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Cant. V.

The faithfull knight in equall field
subdewes his faithlesse foe,
Whom false Duessa saues, and for
his cure to hell does goe.

THe noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought,
   And is with child of glorious great intent,
   Can neuer rest, vntill it forth haue brought
   Th'eternall brood of glorie excellent:
   Such restlesse passion did all night torment
   The flaming corage of that Faery knight,
   Deuizing, how that doughtie turnament
   With greatest honour he atchieuen might;
Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawning light.

At last the golden Orientall gate
   Of greatest heauen gan to open faire,
   And Phoebus fresh, as bridegrome to his mate,
   Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:
   And hurld his glistring beames through gloomy aire.
   Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiu'd, streight way
   He started vp, and did him selfe prepaire,
   In sun-bright armes, and battailous array:
For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.

And forth he comes into the commune hall,
   Where earely waite him many a gazing eye,
   To weet what end to straunger knights may fall.
   There many Minstrales maken melody,
   To driue away the dull melancholy,
   And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord
   Can tune their timely voyces cunningly,
   And many Chroniclers, that can record
Old loues, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.

Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin,
   In wouen maile all armed warily,
   And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin
   Does care for looke of liuing creatures eye.
   They bring them wines of Greece and Araby,
   And daintie spices fetcht from furthest Ynd,
   To kindle heat of corage priuily:
   And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd
T'obserue the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.

At last forth comes that far renowmed Queene,
   With royall pomp and Princely maiestie;
   She is ybrought vnto a paled greene,
   And placed vnder stately canapee,
   The warlike feates of both those knights to see.
   On th'other side in all mens open vew
   Duessa placed is, and on a tree
   Sans-foy his shield is hangd with bloudy hew:
Both those the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.

A shrilling trompet sownded from on hye,
   And vnto battaill bad them selues addresse:
   Their shining shieldes about their wrestes they tye,
   And burning blades about their heads do blesse,
   The instruments of wrath and heauinesse:
   With greedy force each other doth assayle,
   And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse
   Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle;
The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake & fraile.

The Sarazin was stout, and wondrous strong,
   And heaped blowes like yron hammers great:
   For after bloud and vengeance he did long.
   The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat:
   And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat:
   For all for prayse and honour he did fight.
   Both stricken strike, and beaten both do beat,
   That from their shields forth flyeth firie light,
And helmets hewen deepe, shew marks of eithers might.

So th'one for wrong, the other striues for right:
   As when a Gryfon seized of his pray,
   A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight,
   Through widest ayre making his ydle way,
   That would his rightfull rauine rend away:
   With hideous horrour both together smight,
   And souce so sore, that they the heauens affray:
   The wise Southsayer seeing so sad sight,
Th'amazed vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.

So th'one for wrong, the other striues for right,
   And each to deadly shame would driue his foe:
   The cruell steele so greedily doth bight
   In tender flesh, that streames of bloud down flow,
   With which the armes, that earst so bright did show,
   Into a pure vermillion now are dyde:
   Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow,
   Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde,
That victory they dare not wish to either side.

At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye,
   His suddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre,
   Vpon his brothers shield, which hong thereby:
   Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,
   And said, Ah wretched sonne of wofull syre,
   Doest thou sit wayling by black Stygian lake,
   Whilest here thy shield is hangd for victors hyre,
   And sluggish german doest thy forces slake,
To after-send his foe, that him may ouertake?

Goe caytiue Elfe, him quickly ouertake,
   And soone redeeme from his long wandring woe;
   Goe guiltie ghost, to him my message make,
   That I his shield haue quit from dying foe.
   Therewith vpon his crest he stroke him so,
   That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall;
   End of the doubtfull battell deemed tho
   The lookers on, and lowd to him gan call
The false Duessa, Thine the shield, and I, and all.

Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake,
   Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,
   And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake,
   The creeping deadly cold away did shake:
   Tho mou'd with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,
   Of all attonce he cast auengd to bee,
   And with so'exceeding furie at him strake,
   That forced him to stoupe vpon his knee;
Had he not stouped so, he should haue clouen bee.

And to him said, Goe now proud Miscreant,
   Thy selfe thy message doe to german deare,
   Alone he wandring thee too long doth want:
   Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.
   Therewith his heauie hand he high gan reare,
   Him to haue slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd
   Vpon him fell: he no where doth appeare,
   But vanisht is. The Elfe him cals alowd,
But answer none receiues: the darknes him does shrowd.

