Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed,
He to him lept, in minde to reave his life,
And proudly said; "Lo, there the worthie meed
Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloody knife:
Henceforth his ghost, freed from repining strife,
In peace may passen over Lethe lake;
When mourning altars, purgd with enimies life,
The black infernall Furies doen aslake:
Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take."
Therewith in haste his helmet gan unlace,
Till Una cride, "O hold that heavie hand,
Dear Sir, what ever that thou be in place:
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand
Now at thy mercy; mercy not withstand;
For he is one the truest Knight alive,
Though conquered now he lye on lowly land;
And, whilest him fortune favourd, fayre did thrive
In bloudy field; therefore of life him not deprive."
Her piteous wordes might not abate his rage;
But, rudely rending up his helmet, would
Have slayne him streight: but when he sees his
And hoarie head of Archimago old,
His hasty hand he doth amased hold,
And, halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight:
For that old man well knew he, though untold,
In charmes and magick to have wondrous might;
Ne ever wont in field, ne in round lists, to fight:
And said, "Why Archimago, lucklesse syre,
What doe I see? what hard mishap is this,
That hath thee hether brought to taste mine yre?
Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,
Instead of foe to wound my friend amis ?"
He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay,
And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his
The cloude of death did sit; which doen away,
He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay:
But to the Virgin comes; who all this while
Amased stands, herselfe so mockt to see
By him, who has the guerdon of his guile,
For so misfeigning her true Knight to bee:
Yet is she now in more perplexitie,
Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold,
From whom her booteth not at all to flie:
Who, by her cleanly garment catching hold,
Her from her palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold.
But her fiers servant, full of kingly aw
And high disdaine, whenas his soveraine Dame
So rudely handled by her foe he saw,
With gaping iawes full greedy at him came,
And, ramping on his shield, did weene the same
Have reft away with his sharp rending clawes:
But he was stout, and lust did now inflame
His corage more, that from his griping pawes He hath his shield redeemd; and forth his swerd
O then, too weake and feeble was the forse
Of salvage beast, his puissance to withstand!
For he was strong, and of so mightie corse,
As ever wielded speare in warlike hand;
And feates of armes did wisely understand.
Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest
With thrilling point of deadly yron brand,
And launcht his lordly hart: with death opprest
He ror'd aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne
Who now is left to keepe the forlorne Maid
From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will?
Her faithfull gard remov'd; her hope dismaid;
Her selfe a yielded pray to save or spill!
He now, lord of the field, his pride to fill,
With foule reproches and disdaineful spight
Her vildly entertaines; and, will or nill,
Beares her away upon his courser light :
Her prayers nought prevaile; his rage is more of
might.
And all the way, with great lamenting paine,
And piteous plaintes, she filleth his dull eares,
That stony hart could riven have in twaine;
And all the way she wetts with flowing teares;
But he, enrag'd with rancor, nothing heares."
Her servile beast' yet would not leave her so,
But follows her far off, ne ought he feares
To be partaker of her wandring woe.
More mild in beastly kind, then that her beastly foe.
To sinfull Hous of Pryde Duess
a guydes the faithfull Knight;
Where, brothers death to wreak, Sansioy
Doth chaleng him to fight.
YOUNG Knight whatever, that dost armes professe,
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,
In choice, and chaunge, of thy deare-loved dame;
Least thou of her believe too lightly blame,
And rash misweening doe thy hart remove:
For unto Knight there is no greater shame,
Then lightnesse and inconstancie in love :
That doth this Redcrosse Knights ensample plain-
ly prove.
Who, after that he had faire Una lorne,
Through light misdeeming of her loialtie;
And false Duessa in her sted had borne,
Called Fidess', and so supposd to be;
Long with her traveild; till at last they see
A goodly building, bravely garnished;
The house of mightie prince it seemd to be;
And towards it a broad high way that led,
All bare through peoples feet, which thether
traveiled.
Great troupes of people traveild thetherward
Both day and night, of each degree and place;
But few returned, having scaped hard,
With balefull beggery, or foule disgrace;
Which ever after in most wretched case,
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thether Duessa badd him bend his pace;
For she is wearie of the toilsom way;
And also nigh consumed is the lingring day.
A stately pallace built of squared bricke,
Which cunningly was without morter laid,
Whose wals were high, but nothing strong nor
thick,
And golden foile all over them displaid,
That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid :
High lifted up were many loftie towres,
And goodly galleries far over laid,
Full of faire windowes and delightful bowres;
And on the top a diall told the timely howres.
It was a goodly heape for to behould,
And spake the praises of the workmans witt:
But full great pittie, that so faire a mould
Did on so weake foundation ever sitt :
For on a sandie hill, that still did flitt
And fall away, it mounted was full hie:
That every breath of heaven shaked itt:
And all the hinder partes, that few could spie,
Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly.
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