L

All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight, And half enraged at her shamelesse guise, He thought have slaine her in his fierce despight: 445 But hasty heat tempring with suffrance wise, He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe advise To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.

Wringing her hands in womans pitteous wise, Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth, 450 Both for her n.o.ble bloud, and for her tender youth.

LI

And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my love, Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate, And mightie causes wrought in heaven above, Or the blind G.o.d, that doth me thus amate, 455 For hoped love to winne me certaine hate?

Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.

Die is my dew; yet rew my wretched state You, whom my hard avenging destinie Hath made judge of my life or death indifferently.

LII

460 Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leave My Fathers kingdome-There she stopt with teares; Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave, And then againe begun; My weaker yeares Captiv'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares, 465 Fly to your fayth for succour and sure ayde: Let me not dye in languor and long teares.

Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?

What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?

LIII

Love of your selfe, she saide, and deare constraint, 470 Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night In secret anguish and unpittied plaint, Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.

Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight Suspect her truth: yet since no' untruth he knew, 475 Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight He would not shend; but said, Deare dame I rew, That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto you grew.

LIV

a.s.sure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; For all so deare as life is to my hart, 480 I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound: Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart, Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.

Not all content, yet seemd she to appease Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art, 485 And fed with words that could not chuse but please, So slyding softly forth, she turned as to her ease.

LV

Long after lay he musing at her mood, Much griev'd to thinke that gentle Dame so light, For whose defence he was to shed his blood.

490 At last, dull wearinesse of former fight Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright, That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine, With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight: But when he saw his labour all was vaine, 495 With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

CANTO II The guilefull great Enchaunter parts the Redcrosse Knight from truth, Into whose stead faire Falshood steps, and workes him wofull ruth.

I

BY this the Northerne wagoner had set His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre, That was in Ocean waves yet never wet, But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre 5 To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre: And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill Had warned once, that Phbus fiery carre In hast was climbing up the Easterne hill, Full envious that night so long his roome did fill.

II

10 When those accursed messengers of h.e.l.l, That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night: Who all in rage to see his skilfull might 15 Deluded so, gan threaten h.e.l.lish paine And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.

But when he saw his threatning was but vaine, He cast about, and searcht his baleful bookes againe.

III

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire, 20 And that false other Spright, on whom he spred A seeming body of the subtile aire, Like a young Squire, in loves and l.u.s.tybed His wanton dayes that ever loosely led, Without regard of armes and dreaded fight: 25 Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed, Coverd with darknesse and misdeeming night, Them both together laid, to joy in vaine delight.

IV

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast Unto his guest, who after troublous sights 30 And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast, Whom suddenly he wakes with fearfull frights, As one aghast with feends or d.a.m.ned sprights, And to him cals, Rise, rise, unhappy Swaine That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights 35 Have knit themselves in Venus shameful chaine, Come see where your false Lady doth her honour staine.

V

All in amaze he suddenly upstart With sword in hand, and with the old man went Who soone him brought into a secret part 40 Where that false couple were full closely ment In wanton l.u.s.t and leud embracement: Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire, The eye of reason was with rage yblent, And would have slaine them in his furious ire, 45 But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

VI

Returning to his bed in torment great, And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight, He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat, And wast his inward gall with deepe despight, 50 Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.

At last faire Hesperus in highest skie Had spent his lampe and brought forth dawning light, Then up he rose, and clad him hastily; The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.

VII

55 Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire, Weary of aged t.i.thones saffron bed, Had spread her purple robe through deawy aire, And the high hils t.i.tan discovered, The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed; 60 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 houre: Then gan she waile and weepe, to see that woefull stowre.

VIII

And after him she rode with so much speede 65 As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine: For him so far had borne his light-foot steede, p.r.i.c.ked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine, That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine; Yet she her weary limbes would never rest, 70 But every hill and dale, each wood and plaine, Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, He so ungently left her, whom she loved best.

IX

But subtill Archimago, when his guests He saw divided into double parts, 75 And Una wandring in woods and forrests, Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish arts, That had such might over true meaning harts: Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make, How he may worke unto her further smarts: 80 For her he hated as the hissing snake, And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

X

He then devisde himselfe how to disguise; For by his mightie science he could take As many formes and shapes in seeming wise, 85 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 90 The hidden power of herbes and might of Magicke spell?

XI

But now seemde best the person to put on Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest: In mighty armes he was yclad anon: And silver shield, upon his coward brest 95 A bloudy crosse, and on his craven crest A bounch of haires discolourd diversly: Full jolly knight he seemde, and well addrest, And when he sate upon his courser free, Saint George himself ye would have deemed him to be.

XII

100 But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare, The true Saint George, was wandred far away, Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare; Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.

At last him chaunst to meete upon the way 105 A faithless Sarazin all arm'd to point, In whose great shield was writ with letters gay Sans foy: full large of limbe and every joint He was, and cared not for G.o.d or man a point.

XIII

He had a faire companion of his way, 110 A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red, Purfled with gold and pearle of rich a.s.say, And like a Persian mitre on her hed She wore, with crowns and owches garnished, The which her lavish lovers to her gave; 115 Her wanton palfrey all was overspred With tinsell trappings, woven like a wave, Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave.

XIV

With faire disport and courting dalliaunce She intertainde her lover all the way: 120 But when she saw the knight his speare advaunce, She soone left off her mirth and wanton play, And bade her knight addresse him to the fray: His foe was nigh at hand. He p.r.i.c.kt with pride And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day, 125 Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.

XV

The knight of the Redcrosse when him he spide, Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous, Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride: 130 Soone meete they both, both fell and furious, That daunted with their forces hideous, Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand, And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous, Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand 135 Doe backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.

XVI

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 Do meete, that with the terrour of the shocke 140 Astonied both, stand sencelesse as a blocke, Forgetfull of the hanging victory: So stood these twaine, unmoved as a rocke, Both staring fierce, and holding idely The broken reliques of their former cruelty.

XVII

145 The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe s.n.a.t.c.heth his sword, and fiercely to him flies; Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff: Each others equall puissaunce envies, And through their iron sides with cruell spies 150 Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies As from a forge out of their burning shields, And streams of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

XVIII

Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin), 155 That keepes thy body from the bitter fit; Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin, Had not that charme from thee forwarned it: But yet I warne thee now a.s.sured sitt, And hide thy head. Therewith upon his crest 160 With rigour so outrageous he smitt, That a large share it hewd out of the rest, And glauncing down his shield from blame him fairly blest.

XIX

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark Of native vertue gan eftsoones revive, 165 And at his haughtie helmet making mark, So hugely stroke, that it the steele did rive, And cleft his head. He tumbling downe alive, With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis.

Greeting his grave: his grudging ghost did strive 170 With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is, Whither the soules do fly of men that live amis.

XX

The Lady when she saw her champion fall, Like the old ruines of a broken towre, Staid not to waile his woefull funerall, 175 But from him fled away with all her powre; Who after her as hastily gan scowre, Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.

Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay, 180 For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.

XXI

She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce, Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce, And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low 185 In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show, Did much emmove his stout heroicke heart, And said, Deare dame, your suddin overthrow Much rueth me; but now put feare apart, And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

XXII

190 Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament; The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre Hath now made thrall to your commandement, Before that angry heavens list to lowre, And fortune false betraide me to your powre, 195 Was, (O what now availeth that I was!) Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour, He that the wide West under his rule has, And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.

XXIII