In haste Duessa from her place arose,
   And to him running said, O prowest knight,
   That euer Ladie to her loue did chose,
   Let now abate the terror of your might,
   And quench the flame of furious despight,
   And bloudie vengeance; lo th'infernall powres
   Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
   Haue borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.
The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.

Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye
   He sought all round about, his thirstie blade
   To bath in bloud of faithlesse enemy;
   Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:
   He standes amazed, how he thence should fade.
   At last the trumpets Triumph sound on hie,
   And running Heralds humble homage made,
   Greeting him goodly with new victorie,
And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie.

Wherewith he goeth to that soueraine Queene,
   And falling her before on lowly knee,
   To her makes present of his seruice seene:
   Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,
   Greatly aduauncing his gay cheualree.
   So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,
   Whom all the people follow with great glee,
   Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,
That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heauen bright.

Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed:
   Where many skilfull leaches him abide,
   To salue his hurts, that yet still freshly bled.
   In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide,
   And softly can embalme on euery side.
   And all the while, most heauenly melody
   About the bed sweet musicke did diuide,
   Him to beguile of griefe and agony:
And all the while Duessa wept full bitterly.

As when a wearie traueller that strayes
   By muddy shore of broad seuen-mouthed Nile,
   Vnweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,
   Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,
   Which in false griefe hyding his harmefull guile,
   Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares:
   The foolish man, that pitties all this while
   His mournefull plight, is swallowd vp vnwares,
Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.

So wept Duessa vntill euentide,
   That shyning lampes in Ioues high house were light:
   Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide,
   But comes vnto the place, where th'Hethen knight
   In slombring swownd nigh voyd of vitall spright,
   Lay couer'd with inchaunted cloud all day:
   Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,
   To wayle his woefull case she would not stay,
But to the easterne coast of heauen makes speedy way.

Where griesly Night, with visage deadly sad,
   That Phoebus chearefull face durst neuer vew,
   And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad,
   She findes forth comming from her darkesome mew,
   Where she all day did hide her hated hew.
   Before the dore her yron charet stood,
   Alreadie harnessed for iourney new;
   And coleblacke steedes yborne of hellish brood,
That on their rustie bits did champ, as they were wood.

Who when she saw Duessa sunny bright,
   Adornd with gold and iewels shining cleare,
   She greatly grew amazed at the sight,
   And th'vnacquainted light began to feare:
   For neuer did such brightnesse there appeare,
   And would haue backe retyred to her caue,
   Vntill the witches speech she gan to heare,
   Saying, Yet ô thou dreaded Dame, I craue
Abide, till I haue told the message, which I haue.

She stayd, and foorth Duessa gan proceede,
   O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,
   More old then Ioue, whom thou at first didst breede,
   Or that great house of Gods cælestiall,
   Which wast begot in Dæmogorgons hall,
   And sawst the secrets of the world vnmade,
   Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall
   With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade?
Lo where the stout Sansioy doth sleepe in deadly shade.

And him before, I saw with bitter eyes
   The bold Sansfoy shrinke vnderneath his speare;
   And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,
   Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,
   That whylome was to me too dearely deare.
   O what of Gods then boots it to be borne,
   If old Aveugles sonnes so euill heare?
   Or who shall not great Nightes children scorne,
When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne?

Vp then, vp dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene,
   Go gather vp the reliques of thy race,
   Or else goe them auenge, and let be seene,
   That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place,
   And can the children of faire light deface.
   Her feeling speeches some compassion moued
   In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:
   Yet pittie in her hart was neuer proued
Till then: for euermore she hated, neuer loued.

And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew
   The fall of famous children borne of mee,
   And good successes, which their foes ensew:
   But who can turne the streame of destinee,
   Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee,
   Which fast is tyde to Ioues eternall seat?
   The sonnes of Day he fauoureth, I see,
   And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:
To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.

Yet shall they not escape so freely all;
   For some shall pay the price of others guilt:
   And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall,
   Shall with his owne bloud price that he hath spilt.
   But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?
   I that do seeme not I, Duessa am,
   (Quoth she) how euer now in garments gilt,
   And gorgeous gold arayd I to thee came;
Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.

Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist
   The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face
   The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist
   Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace
   It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place
   Could it discerne, though I the mother bee
   Of falshood, and root of Duessaes race.
   O welcome child, whom I haue longd to see,
And how haue seene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.

Then to her yron wagon she betakes,
   And with her beares the fowle welfauourd witch:
   Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes.
   Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,
   And two were browne, yet each to each vnlich,
   Did softly swim away, ne euer stampe,
   Vnlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch;  
Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,
And trampling the fine element, would fiercely rampe.

So well they sped, that they be come at length
   Vnto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,
   Deuoid of outward sense, and natiue strength,
   Couerd with charmed cloud from vew of day,
   And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray.
   His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congealed,
   They binden vp so wisely, as they may,
   And handle softly, till they can be healed:
So lay him in her charet, close in night concealed.

And all the while she stood vpon the ground,
   The wakefull dogs did neuer cease to bay,
   As giuing warning of th'vnwonted sound,
   With which her yron wheeles did them affray,
   And her darke griesly looke them much dismay;
   The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle
   With drearie shriekes did also her bewray;
   And hungry Wolues continually did howle,
At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.

Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole,
   And brought the heauie corse with easie pace
   To yawning gulfe of deepe Auernus hole.
   By that same hole an entrance darke and bace
   With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place,
   Descends to hell: there creature neuer past,
   That backe returned without heauenly grace;
   But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines haue brast,
And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men aghast.

By that same way the direfull dames doe driue
   Their mournefull charet, fild with rusty blood,
   And downe to Plutoes house are come biliue:
   Which passing through, on euery side them stood
   The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,
   Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide
   With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood
   Of feends infernall flockt on euery side,
To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.

They pas the bitter waues of Acheron,
   Where many soules sit wailing woefully,
   And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,
   Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry,
   And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry,
   Cursing high Ioue, the which them thither sent.
   The house of endlesse paine is built thereby,
   In which ten thousand sorts of punishment
The cursed creatures doe eternally torment.

Before the threshold dreadfull Cerberus
   His three deformed heads did lay along,
   Curled with thousand adders venemous,
   And lilled forth his bloudie flaming tong:
   At them he gan to reare his bristles strong,
   And felly gnarre, vntill dayes enemy
   Did him appease; then downe his taile he hong
   And suffered them to passen quietly:
For she in hell and heauen had power equally.

There was Ixion turned on a wheele,
   For daring tempt the Queene of heauen to sin;
   And Sisyphus an huge round stone did reele
   Against an hill, ne might from labour lin;
   There thirstie Tantalus hong by the chin;
   And Tityus fed a vulture on his maw;
   Typhoeus ioynts were stretched on a gin,
   Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth by law,
And fifty sisters water in leake vessels draw.

They all beholding worldly wights in place,
   Leaue off their worke, vnmindfull of their smart,
   To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace,
   Till they be come vnto the furthest part:
   Where was a Caue ywrought by wondrous art,
   Deepe, darke, vneasie, dolefull, comfortlesse,
   In which sad Æsculapius farre a part
   Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse,
For that Hippolytus rent corse he did redresse.

Hippolytus a iolly huntsman was,
   That wont in charet chace the foming Bore;
   He all his Peeres in beautie did surpas,
   But Ladies loue as losse of time forbore:
   His wanton stepdame loued him the more,
   But when she saw her offred sweets refused
   Her loue she turnd to hate, and him before
   His father fierce of treason false accused,
And with her gealous termes his open eares abused.

Who all in rage his Sea-god syre besought,
   Some cursed vengeance on his sonne to cast:
   From surging gulf two monsters straight were brought,
   With dread whereof his chasing steedes aghast,
   Both charet swift and huntsman ouercast.
   His goodly corps on ragged cliffs yrent,
   Was quite dismembred, and his members chast
   Scattered on euery mountaine, as he went,
That of Hippolytus was left no moniment.

His cruell stepdame seeing what was donne,
   Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end,
   In death auowing th'innocence of her sonne.
   Which hearing his rash Syre, began to rend
   His haire, and hastie tongue, that did offend:
   Tho gathering vp the relicks of his smart
   By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend,
   Them brought to Æsculape, that by his art
Did heale them all againe, and ioyned euery part.

Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine
   When Ioue auizd, that could the dead reuiue,
   And fates expired could renew againe,
   Of endlesse life he might him not depriue,
   But vnto hell did thrust him downe aliue,
   With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore:
   Where long remaining, he did alwaies striue
   Himselfe wilth salues to health for to restore,
And slake the heauenly fire, that raged euermore.

There auncient Night arriuing, did alight
   From her nigh wearie waine, and in her armes
   To Æsculapius brought the wounded knight:
   Whom hauing softly disarayd of armes,
   Tho gan to him discouer all his harmes,
   Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,
   If either salues, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes
   A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise,
He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.

Ah Dame (quoth he) thou temptest me in vaine,
   To dare the thing, which daily yet I rew,
   And the old cause of my continued paine
   With like attempt to like end to renew.
   Is not enough, that thrust from heauen dew
   Here endlesse penance for one fault I pay,
   But that redoubled crime with vengeance new
   Thou biddest me to eeke? Can Night defray
The wrath of thundring Ioue, that rules both night and day?

Not so (quoth she) but sith that heauens king
   From hope of heauen hath thee excluded quight,
   Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing,
   And fearest not, that more thee hurten might,
   Now in the powre of euerlasting Night?
   Goe to then, ô thou farre renowmed sonne
   Of great Apollo, shew thy famous might
   In medicine, that else hath to thee wonne
Great paines, & greater praise, both neuer to be donne.

Her words preuaild: And then the learned leach
   His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay,
   And all things else, the which his art did teach:
   Which hauing seene, from thence arose away
   The mother of dread darknesse, and let stay
   Aueugles sonne there in the leaches cure,
   And backe returning tooke her wonted way,
   To runne her timely race, whilst Phoebus pure
In westerne waues his wearie wagon did recure.

The false Duessa leauing noyous Night,
   Returnd to stately pallace of dame Pride;
   Where when she came, she found the Faery knight
   Departed thence, albe his woundes wide
   Not throughly heald, vnreadie were to ride.
   Good cause he had to hasten thence away;
   For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spide,
   Where in a dongeon deepe huge numbers lay
Of caytiue wretched thrals, that wayled night and day.

A ruefull sight, as could be seene with eie;
   Of whom he learned had in secret wise
   The hidden cause of their captiuitie,
   How mortgaging their liues to Couetise,
   Through wastfull Pride, and wanton Riotise,
   They were by law of that proud Tyrannesse
   Prouokt with VVrath, and Enuies false surmise,
Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse,
Where they should liue in woe, & die in wretchednesse.

There was that great proud king of Babylon,
   That would compell all nations to adore,
   And him as onely God to call vpon,
   Till through celestiall doome throwne out of dore,
   Into an Oxe he was transform'd of yore:
   There also was king Croesus, that enhaunst
   His heart too high through his great riches store;
   And proud Antiochus, the which aduaunst
His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altars daunst.

And them long time before, great Nimrod was,
   That first the world with sword and fire warrayd;
   And after him old Ninus farre did pas
   In princely pompe, of all the world obayd;
   There also was that mightie Monarch layd
   Low vnder all, yet aboue all in pride,
   That name of natiue syre did fowle vpbrayd,
   And would as Ammons sonne be magnifide,
Till scornd of God and man a shamefull death he dide.

All these together in one heape were throwne,
   Like carkases of beasts in butchers stall.
   And in another corner wide were strowne
   The antique ruines of the Romaines fall:
   Great Romulus the Grandsyre of them all,
   Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus,
   Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hanniball,
   Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius,
High Cæsar, great Pompey, and fierce Antonius.

Amongst these mighty men were wemen mixt,
   Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:
   The bold Semiramis, whose sides transfixt
   With sonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches spoke;
   Faire Sthenoboea, that her selfe did choke
   With wilfull cord, for wanting of her will;
   High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke
   Of Aspes sting her selfe did stoutly kill:
And thousands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.

Besides the endlesse routs of wretched thralles,
   Which thither were assembled day by day,
   From all the world after their wofull falles,
   Through wicked pride, and wasted wealthes decay.
   But most of all, which in the Dongeon lay
   Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,
   Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play,
   Consumed had their goods, and thriftlesse howres,
And lastly throwne themselues into these heauy stowres.

Whose case when as the carefull Dwarfe had tould,
   And made ensample of their mournefull sight
   Vnto his maister, he no lenger would
   There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,
   But early rose, and ere that dawning light
   Discouered had the world to heauen wyde,
   He by a priuie Posterne tooke his flight,
   That of no enuious eyes he mote be spyde:
For doubtlesse death ensewd, if any him descryde.

Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way,
   For many corses, like a great Lay-stall
   Of murdred men which therein strowed lay,
   Without remorse, or decent funerall:
   Which all through that great Princesse pride did fall
   And came to shamefull end. And them beside
   Forth ryding vnderneath the castell wall,
   A donghill of dead carkases he spide,
The dreadfull spectacle of that sad house of Pride.

Cant. VI.

From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace
fayre Vna is releast:
Whom saluage nation does adore,
and learnes her wise beheast.

AS when a ship, that flyes faire vnder saile,
An hidden rocke escaped hath vnwares,
That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,
The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares
At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares
To ioy at his foole-happie ouersight:
So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares
The dreadlesse courage of this Elfin knight,
Hauing escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.

Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed
The faire Duess' had forst him leaue behind;
And yet more sad, that Vna his deare dreed
Her truth had staind with treason so vnkind;
Yet crime in her could neuer creature find,
But for his loue, and for her owne selfe sake,
She wandred had from one to other Ynd,
Him for to seeke, ne euer would forsake,
Till her vnwares the fierce Sansloy did ouertake.

Who after Archimagoes fowle defeat,
Led her away into a forrest wilde,
And turning wrathfull fire to lustfull heat,
With beastly sin thought her to haue defilde,
And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.
Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes,
Her to perswade, that stubborne fort to yilde:
For greater conquest of hard loue he gaynes,
That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines.

With fawning wordes he courted her a while,
And looking louely, and oft sighing sore,
Her constant hart did tempt with diuerse guile:
But wordes, and lookes, and sighes she did abhore,
As rocke of Diamond stedfast euermore.
Yet for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye,
He snatcht the vele, that hong her face before;
Then gan her beautie shine, as brightest skye,
And burnt his beastly hart t'efforce her chastitye.

So when he saw his flatt'ring arts to fayle,
And subtile engines bet from batteree,
With greedy force he gan the fort assayle,
Whereof he weend possessed soone to bee,
And win rich spoile of ransackt chastetee.
Ah heauens, that do this hideous act behold,
And heauenly virgin thus outraged see,
How can ye vengeance iust so long withhold,
And hurle not flashing flames vpon that Paynim bold?

The pitteous maiden carefull comfortlesse,
Does throw out thrilling shriekes, & shrieking cryes,
The last vaine helpe of womens great distresse,
And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes,
That molten starres do drop like weeping eyes;
And Phoebus flying so most shamefull sight,
His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes,
And hides for shame. What wit of mortall wight
Can now deuise to quit a thrall from such a plight?

Eternall prouidence exceeding thought,
Where none appeares can make her selfe a way:
A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought,
From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray.
Her shrill outcryes and shriekes so loud did bray,
That all the woodes and forestes did resownd;
A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,
Whiles old Syluanus slept in shady arber sownd.

Who when they heard that pitteous strained voice,
In hast forsooke their rurall meriment,
And ran towards the far rebownded noyce,
To weet, what wight so loudly did lament.
Vnto the place they come incontinent:
Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,
A rude, misshapen, monstrous rablement,
Whose like he neuer saw, he durst not bide,
But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride.

The wyld woodgods arriued in the place,
There find the virgin dolefull desolate,
With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face,
As her outrageous foe had left her late,
And trembling yet through feare of former hate;
All stand amazed at so vncouth sight,
And gin to pittie her vnhappie state,
All stand astonied at her beautie bright,
In their rude eyes vnworthie of so wofull plight.

She more amaz'd, in double dread doth dwell;
And euery tender part for feare does shake:
As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger fell
A seely Lambe farre from the flocke does take,
Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make,
A Lyon spyes fast running towards him,
The innocent pray in hast he does forsake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in euery lim
With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim.

Such fearefull fit assaid her trembling hart,
Ne word to speake, ne ioynt to moue she had:
The saluage nation feele her secret smart,
And read her sorrow in her count'nance sad;
Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad,
And rusticke horror all a side doe lay,
And gently grenning, shew a semblance glad
To comfort her, and feare to put away,
Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay.

