150 Then called she a Groome, that forth him led Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed; His name was meeke Obedience rightfully ared.

XVIII

Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, 155 And bodies were refresht with due repast, Faire Una gan Fidelia faire request, To have her knight into her schoolehouse plaste, That of her heavenly learning he might taste, And heare the wisedom of her words divine.

160 She graunted, and that knight so much agraste, That she him taught celestiall discipline, And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.

XIX

And that her sacred Booke, with blood ywrit, That none could read, except she did them teach, 165 She unto him disclosed every whit, And heavenly doc.u.ments thereout did preach, That weaker wit of man could never reach, Of G.o.d, of grace, of justice, of free will, That wonder was to heare her goodly speach: 170 For she was able with her words to kill, And raise againe to life the hart that she did thrill.

XX

And when she list poure out her larger spright, She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay, Or backward turne his course from heavens hight; 175 Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay; [Dry-shod to pa.s.se she parts the flouds in tway;]

And eke huge mountaines from their native seat She would commaund, themselves to beare away, And throw in raging sea with roaring threat.

180 Almightie G.o.d her gave such powre, and puissaunce great.

XXI

The faithfull knight now grew in litle s.p.a.ce, By hearing her, and by her sisters lore, To such perfection of all heavenly grace, That wretched world he gan for to abh.o.r.e, 185 And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore, Greevd with remembrance of his wicked wayes, And p.r.i.c.kt with anguish of his sinnes so sore, That he desirde to end his wretched dayes: So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.

XXII

190 But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet, And taught him how to take a.s.sured hold Upon her silver anchor, as was meet; Else had his sinnes so great and manifold Made him forget all that Fidelia told.

195 In this distressed doubtfull agonie, When him his dearest Una did behold, Disdeining life, desiring leave to die, She found her selfe a.s.sayld with great perplexitie.

XXIII

And came to Clia to declare her smart, 200 Who well acquainted with that commune plight, Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart, Her wisely comforted all that she might, With goodly counsell and advis.e.m.e.nt right; And streightway sent with carefull diligence, 205 To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight In that disease of grieved conscience, And well could cure the same; his name was Patience.

XXIV

Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, Could hardly him intreat to tell his griefe: 210 Which knowne, and all that noyd his heavie spright Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply relief Of salves and med'cines, which had pa.s.sing priefe, And thereto added words of wondrous might; By which to ease he him recured briefe, 215 And much aswag'd the pa.s.sion of his plight, That he his paine endur'd, as seeming now more light.

XXV

But yet the cause and root of all his ill, Inward corruption and infected sin, Not purg'd nor heald, behind remained still, 220 And festring sore did rankle yet within, Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.

Which to extirpe, he laid him privily Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in, Whereas he meant his corrosives to apply, 225 And with streight diet tame his stubborne malady.

XXVI

In ashes and sackcloth he did array His daintie corse, proud humors to abate, And dieted with fasting every day, The swelling of his wounds to mitigate, 230 And made him pray both earely and eke late: And ever as superfluous flesh did rot Amendment readie still at hand did wayt, To pluck it out with pincers firie whot, That soone in him was left no one corrupted jot.

XXVII

235 And bitter Penance with an yron whip, Was wont him once to disple every day: And sharpe Remorse his hart did p.r.i.c.ke and nip, That drops of blood thence like a well did play: And sad Repentance used to embay 240 His bodie in salt water smarting sore, The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.

So in short s.p.a.ce they did to health restore The man that would not live, but earst lay at deathes dore.

XXVIII

In which his torment often was so great, 245 That like a Lyon he would cry and rore, And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat.

His owne deare Una hearing evermore His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare, 250 For pitty of his paine and anguish sore; Yet all with patience wisely she did beare; For well she wist his crime could else be never cleare.

XXIX

Whom thus recover'd by wise Patience And trew Repentaunce they to Una brought: 255 Who joyous of his cured conscience, Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought To put away out of his carefull brest.

By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought, 260 Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest; To her faire Una brought this unacquainted guest.

x.x.x

She was a woman in her freshest age, Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare, With goodly grace and comely personage, 265 That was on earth not easie to compare; Full of great love, but Cupid's wanton snare As h.e.l.l she hated, chast in worke and will; Her necke and b.r.e.a.s.t.s were ever open bare, That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill; 270 The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still.

x.x.xI

A mult.i.tude of babes about her hong, Playing their sports, that joyd her to behold, Whom still she fed, whiles they were weake and young, But thrust them forth still as they wexed old: 275 And on her head she wore a tyre of gold, Adornd with gemmes and owches wondrous faire, Whose pa.s.sing price uneath was to be told: And by her side there sate a gentle paire Of turtle doves, she sitting in an yvorie chaire.

x.x.xII

280 The knight and Una entring faire her greet, And bid her joy of that her happie brood; Who them requites with court'sies seeming meet, And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.

