He in the first flowre of my freshest age, 200 Betrothed me unto the onely haire Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage; Was never Prince so faithfull and so faire, Was never Prince so meeke and debonaire; But ere my hoped day of spousall shone, 205 My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire Into the hands of his accursed fone, And cruelly was slaine, that shall I ever mone.

XXIV

His blessed body spoild of lively breath, Was afterward, I know not how, convaid 210 And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death When tidings came to me, unhappy maid, O how great sorrow my sad soule a.s.said.

Then forth I went his woefull corse to find, And many yeares throughout the world I straid, 215 A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind With love long time did languish as the striken hind.

XXV

At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin To meete me wandring, who perforce me led With him away, but yet could never win 220 The Fort, that Ladies hold in soveraigne dread; There lies he now with foule dishonour dead, Who whiles he livde, was called proud Sansfoy, The eldest of three brethren, all three bred Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sansjoy; 225 And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sansloy.

XXVI

In this sad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate, Now miserable I Fidessa dwell, Craving of you in pitty of my state, To do none ill, if please ye not do well.

230 He in great pa.s.sion all this while did dwell, More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view, Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell; And said, Faire Lady hart of flint would rew The undeserved woes and sorrowes which ye shew.

XXVII

235 Henceforth in safe a.s.suraunce may ye rest, Having both found a new friend you to aid, And lost an old foe that did you molest: Better new friend then an old foe is said.

With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid 240 Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth, And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said, So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth, And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth.

XXVIII

Long time they thus together traveiled, 245 Till weary of their way, they came at last Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast, And their greene leaves trembling with every blast, Made a calme shadow far in compa.s.se round: 250 The fearfull Shepheard often there aghast Under them never sat, ne wont there sound His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' unlucky ground.

XXIX

But this good knight soone as he them can spie, For the cool shade him thither hastly got: 255 For golden Phbus now ymounted hie, From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot, That living creature mote it not abide; And his new Lady it endured not.

260 There they alight, in hope themselves to hide From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.

x.x.x

Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, With goodly purposes there as they sit: And in his falsed fancy he her takes 265 To be the fairest wight that lived yit; Which to expresse he bends his gentle wit, And thinking of those braunches greene to frame A girlond for her dainty forehead fit, He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came 270 Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the same.

x.x.xI

Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard, Crying, O spare with guilty hands to teare My tender sides in this rough rynd embard, But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare 275 Least to you hap, that happened to me heare, And to this wretched Lady, my deare love, O too deare love, love bought with death too deare.

Astond he stood, and up his haire did hove, And with that suddein horror could no member move.

x.x.xII

280 At last whenas the dreadfull pa.s.sion Was overpast, and manhood well awake, Yet musing at the straunge occasion, And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake; What voyce of d.a.m.ned Ghost from Limbo lake, 285 Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire, Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake, Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare, And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?

x.x.xIII

Then groning deepe, Nor d.a.m.ned Ghost, (quoth he,) 290 Nor guileful sprite to thee these wordes doth speake, But once a man Fradubio, now a tree, Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake, Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines, 295 Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines: For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.

x.x.xIV

Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree, Quoth then the knight, by whose mischievous arts 300 Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see?

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.

The author then (said he) of all my smarts, 305 Is one Duessa a false sorceresse, That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.

x.x.xV

In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot The fire of love and joy of chevalree First kindled in my brest, it was my lot 310 To love this gentle Lady, whom ye see, Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree; With whom as once I rode accompanyde, Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee, That had a like faire Lady by his syde, 315 Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.

x.x.xVI

Whose forged beauty he did take in hand, All other Dames to have exceeded farre; I in defence of mine did likewise stand, Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre.

320 So both to battell fierce arraunged arre, In which his harder fortune was to fall Under my speare: such is the dye of warre: His Lady left as a prise martiall, Did yield her comely person to be at my call.

x.x.xVII

325 So doubly lov'd of Ladies unlike faire, Th' one seeming such, the other such indeede, One day in doubt I cast for to compare, Whether in beauties glorie did exceede; A Rosy girlond was the victors meede: 330 Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee, So hard the discord was to be agreede.