The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit
Her single person to their barbarous truth,
But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit,
Late learnd what harme to hastie trust ensu'th,
They in compassion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beautie soueraine,
Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,
And all prostrate vpon the lowly plaine,
Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count'nance faine.

Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,
And yieldes her to extremitie of time;
So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,
And walketh forth without suspect of crime:
They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme,
And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,
Do worship her, as Queene, with oliue girlond cround.

And all the way their merry pipes they sound,
That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet do weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.
So towards old Syluanus they her bring;
Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out,
To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning,
And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout,
And with an yuie twyne his wast is girt about.

Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad,
If Bacchus merry fruit they did inuent,
Or Cybeles franticke rites haue made them mad;
They drawing nigh, vnto their God present
That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.
The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;
His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire,
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.

The woodborne people fall before her flat,
And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;
And old Syluanus selfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;
Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,
But Venus neuer had so sober mood;
Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,
But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue
His ancient loue, and dearest Cyparisse,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy
Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;
For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after ioy,
But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.

The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades
Her to behold do thither runne apace,
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,
Flocke all about to see her louely face:
But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,
They enuie her in their malitious mind,
And fly away for feare of fowle disgrace:
But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind,
And henceforth nothing faire, but her on earth they find.

Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky maid,
Did her content to please their feeble eyes,
And long time with that saluage people staid,
To gather breath in many miseries.
During which time her gentle wit she plyes,
To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine,
And made her th'Image of Idolatryes;
But when their bootlesse zeale she did restraine
Frõ her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.

It fortuned a noble warlike knight
By iust occasion to that forrest came,
To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,
From whence he tooke his well deserued name:
He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,
And fild far landes with glorie of his might,
Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame,
And euer lou'd to fight for Ladies right,
But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight.

A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld,
By straunge aduenture as it did betyde,
And there begotten of a Lady myld,
Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,
That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde
To Therion, a loose vnruly swayne;
Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde,
And chase the saluage beast with busie payne,
Then serue his Ladies loue, and wast in pleasures vayne.

The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne,
And could not lacke her louers company,
But to the wood she goes, to serue her turne,
And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly,
And followes other game and venery:
A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,
And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,
The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,
And made her person thrall vnto his beastly kind.

So long in secret cabin there he held
Her captiue to his sensuall desire,
Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld,
And bore a boy vnto that saluage sire:
Then home he suffred her for to retire,
For ransome leauing him the late borne childe;
Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,
He noursled vp in life and manners wilde,
Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.

For all he taught the tender ymp, was but
To banish cowardize and bastard feare;
His trembling hand he would him force to put
Vpon the Lyon and the rugged Beare,
And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare;
And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make
To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare;
And the Robuckes in flight to ouertake,
That euery beast for feare of him did fly and quake.

Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell he grew,
That his owne sire and maister of his guise
Did often tremble at his horrid vew,
And oft for dread of hurt would him aduise,
The angry beasts not rashly to despise,
Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne
The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,
(A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne
Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.

And for to make his powre approued more,
Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell;
The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore,
The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell;
The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell;
And them constraine in equall teme to draw.
Such ioy he had, their stubborne harts to quell,
And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,
That his beheast they feared, as tyrans law,

His louing mother came vpon a day
Vnto the woods, to see her little sonne;
And chaunst vnwares to meet him in the way,
After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne,
When after him a Lyonesse did runne,
That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere
Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:
The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,
And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.

The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight,
And turning backe, gan fast to fly away,
Vntill with loue reuokt from vaine affright,
She hardly yet perswaded was to stay,
And then to him these womanish words gan say;
Ah Satyrane, my dearling, and my ioy,
For loue of me leaue off this dreadfull play;
To dally thus with death, is no fit toy,
Go find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.

In these and like delights of bloudy game
He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,
And there abode, whilst any beast of name
Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught
To feare his force: and then his courage haught
Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne,
And far abroad for straunge aduentures sought:
In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,
But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.

Yet euermore it was his manner faire,
After long labours and aduentures spent,
Vnto those natiue woods for to repaire,
To see his sire and offspring auncient.
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he vnwares the fairest Vna found,
Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment,
Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.

He wondred at her wisedome heauenly rare,
Whose like in womens wit he neuer knew;
And when her curteous deeds he did compare,
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew,
Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw,
And ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie
On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.