Then Una her besought, to be so good 285 As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight, Now after all his torment well withstood, In that sad house of Penaunce, where his spright Had past the paines of h.e.l.l, and long enduring night.

x.x.xIII

She was right joyous of her just request, 290 And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne, Gan him instruct in every good behest, Of love, and righteousnesse, and well to donne, And wrath, and hatred warely to shonne, That drew on men G.o.ds hatred and his wrath, 295 And many soules in dolours had fordonne: In which when him she well instructed hath, From thence to heaven she teacheth him the ready path.

x.x.xIV

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide, An auncient matrone she to her does call, 300 Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride: Her name was Mercie, well knowne over all, To be both gratious, and eke liberall: To whom the carefull charge of him she gave, To lead aright, that he should never fall 305 In all his wayes through this wide worldes wave, That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might save.

x.x.xV

The G.o.dly Matrone by the hand him beares Forth from her presence, by a narrow way, Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares, 310 Which still before him she remov'd away, That nothing might his ready pa.s.sage stay: And ever when his feet encombred were, Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray, She held him fast, and firmely did upbeare, 315 As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.

x.x.xVI

Eftsoones unto an holy Hospitall, That was fore by the way, she did him bring, In which seven Bead-men that had vowed all Their life to service of high heavens king, 320 Did spend their dayes in doing G.o.dly thing: Their gates to all were open evermore, That by the wearie way were traveiling, And one sate wayting ever them before, To call in commers by, that needy were and pore.

x.x.xVII

325 The first of them that eldest was, and best, Of all the house had charge and governement, As Guardian and Steward of the rest: His office was to give entertainement And lodging, unto all that came, and went: 330 Not unto such, as could him feast againe, And double quite, for that he on them spent, But such, as want of harbour did constraine: Those for G.o.ds sake his dewty was to entertaine.

x.x.xVIII

The second was as Almner of the place, 335 His office was, the hungry for to feed, And thristy give to drinke, a worke of grace: He feard not once him selfe to be in need, Ne car'd to hoord for those whom he did breede: The grace of G.o.d he layd up still in store, 340 Which as a stocke he left unto his seede; He had enough, what need him care for more?

And had he lesse, yet some he would give to the pore.

x.x.xIX

The third had of their wardrobe custodie, In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay, 345 The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie, But clothes meet to keepe keene could away, And naked nature seemely to aray; With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad, The images of G.o.d in earthly clay; 350 And if that no spare cloths to give he had, His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.

XL

The fourth appointed by his office was, Poore prisoners to relieve with gratious ayd, And captives to redeeme with price of bras, 355 From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd, And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd, That G.o.d to us forgiveth every howre Much more then that why they in bands were layd, And he that harrowd h.e.l.l with heavie stowre, 360 The faultie soules from thence brought to his heavenly bowre.

XLI

The fift had charge sicke persons to attend, And comfort those, in point of death which lay; For them most needeth comfort in the end, When sin, and h.e.l.l, and death do most dismay 365 The feeble soule departing hence away.

All is but lost, that living we bestow, If not well ended at our dying day.

O man have mind of that last bitter throw For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever low.

XLII

370 The sixt had charge of them now being dead, In seemely sort their corses to engrave, And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed, That to their heavenly spouse both sweet and brave They might appeare, when he their soules shall save.

375 The wondrous workmanship of G.o.ds owne mould, Whose face he made all beasts to feare, and gave All in his hand, even dead we honour should.

Ah dearest G.o.d me graunt, I dead be not defould.

XLIII

The seventh, now after death and buriall done, 380 Had charge the tender orphans of the dead And widowes ayd, least they should be undone: In face of judgement he their right would plead, Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread In their defence, nor would for gold or fee 385 Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread: And, when they stood in most necessitee, He did supply their want, and gave them ever free.

XLIV

There when the Elfin knight arrived was, The first and chiefest of the seven, whose care 390 Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas: Where seeing Mercie, that his steps upbare, And alwayes led, to her with reverence rare He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse, And seemely welcome for her did prepare: 395 For of their order she was Patronesse, Albe Charissa were their chiefest founderesse.

XLV

There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest, That to the rest more able he might bee: During which time, in every good behest 400 And G.o.dly worke of almes and charitee, She him instructed with great industree; Shortly therein so perfect he became, That from the first unto the last degree, His mortall life he learned had to frame 405 In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.

XLVI