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Cant. II.

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead faire falshood steps,
And workes him wofull ruth.

BY this the Northerne wagoner had set
    His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,
    That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,
    But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
    To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:
    And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill
    Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre
    In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,
Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.

When those accursed messengers of hell,
    That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright
    Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell
    Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:
    Who all in rage to see his skilfull might
    Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine
    And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.
    But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,
He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,
    And that false other Spright, on whom he spred
    A seeming body of the subtile aire,
    Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed
    His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,
    Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:
    Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,
    Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,
Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast
    Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights
    And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,
    Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,
    As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,
    And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,
    That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights
    Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;
Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour staine.

All in amaze he suddenly vp start
    With sword in hand, and with the old man went;
    Who soone him brought into a secret part,
    Where that false couple were full closely ment
    In wanton lust and lewd embracement:
    Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,
    The eye of reason was with rage yblent,
    And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

Returning to his bed in torment great,
    And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,
    He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat,
    And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,
    Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.
    At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
    Had spent his lampe, and brought forth dawning light,
    Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;
The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.

Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire,
    Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,
    Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,
    And the high hils Titan discouered,
    The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed,
    And rising forth out of her baser bowre,
    Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
    And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre;
Then gan she waile and weepe, to see that woefull stowre.

And after him she rode with so much speede
    As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:
    For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,
    Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,
    That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;
    Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,
    But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine
    Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,
He so vngently left her, whom she loued best.

But subtill Archimago, when his guests
    He saw diuided into double parts,
    And Vna wandring in woods and forrests,
    Th'end of his drift, he praisd his diuelish arts,
    That had such might ouer true meaning harts;
    Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,
    How he may worke vnto her further smarts:
    For her he hated as the hissing snake,
And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise;
    For by his mightie science he could take
    As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,
    As euer Proteus to himselfe could make:
    Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,
    Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell,
    That of himselfe he oft for feare would quake,
    And oft would flie away. O who can tell
The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?

But now seemde best, the person to put on
    Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
    In mighty armes he was yclad anon,
    And siluer shield vpon his coward brest
    A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest
    A bounch of haires discolourd diuersly:
    Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,
    And when he sate vpon his courser free,
Saint George himself ye would haue deemed him to be.

But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,
    The true Saint George was wandred far away,
    Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare;
    Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.
    At last him chaunst to meete vpon the way
    A faithlesse Sarazin all arm'd to point,
    In whose great shield was writ with letters gay
    Sans foy: full large of limbe and euery ioint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

He had a faire companion of his way,
    A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,
    Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,
    And like a Persian mitre on her hed
    She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,
    The which her lauish louers to her gaue;
    Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred
    With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.

With faire disport and courting dalliaunce
    She intertainde her louer all the way:
    But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,
    She soone left off her mirth and wanton play,
    And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:
    His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride
    And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day,
    Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side
The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

The knight of the Redcrosse when him he spide,
    Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous,
    Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:
    Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,
    That daunted with their forces hideous,
    Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,
    And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,
    Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,
Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.

As when two rams stird with ambitious pride,
    Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,
    Their horned fronts so fierce on either side
    Do meete, that with the terrour of the shocke
    Astonied both, stand sencelesse as a blocke,
    Forgetfull of the hanging victory:
    So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,
    Both staring fierce, and holding idely
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.

The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe
    Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
    Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:
    Each others equall puissaunce enuies,
    And through their iron sides with cruell spies
    Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields
    No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies
    As from a forge out of their burning shields,
And streames of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin)
    That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;
    Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,
    Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:
    But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,
    And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest
    With rigour so outrageous he smitt,
    That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
    Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,
    And at his haughtie helmet making mark,
    So hugely stroke, that it the steele did riue,
    And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,
    With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
    Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue
    With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,
Whither the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.

The Lady when she saw her champion fall,
    Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
    Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,
    But from him fled away with all her powre;
    Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
    Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away
    The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.
    Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,
    Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show
    On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,
    And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low
    In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,
    Did much emmoue his stout hero¨icke heart,
    And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrow
    Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament;
    The wretched woman, whom vnhappy howre
    Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
    Before that angry heauens list to lowre,
    And fortune false betraide me to your powre,
    Was, (O what now auaileth that I was!)
    Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,
    He that the wide West vnder his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.

He in the first flowre of my freshest age,
    Betrothed me vnto the onely haire
    Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
    Was neuer Prince so faithfull and so faire,
    Was neuer Prince so meeke and debonaire;
    But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,
    My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire,
    Into the hands of his accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.

His blessed body spoild of liuely breath,
    Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid
    And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death
    When tidings came to me vnhappy maid,
    O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.
    Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,
    And many yeares throughout the world I straid,
    A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind
With loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.

At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin
    To meete me wandring, who perforce me led
    With him away, but yet could neuer win
    The Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.
    There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,
    Who whiles he liu'de, was called proud Sans foy,
    The eldest of three brethren, all three bred
    Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans ioy,
And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold Sans loy.