But she all vowd vnto the Redcrosse knight,
His wandring perill closely did lament,
Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,
But her deare heart with anguish did torment,
And all her wit in secret counsels spent,
How to escape. At last in priuie wise
To Satyrane she shewed her intent:
Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,
How with that pensiue Maid he best might thence arise.

So on a day when Satyres all were gone,
To do their seruice to Syluanus old,
The gentle virgin left behind alone
He led away with courage stout and bold.
Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,
Or euer hope recouer her againe:
In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.
So fast he carried her with carefull paine,
That they the woods are past, & come now to the plaine.

The better part now of the lingring day,
They traueild had, when as they farre espide
A wearie wight forwandring by the way,
And towards him they gan in hast to ride,
To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,
Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse.
But he them spying, gan to turne aside,
For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse;
More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.

A silly man, in simple weedes forworne,
And soild with dust of the long dried way;
His sandales were with toilesome trauell torne,
And face all tand with scorching sunny ray,
As he had traueild many a sommers day,
Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde;
And in his hand a Iacobs staffe, to stay
His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,
His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.

The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd
Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;
But warres, nor new aduentures none he herd.
Then Vna gan to aske, if ought he knew,
Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,
That in his armour bare a croslet red.
Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew
To tell the sad sight, which mine eies haue red:
These eyes did see that knight both liuing and eke ded.

That cruell word her tender hart so thrild,
That suddein cold did runne through euery vaine,
And stony horrour all her sences fild
With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine.
The knight her lightly reared vp againe,
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:
Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine
The further processe of her hidden griefe;
The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur'd the chiefe.

Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day,
This fatall day, that shall I euer rew,
To see two knights in trauell on my way
(A sory sight) arraung'd in battell new,
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:
My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife,
To see their blades so greedily imbrew,
That drunke with bloud, yet thristed after life:
What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim knife.

Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee,
And he the stoutest knight, that euer wonne?
Ah dearest dame (quoth he) how might I see
The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?
Where is (said Satyrane) that Paynims sonne,
That him of life, and vs of ioy hath reft?
Not far away (quoth he) he hence doth wonne
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were cleft.

Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast,
Whiles Vna with huge heauinesse opprest,
Could not for sorrow follow him so fast;
And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,
Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest,
In secret shadow by a fountaine side:
Euen he it was, that earst would haue supprest
Faire Vna: whom when Satyrane espide,
With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.

And said, Arise thou cursed Miscreaunt,
That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train
Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the Redcrosse to haue slain:
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield.
The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,
And catching vp in hast his three square shield,
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.

And drawing nigh him said, Ah misborne Elfe,
In euill houre thy foes thee hither sent,
Anothers wrongs to wreake vpon thy selfe:
Yet ill thou blamest me, for hauing blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent;
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I neuer slew,
But had he beene, where earst his armes were lent,
Th'enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:
But thou his errour shalt, I hope now prouen trew.

Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,
To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile
Each other bent his enimy to quell,
That with their force they perst both plate and maile,
And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,
That it would pitty any liuing eie.
Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile;
But floods of bloud could not them satisfie:
Both hungred after death: both chose to win, or die.

So long they fight, and fell reuenge pursue,
That fainting each, themselues to breathen let,
And oft refreshed, battell oft renue:
As when two Bores with rancling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,
Til breathlesse both them selues aside retire,
Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,
And trample th'earth, the whiles they may respire;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.

So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once,
They gan to fight returne, increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce,
With heaped strokes more hugely, then before,
That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore
They both deformed, scarsely could be known.
By this sad Vna fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown:
Arriu'd, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown.

Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin
Espide, he gan reuiue the memory
Of his lewd lusts, and late attempted sin,
And left the doubtfull battell hastily,
To catch her, newly offred to his eie:
But Satyrane with strokes him turning, staid,
And sternely bad him other businesse plie,
Then hunt the steps of pure vnspotted Maid:
Wherewith he all enrag'd, these bitter speaches said.

O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad
Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate?
Were it not better, I that Lady had,
Then that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate,
To loue another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy louers token on thy pate.
So they to fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.

But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing told,
Being in deed old Archimage, did stay
In secret shadow, all this to behold,
And much reioyced in their bloudy fray:
But when he saw the Damsell passe away
He left his stond, and her pursewd apace,
In hope to bring her to her last decay.
But for to tell her lamentable cace,
And eke this battels end, will need another place.

Next: Canto VII