Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull Unto his guest, who, after troublous sights [hast And dreames, gan now to take more sound
Then up 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 discovered,
The royall virgin shooke off drousy-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
[woeful stowre.
howre:
Then gan she wail and weepe to see that
And after him she rode, with so much speede As her slowe 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 never rest; But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine, Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, He so ungently left her, whome she loved best.
But subtill Archimago, when his guests He saw divided into double parts, Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful frights, And Una wandring in woods and forrests, As one aghast with feends or damned sprights, Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish art2, And to him cals; Rise, rise! unhappy Swaine, That had such might over true meaning harts: That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make, [chaine: How he may worke unto her further smarts; wights Have knit themselves in Venus shameful For her he hated as the hissing snake, [take. Come, see where your false Lady doth her And in her many troubles did most pleasure
All in amaze he suddenly up 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 leud enbracement:
Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire;
The eie of reason was with rage yblent,
And would have slaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.
He then devisde himselfe how to disguise;
For by his mighty science he could take
As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,
As ever 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 ofte for feare would quake,
And oft would flie away. O! who can tell
The hidden powre of herbes, and might of
Magick spel?
Retourning to his bed in torment great,
But now seemde best the person to put on
And bitter anguish of his guilty sight,
He could not rest; but did his stout heart eat, Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
And wast his inward gall with deepe despight, In mighty armes he was yclad anon,
Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night. And silver shield; upon his coward brest
A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest
At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
Had spent his lampe, and brought forth A bounch of heares discolourd diversly.
|Full jolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest;
And when he sate upon his courser free,
Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed
him to be.
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
Forgetfull of the hanging victory:
Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a blocke,
So stood these twaine, unmoved 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 envies,
Does secke to perce; repining courage yields
And through their iron sides with cruell spies
No foote to foe: the flashing fier flies,
As from a forge, out of their burning shields;
And streams of purple bloud new die the ver-
dant fields.
'Curse on that Cross,' (quoth then the Sarazin,)
That keepes thy body from the bitter fitt!
Had not that charme from thee forwarned itt:
Dead long ygoe, I wote, thou haddest bin,
But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,
And hide thy head.' Therewith upon his crest
That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
With rigor so outrageous he smitt,
And glauncing downe his shield from blame
him fairly blest.
Of native vertue gan eftsoones revive; [spark
Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping
So hugely stroke, that it the steele did rive,
And at his haughty helmet making mark,
And cleft his head. He, tumbling downe alive,
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
Greeting his grave: his grudging ghost did
Whither the soules doe fly of men that live
With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,
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
Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay; [may.
The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.
For present cause was none of dread her to dis-
Shee turning backe, with ruefull countenaunce,
Cride, Mercy, mercy, Sir, vouchsafe to show Doe meete, that, with the terror of the shocke, And to your mighty wil!' Her humblesse Lou On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce,
He in great passion al this while did dwell,
More busying his quicke eies her face to view,
Then his dull eares to heare what shee did tell
And said, 'faire lady, hart of flint would rew
The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which ye
shew.
'Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest,
Having 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 chear the seeming simple
maid
Let fal her eien, as shamefast, to the earth,
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gainsaid,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And shee coy lookes: so dainty, they say,
maketh derth.
Long time they thus together traveiled;
Til. weary of their way, they came at last
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did
spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast:
And their greene leaves, trembling with every
Made a calme shadowe far in compasse round:
The fearefull shepheard, often there aghast,
Under them never sat, ne wont there sound
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' unlucky
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 living creature mote it not abide
And his new Lady it endured not.
From the tierce heat, and rest their weary limbs
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide
a tide.
Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other
With goodly purposes, there as they sit;
And in his falsed fancy he her takes
To be the fairest wight that lived yit;
Which to expresse he bends his gentle wit:
And, thinking of those braunches greene to
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit, [frame
He pluckt a bough; out of whose rifte there
[the same.
(Smal drops of gory bloud, that trickled down
At last whenas the dreadfull passion
Was overpast, and manhood well awake,
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake:
'What voice of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse
blood to spare?'
Whose forged beauty he did take in hand
All other Dames to have exceeded farre :
I in defence of mine did likewise stand, [starre.
Mine, that did then shine as the Morning
So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre,
In which his harder fortune was to fall
Under 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 lov'd of ladies, unlike faire,
Th' one seeming such, the other such indeede,
One day in doubt I cast for to compare
A Rosy girlond was the victors meede.
Whether in beauties glorie did exceede:
Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to
So hard the discord was to be agreede. [bee,
Frælissa was as faire as faire mote bee,
And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.
"The wicked witch, now seeing all this while Then, groning deep; 'Nor damned Ghost,' What not by right she cast to win by guile; The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway, (quoth he,) Nor guileful sprite to thee these words doth A foggy mist that overcast the day, [speake; And by her hellish science raisd streight way But once a man, Fradubio, now a tree: [weake And a dull blast, that breathing on her face Wretched man, wretched tree! whose nature Dimmed her former beauties shining ray, 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 seme, yet cold and heat me paines.'
Then was she fayre alone, when none was And with foule ugly forme did her disgrace: faire in place.
"Then cride she out, "Fye, fye! deformed wight,
'Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree,'
Quoth then the Knight; by whose mischievous. To have before bewitched all mens sight:
Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see? [arts! leave her soone, or let her soone be slaine."
He oft finds med'cine who his griefe imparts, Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine,
But double griefs afflict concealing harts.
As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.'
Eftsoones I thought her such as she me told,
'The author then,' (said he) of all my smarts,
And would have kild her; but with faigned
Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse,
paine [hold: That many errant knights hath broght to So left her, where she now is turnd to treen The false witch did my wrathfull hand withwretchednesse.
'Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my Dame,
hott And in the witch unweeting joyd long time,
Ne ever wist but that she was the same;
Till on a day (that day is everie Prime,
When Witches wont do penance for their
I chaunst to see her in her proper hew, [crime,)
Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme:
That ever to have toucht her I did deadly
A filthy foule old woman I did vew,
In prime of youthly yeares, when corage
The fire of love, and joy of chevalree,
First kindled in my brest, it was my lott
To love this gentle Lady, whome ye see
Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;
With whome, as once I rode accompanyde,
Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,
That had a like faire Lady by his syde;
Lyke a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.
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 beleeve to bee.
Thensforth from her most beastly companie
I gan refraine, in minde to slipp away,
Soone as appeard safe opportunitie:
For danger great, if not assurd decay, [stray.
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to
The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament, And knew well all was true. But the good Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment, [ knight, When all this speech the living tree had spent, 'The divelish hag by chaunges of my cheare The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground, Perceiv'd my thought; and, drownd in sleepie That from the blood he might be innocent, night, [smeare And with fresh clay did close the wooden With wicked herbes and oyntments did bewound: [her fownd. My body all, through charmes and magicke Then, turning to his Lady, dead with feare
And now it is empassioned so deepe. For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a
king,
Though faire as ever living wight was fayre,
Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,
Is from her knight divorced in despayre,
And her dew loves deryv'd to that vile witches
shayre.
Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this while
Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,
Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,
To seeke her knight; who, subtily betrayd
Through that late vision which th'Enchaunter
wrought,
Had her abandond. She, of nought affrayd, That my frayle eies these lines with teares do Through woods and wastnes wide him daily steepe,
[brought. To thinke how she through guyleful handeling, Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her
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