In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate,
    Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
    Crauing of you in pitty of my state,
    To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
    He in great passion all this while did dwell,
    More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
    Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
    And said, Faire Lady hart of flint would rew
The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.

Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest,
    Hauing both found a new friend you to aid,
    And lost an old foe, that did you molest:
    Better new friend then an old foe is said.
    With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid
    Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth,
    And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,
    So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.

Long time they thus together traueiled,
    Till weary of their way, they came at last,
    Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred
    Their armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,
    And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,
    Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:
    The fearefull Shepheard often there aghast
    Vnder them neuer sat, ne wont there sound
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th'vnlucky ground.

But this good knight soone as he them can spie,
    For the coole shade him thither hastly got:
    For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie,
    From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
    Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
    That liuing creature mote it not abide;
    And his new Lady it endured not.
    There they alight, in hope themselues to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.

Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes,
    With goodly purposes there as they sit:
    And in his falsed fancy he her takes
    To be the fairest wight, that liued yit;
    Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit,
    And thinking of those braunches greene to frame
    A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
    He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the same.

Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,
    Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teare
    My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,
    But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare
    Least to you hap, that happened to me heare,
    And to this wretched Lady, my deare loue,
    O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.
    Astond he stood, and vp his haire did houe,
And with that suddein horror could no member moue.

At last whenas the dreadfull passion
    Was ouerpast, and manhood well awake,
    Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
    And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
    What voyce of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,
    Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
    Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
    Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?

Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,)
    Nor guilefull sprite, to thee these wordes doth speake,
    But once a man Fradubio, now a tree,
    Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake,
    A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,
    Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
    Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake,
    And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:
For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.

Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,
    Quoth then the knight, by whose mischieuous arts
    Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see?
    He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;
    But double griefs afflict concealing harts,
    As raging flames who striueth to suppresse.
    The author then (said he) of all my smarts,
    Is one Duessa a false sorceresse,
That many errãt knights hath brought to wretchednesse.

In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot
    The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree
    First kindled in my brest, it was my lot
    To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye see,
    Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;
    With whom as once I rode accompanyde,
    Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,
    That had a like faire Lady by his syde,
Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.

Whose forged beauty he did take in hand,
    All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;
    I in defence of mine did likewise stand,
    Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:
    So both to battell fierce arraunged arre,
    In which his harder fortune was to fall
    Vnder my speare: such is the dye of warre:
    His Lady left as a prise martiall,
Did yield her comely person, to be at my call.

So doubly lou'd of Ladies vnlike faire,
    Th'one seeming such, the other such indeede,
    One day in doubt I cast for to compare,
    Whether in beauties glorie did exceede;
    A Rosy girlond was the victors meede:
    Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee,
    So hard the discord was to be agreede.
    Frælissa was as faire, as faire mote bee,
And euer false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.

The wicked witch now seeing all this while
    The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,
    What not by right, she cast to win by guile,
    And by her hellish science raisd streightway
    A foggy mist, that ouercast the day,
    And a dull blast, that breathing on her face,
    Dimmed her former beauties shining ray,
    And with foule vgly forme did her disgrace:
Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.

Then cride she out, Fye, fye, deformed wight,
    Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
    To haue before bewitched all mens sight;
    O leaue her soone, or let her soone be slaine.
    Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,
    Eftsoones I thought her such, as she me told,
    And would haue kild her; but with faigned paine,
    The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;
So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.

Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my Dame,
    And in the witch vnweeting ioyd long time,
    Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,
    Till on a day (that day is euery Prime,
    When Witches wont do penance for their crime)
    I chaunst to see her in her proper hew,
    Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme:
    A filthy foule old woman I did vew,
That euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.

Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous,
    Were hidd in water, that I could not see,
    But they did seeme more foule and hideous,
    Then womans shape man would beleeue to bee.
    Thensforth from her most beastly companie
    I gan refraine, in minde to slip away,
    Soone as appeard safe opportunitie:
    For danger great, if not assur'd decay
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

The diuelish hag by chaunges of my cheare
    Perceiu'd my thought, and drownd in sleepie night,
    With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare
    My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,
    That all my senses were bereaued quight:
    Then brought she me into this desert waste,
    And by my wretched louers side me pight,
    Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,
Banisht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waste.

But how long time, said then the Elfin knight,
    Are you in this misformed house to dwell?
    We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,
    Till we be bathed in a liuing well;
    That is the terme prescribed by the spell.
    O how, said he, mote I that well out find,
    That may restore you to your wonted well?
    Time and suffised fates to former kynd
Shall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight,
    Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,
    And knew well all was true. But the good knight
    Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment,
    When all this speech the liuing tree had spent,
    The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground,
    That from the bloud he might be innocent,
    And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:
Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.

Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare,
    As all vnweeting of that well she knew,
    And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare
    Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew
    And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew
    At last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheare
    Her vp he tooke, too simple and too trew,
And oft her kist. At length all passed feare,
He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.

Next: Canto III