
And fond, that ioyest in the woe thou hast; For lever had I die then see his deadly face."
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood
Upon the bancke, yet wilt thy selfe not pas the flood ? Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight
“ He there does now enjoy eternall rest His dwelling bas, low in an hollow cave, Far underneath a cragsy cliff y pight,
And happy ease, which thou doest want and crave, Darke, dolefall, dreary, like a greedy grave,
And further from it daily wanderest: That still for carrion carcases doth crave:
What if some little payne the passage have, On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly owle,
That makes frayle flesh to feare the bitter wave; Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave
Is not short payne well borne, that bringes long ease, Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave? And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, (please.”'
Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly howie: And all about old stockes and stubs of trees,
The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit, Whereon nor fruit por leafe was ever seen,
And sayd; “ The terme of life is limited, Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten, it : On which bad many wretches hanged beene,
The souldier may not move from watchfull sted,
Nor leave his stand untill his captaine bed." Wbose carcases were scattred on the greene,
“ Who life did limit by Almightie doome,” And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived there, That bare-head knight, for dread and doleful teene, And he, that points the centonell his roome,
Quoth he, “knowes best the termes established; Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare;
Doth license bim depart at sound of morning droome. But th' other forst him staye, and comforted in fcare.
“ Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne That darkesome cave they enter, where they find
In Heaven and Earth? Did not he all create That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
To die againe ? All ends, that was begonne : Musing full sadly in his sullein mind :
Their times in his eternall bo ke of fate His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound,
Are written sure, and have their certein date. Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
Whu then can strive with strong necessitie, And hid his face; through which his hollow eync
That holds the world iu his still chaunging state; Lookt deadly dall, and stared as astound;
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie? His rax-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, Were shronke into his iawes, as he did never dine.
nor why. His garment, nought but many ragged clouts, With thornes together pind and patched was,
“ The lenger life, I wote the greater sin ; The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts :
The greater sin, the greater punishment: And bim beside there lay upon the gras
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win A dreary corse, whose life away did pas,
Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengëment, Al wallowd in his own yet luke-warme blood,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent: That from his wound yet welled fresh, alas!
For lite must life, and blood must blood, repay. In which a rusty kaife fast fixed stood,
Is not enough thy evill life forespent?
For he that once hath missed the right way, And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray, Which piteous spectacle, approving trew The wofuil tale that Trevisan had told,
« Then doe no further goe, no further stray; Whenas the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew; But here ly downe, and to thy rest betake, With firie zeale be burnt in courage bold
Th’ill to prevent, that life ensewen may.
Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife, bat justice can but iudge against thee right, Payne, hunger, cold that makes the heart to quake; With thine owne blood to price his blood, here and ever fickle fortune rageth rife; [life. shed in sight ?"
All which, and thousands mo, do make a loathsome VOL. III.
“ Thou, wretched man, of death bast greatest need, | Which whenas Una saw, through every vainie If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy state; The crudled cold ran to her well of life, For never knight, that dared warlike deed,
As in a swowne: but, soone reliv'd againe, More luckless dissaventures did amate:
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife, Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late And threw it to the ground, enraged rife, Thy life shutt up for death so oft did call;
And to him said ; “ Fie, fie, faint hearted knight, And though good lucke prolonged bath thy date, What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife? Yet death then would the like mishaps forestall, Is this the battaile, which thou vauntst to fight Into the which hereafter thou maist happen fall. With that fire-mouthed dragon, borrible and bright? “ Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire “ Come; come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight, To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree? Ne let vaine words bewitch thy many hart, Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright: High heaped up with huge iniquitee,
In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part ? Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art? Is not enough, that to this lady mild
Where justice growes, there grows eke greater grace, Tbou falsed hast thy faith with periuree,
The which doth quench the brond of bellish smart, And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vild,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface: With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defild? Arise, sir Knight; arise, and leave this cursed place." “ Is not he iust, that all this doth behold
So up he rose, and thence amounted streight. From highest Heven, and beares an equall eie ? Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest Shaif he thy sins up in his knowledge fold, Would safe depart, for all his subtile sleight; And guilty be of thine impietie?
He chose an halter from among the rest, Is not his law, Let every sinner die,
And with it hong himselfe, unbid, unblest. Die shall all flesh? What then must needs be donne, But death he could not worke himselfe thereby; Is it not better to doe willinglie,
For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,
Yet nathëlesse it could not doe him die,
Her faithfull knight faire Una brings
To House of Holinesse;
The way to hevenly blesse.
What man is he, that boasts of Aeshly might
Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight
Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly!
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint; By righteous sentence of th’ Almighties law. And all his sinewes woxen weake and raw, Then gan the villein him to overcraw,
Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint, And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire, Which he endured in his late restraint, And all that might him to perdition draw; That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight. And bad him choose, what death he would desire: Therefore to cherish him with diets daint, For death was dew to him, that had provokt Gods She cast to bring him, where he chearen might, ire.
Till he recovered had his late decayed plight. But, whepas none of them he saw him take, There was an auncient house not far away, He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene, Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake And pure unspotted life: so well, they say, And tremble like a leafe of aspin greene,
It governd was, and guided evermore, And troubled blood through his pale face was seene Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore; To come and goe, with tidings from the heart, Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes As it a ronning messenger had beene.
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore > At last, resolv'd to work his finall smart,
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes, He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start. And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.