XXII

190 The same so sore annoyed has the knight, That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke, His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight.

Whose corage when the feend perceiv'd to shrinke, She poured forth out of her h.e.l.lish sinke 195 Her fruitfull cursed sp.a.w.ne of serpents small, Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke, With swarming all about his legs did crall, And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.

XXIII

As gentle Shepheard in sweete even-tide, 200 When ruddy Phoebus gins to welke in west, High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide, Markes which do byte their hasty supper best, A cloud of combrous gnattes do him molest, All striving to infixe their feeble stings, 205 That from their noyance he no where can rest, But with his clownish hands their tender wings He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

XXIV

Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame, Then of the certeine perill he stood in, 210 Halfe furious unto his foe he came, Resolv'd in minde all suddenly to win, Or soone to lose, before he once would lin And strooke at her with more then manly force, That from her body full of filthie sin 215 He raft her hatefull head without remorse; A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse.

XXV

Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare They saw so rudely falling to the ground, Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare, 220 Gathred themselves about her body round, Weening their wonted entrance to have found At her wide mouth: but being there withstood They flocked all about her bleeding wound, And sucked up their dying mothers blood, 225 Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.

XXVI

That detestable sight him much amazde, To see th' unkindly Impes, of heaven accurst, Devoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd, Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst, 230 Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst, And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end Of such as drunke her life, the which them nurst; Now needeth him no lenger labour spend, His foes have slaine themselves, with whom he should contend.

XXVII

235 His Ladie seeing all that chaunst, from farre Approcht in hast to greet his victorie, And said, Faire knight, borne under happy starre, Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye: Well worthie be you of that Armorie, 240 Wherin ye have great glory wonne this day, And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie, Your first adventure: many such I pray, And henceforth ever wish that like succeed it may.

XXVIII

Then mounted he upon his Steede againe, 245 And with the Lady backward sought to wend; That path he kept which beaten was most plaine, Ne ever would to any by-way bend, But still did follow one unto the end, The which at last out of the wood them brought.

250 So forward on his way (with G.o.d to frend) He pa.s.sed forth, and new adventure sought; Long way he travelled, before he heard of ought.

XXIX

At length they chaunst to meet upon the way An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad, 255 His feete all bare, his beard all h.o.a.rie gray And by his belt his booke he hanging had; Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad, And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent, Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad, 260 And all the way he prayed, as he went, And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.

x.x.x

He faire the knight saluted, louting low, Who faire him quited, as that courteous was: And after asked him, if he did know 265 Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas.

Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas, Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell, Bidding his beades all day for his trespas, Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?

270 With holy father sits not with such things to mell.

x.x.xI

But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell, And homebred evil ye desire to heare, Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell, That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.

275 Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere, And shall you well reward to shew the place, In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare: For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace, That such a cursed creature lives so long a s.p.a.ce.

x.x.xII

280 Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse His dwelling is, by which no living wight May ever pa.s.se, but thorough great distresse.

Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night, And well I wote, that of your later fight 285 Ye all forwearied be: for what so strong, But wanting rest will also want of might?

The Sunne that measures heaven all day long, At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waves emong.

x.x.xIII

Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest, 290 And with new day new worke at once begin: Untroubled night they say gives counsell best.

Right well Sir knight ye have advised bin, (Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win Is wisely to advise: now day is spent; 295 Therefore with me ye may take up your In For this same night. The knight was well content: So with that G.o.dly father to his home they went.

x.x.xIV

A little lowly Hermitage it was, Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side, 300 Far from resort of people, that did pas In travell to and froe: a little wyde There was an holy Chappell edifyde, Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say His holy things each morne and eventyde: 305 Thereby a Christall streame did gently play, Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.

x.x.xV

Arrived there, the little house they fill, Ne looke for entertainement, where none was: Rest is their feast, and all things at their will: 310 The n.o.blest mind the best contentment has.

With faire discourse the evening so they pas: For that old man of pleasing wordes had store, And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas, He told of Saintes and Popes, and evermore 315 He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before.

x.x.xVI

The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast, And the sad humour loading their eye liddes, As messenger of Morpheus on them cast Sweet s...o...b..ing deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.

320 Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes: Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes, He to this study goes, and there amiddes His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes, He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes.

x.x.xVII

325 Then choosing out few words most horrible, (Let none them read) thereof did verses frame, With which and other spelles like terrible, He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame, And cursed heaven and spake reprochfull shame 330 Of highest G.o.d, the Lord of life and light; A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night, At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.

x.x.xVIII

And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred 335 Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes Fluttring about his ever d.a.m.ned hed, Awaite whereto their service he applyes, To aide his friends, or fray his enimies: Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo, 340 And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes; The one of them he gave a message too, The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.

x.x.xIX

He making speedy way through spersed ayre, And through the world of waters wide and deepe, 345 To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.

Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe, And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe 350 In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred.

XL

Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, The one faire fram'd of burnisht Yvory, The other all with silver overcast; 355 And wakeful dogges before them farre do lye, Watching to banish Care their enimy, Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.

By them the Sprite doth pa.s.se in quietly, And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe 360 In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.

XLI

And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne 365 Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne: No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes, Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.

XLII

370 The messenger approching to him spake, But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine: So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.

Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe 375 Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.

As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake, He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.

XLIII

The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake, 380 And threatned unto him the dreaded name Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake, And lifting up his lumpish head, with blame Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.

Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent, 385 He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame, He bids thee to him send for his intent A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent.

XLIV

The G.o.d obayde, and, calling forth straightway A diverse dreame out of his prison darke, 390 Delivered it to him, and downe did lay His heavie head, devoide of carefull carke, Whose sences all were straight benumbed and starke.

He backe returning by the Yvorie dore, Remounted up as light as chearefull Larke, 395 And on his litle winges the dreame he bore In hast unto his Lord, where he him left afore.

XLV

Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes, Had made a Lady of that other Spright, And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes 400 So lively, and so like in all mens sight, That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight: The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt, Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight: Her all in white he clad, and over it 405 Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit.

XLVI

Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought, Unto that Elfin knight he bad him fly, Where he slept soundly void of evill thought, And with false shewes abuse his fantasy, 410 In sort as he him schooled privily: And that new creature, borne without her dew, Full of the makers guile, with usage sly He taught to imitate that Lady trew, Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew.

XLVII

415 Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast, And coming where the knight in s...o...b..r lay, The one upon his hardy head him plast And made him dreame of loves and l.u.s.tfull play, That nigh his manly hart did melt away, 420 Bathed in wanton blis and wicked joy: Then seemed him his Lady by him lay, And to him playnd, how that false winged boy, Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame Pleasures toy.

XLVIII

And she herselfe of beautie soveraigne Queene, 425 Fayre Venus seemde unto his bed to bring Her, whom he waking evermore did weene, To bee the chastest flowre, that ay did spring On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king, Now a loose Leman to vile service bound: 430 And eke the Graces seemed all to sing, Hymen Io Hymen dauncing all around, Whilst freshest Flora her with Yvie girlond crownd.

XLIX

In this great pa.s.sion of unwonted l.u.s.t, Or wonted feare of doing ought amis, 435 He started up, as seeming to mistrust Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his: Lo there before his face his Lady is, Under blake stole hyding her bayted hooke; And as halfe blushing offred him to kis, 440 With gentle blandishment and lovely looke, Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.