The morrow next gan early to appeare, 290 That t.i.tan rose to runne his daily race; But early ere the morrow next gan reare Out of the sea faire t.i.tans deawy face, Up rose the gentle virgin from her place, And looked all about, if she might spy 295 Her loved knight to move his manly pace: For she had great doubt of his safety, Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.

x.x.xIV

At last she saw, where he upstarted brave Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay: 300 As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean wave, Where he hath left his plumes all h.o.a.ry gray, And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay, Like Eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies, His newly budded pineons to a.s.say, 305 And marveiles at himselfe, still as he flies: So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.

x.x.xV

Whom when the d.a.m.ned feend so fresh did spy, No wonder if he wondred at the sight, And doubted, whether his late enemy 310 It were, or other new supplied knight.

He, now to prove his late renewed might, High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade, Upon his crested scalpe so sore did smite, That to the scull a yawning wound it made; 315 The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid.

x.x.xVI

I wote not, whether the revenging steele Were hardned with that holy water dew, Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele, Or his baptized hands now greater grew; 320 Or other secret vertue did ensew; Else never could the force of fleshly arme, Ne molten mettall in his blood embrew; For till that stownd could never wight him harme, By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.

x.x.xVII

325 The cruell wound enraged him so sore, That loud he yelded for exceeding paine; As hundred ramping Lyons seem'd to rore, Whom ravenous hunger did thereto constraine: Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine, 330 And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore, That to his force to yeelden it was faine; Ne ought his st.u.r.dy strokes might stand afore, That high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.

x.x.xVIII

The same advauncing high above his head, 335 With sharpe intended sting so rude him smot, That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead, Ne living wight would have him life behot: The mortall sting his angry needle shot Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd, 340 Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got: The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd, Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.

x.x.xIX

But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, Then of the grievous smart, which him did wring, 345 From loathed soile he can him lightly reare, And strove to loose the far infixed sting: Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling, Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he heft, And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string 350 Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft, Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.

XL

Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes, With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire, The h.e.l.l-bred beast threw forth unto the skyes, 355 That all was covered with darkenesse dire: Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire, He cast at once him to avenge for all, And gathering up himselfe out of the mire, With his uneven wings did fiercely fall, 360 Upon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.

XLI

Much was the man encombred with his hold, In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, Ne wist yet, how his talaunts to unfold; For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw 365 To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw To reave by strength the griped gage away: Thrise he a.s.sayd it from his foot to draw, And thrise in vaine to draw it did a.s.say, It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.

XLII

370 Tho when he saw no power might prevaile, His trustie sword he cald to his last aid, Wherewith he fiercely did his foe a.s.saile, And double blowes about him stoutly laid, That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid; 375 As sparckles from the Andvile use to fly, When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid; Therewith at last he forst him to unty One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.

XLIII

The other foot, fast fixed on his shield, 380 Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield, He smot thereat with all his might and maine, That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine; Upon the joint the lucky steele did light, 385 And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; The paw yett missed not his minisht might, But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.

XLIV

For griefe thereof and divelish despight, From his infernall fournace forth he threw 390 Huge flames, that dimmed all the heavens light, Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew: As burning Aetna from his boyling stew Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke, And ragged ribs of mountains molten new, 395 Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke, That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke.

XLV

The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire A little backward for his best defence, 400 To save his body from the scorching fire, Which he from h.e.l.lish entrailes did expire.

It chaunst (eternall G.o.d that chaunce did guide,) As he recoiled backward, in the mire His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide, 405 And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.

XLVI

There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red, As they in pure vermilion had beene dide, Whereof great vertues over all were red: 410 For happy life to all which thereon fed, And life eke everlasting did befall: Great G.o.d it planted in that blessed sted With his Almighty hand, and did it call The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall.

XLVII

415 In all the world like was not to be found, Save in that soile, where all good things did grow, And freely sp.r.o.ng out of the fruitfull ground, As incorrupted Nature did them sow, Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow.

420 Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did know Both good and ill: O mornefull memory: That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy.

XLVIII

From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, 425 A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine And dainty deare, which on the ground, still fell, And overflowed all the fertile plaine, As it had deawed bene with timely raine: Life and long health that gratious ointment gave, 430 And deadly wounds could heale and reare againe The senselesse corse appointed for the grave.

Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.

XLIX

For nigh thereto the ever d.a.m.ned beast Durst not approch, for he was deadly made, 435 And all that life preserved did detest: Yet he is oft adventur'd to invade.

By this the drouping day-light gan to fade, And yield his roome to sad succeeding night, Who with her sable mantle gan to shade 440 The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright.

L

When gentle Una saw the second fall Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight, And faint through losse of blood, mov'd not at all, 445 But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay, Againe she stricken was with sore affright, And for his safetie gan devoutly pray, 450 And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day.

LI

The joyous day gan early to appeare, And faire Aurora from the deawy bed Of aged t.i.thone gan herselfe to reare With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red; 455 Her golden locks for haste were loosely shed About her eares, when Una her did marke Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred; From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke, With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.

LII

460 Then freshly up arose the doughtie knight, All healed of his hurts and woundes wide, And did himselfe to battell ready dight; Whose early foe awaiting him beside To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde, 465 When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, As if late fight had nought him d.a.m.nifyde, He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare; Nathlesse with wonted rage he him advaunced neare.

LIII

And in his first encounter, gaping wide, 470 He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, And rusht upon him with outragious pride; Who him r'encountring fierce, as hauke in flight Perforce reb.u.t.ted backe. The weapon bright Taking advantage of his open jaw, 475 Ran through his mouth with so importune might, That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw, And back retyrd, his life blood forth with all did draw.

LIV

So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift; 480 So downe he fell, that th' earth him underneath Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift; So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift, Whose false foundation waves have washt away, With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift, 485 And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.

LV

The knight himselfe even trembled at his fall, So huge and horrible a ma.s.se it seem'd, And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all, 490 Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem'd; But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright, She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end: Then G.o.d she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight, 495 That had atchieved so great a conquest by his might.

CANTO XII Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight, betrouthed is with joy: Though false Duessa it to barre her false sleights doe imploy.

I

BEHOLD I see the haven nigh at hand, To which I meane my wearie course to bend; Vere the maine shete, and beare up with the land, The which afore is fairely to be kend, 5 And seemeth safe from storms that may offend; There this faire virgin wearie of her way Must landed be, now at her journeyes end: There eke my feeble barke a while may stay Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.

II

10 Sca.r.s.ely had Phbus in the glooming East Yet harnessed his firie-footed teeme, Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast; When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme 15 Unto the watchman on the castle wall, Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme, And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call, To tell how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.

III

Uprose with hastie joy, and feeble speed 20 That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land, And looked forth, to weet if true indeede Those tydings were, as he did understand, Which whenas true by tryall he out found, He bad to open wyde his brazen gate, 25 Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond Proclaymed joy and peace through all his state; For dead now was their foe which them forrayed late.

IV

Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie, That sent to heaven the ecchoed report 30 Of their new joy, and happie victorie Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort, And fast imprisoned in sieged fort.

Then all the people, as in solemne feast, To him a.s.sembled with one full consort, 35 Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast, From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.

V

Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene, Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground, And sad habiliments right well beseene; 40 A n.o.ble crew about them waited round Of sage and sober Peres, all gravely gownd; Whom farre before did march a goodly band Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd, But now they laurell braunches bore in hand; 45 Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land.

VI

Unto that doughtie Conquerour they came, And him before themselves prostrating low, Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame, And at his feet their laurell boughes did throw.

50 Soone after them all dauncing on a row The comely virgins came, with girlands dight, As fresh as flowres in medow greene do grow, When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light: And in their hands sweet Timbrels all upheld on hight.

VII

55 And them before, the fry of children young Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play, And to the Maydens sounding tymbrels sung, In well attuned notes, a joyous lay, And made delightfull musicke all the way, 60 Untill they came, where that faire virgin stood; As faire Diana in fresh sommers day, Beholds her Nymphes enraung'd in shadie wood, Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood: VIII

So she beheld those maydens meriment 65 With chearefull vew; who when to her they came, Themselves to ground with gracious humblesse bent, And her ador'd by honorable name, Lifting to heaven her everlasting fame: Then on her head they set a girland greene, 70 And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game; Who in her self-resemblance well beseene, Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.

IX