Fraelissa was as faire, as faire mote bee, And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.

x.x.xVIII

The wicked witch now seeing all this while 335 The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway, What not by right, she cast to win by guile, And by her h.e.l.lish science raisd streightway A foggy mist, that overcast the day, And a dull blast, that breathing on her face, 340 Dimmed her former beauties shining ray, And with foule ugly forme did her disgrace: Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.

x.x.xIX

Then cride she out, Fye, fye, deformed wight, Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine 345 To have before bewitched all mens sight; O leave her soone, or let her soone be slaine.

Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine, Eftsoones I thought her such, as she me told, And would have kild her; but with faigned paine 350 The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold; So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.

XL

Then forth I tooke Duessa for my Dame, And in the witch unweeting joyd long time, Ne ever wist but that she was the same, 355 Till on a day (that day is every Prime, When Witches wont do penance for their crime) I chaunst to see her in her proper hew, Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme: A filthy foule old woman I did vew, 360 That ever to have toucht her I did deadly rew.

XLI

Her neather parts misshapen, monstruous, Were hidd in water, that I could not see.

But they did seeme more foule and hideous, Then womans shape man would beleeve to bee.

365 Thensforth from her most beastly companie I gan refraine, in minde to slip away, Soone as appeard safe opportunitie: For danger great, if not a.s.sur'd decay, I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.

XLII

370 The divelish hag by chaunges of my cheare Perceiv'd my thought, and drownd in sleepie night, With wicked herbs and ointments did besmeare My body all, through charms and magicke might, That all my senses were bereaved quight: 375 Then brought she me into this desert waste, And by my wretched lovers side me pight, Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste, Banisht from living wights, our wearie dayes we waste.

XLIII

But how long time, said then the Elfin knight, 380 Are you in this misformed house to dwell?

We may not chaunge (quoth he) this evil plight, Till we be bathed in a living well; That is the terme prescribed by the spell.

O how, said he, mote I that well out find, 385 That may restore you to your wonted well?

Time and suffised fates to former kynd Shall us restore, none else from hence may us unbynd.

XLIV

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament, 390 And knew well all was true. But the good knight Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment, When all this speech the living tree had spent, The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground, That from the bloud he might be innocent, 395 And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound: Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.

XLV

Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare, As all unweeting of that well she knew, And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare 400 Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eyelids blew And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew At last she up gan lift: with trembling cheare Her up he tooke, too simple and too trew, And oft her kist. At length all pa.s.sed feare, 405 He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare.

CANTO III Forsaken Truth long seekes her love, and makes the Lyon mylde, Marres blind Devotions mart, and fals in hand of leachour vylde.

I

NOUGHT is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse, That moves more deare compa.s.sion of mind, Then beautie brought t' unworthy wretchednesse Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind.

5 I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind, Or through alleageance and fast fealtie, Which I do owe unto all woman kind, Feele my hart perst with so great agonie, When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.

II

10 And now it is empa.s.sioned so deepe, For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe, To thinke how she through guilefull handeling, Though true as touch, though daughter of a king, 15 Though faire as ever living wight was faire, Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting, Is from her knight divorced in despaire, And her due loves deriv'd to that vile witches share.

III

Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while 20 Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd Far from all peoples prease, as in exile, In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, To seeke her knight; who subtilly betrayd Through that late vision, which th' Enchaunter wrought, 25 Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd, Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought; Yet wished tydings none of him unto her brought.

IV

One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, From her unhastie beast she did alight, 30 And on the gra.s.se her daintie limbes did lay In secret shadow, farre from all mens sight: From her faire head her fillet she undight, And laid her stole aside. Her angels face As the great eye of heaven shyned bright, 35 And made a sunshine in the shadie place; Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.

V

It fortuned out of the thickest wood A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly, Hunting full greedy after salvage blood; 40 Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have attonce devourd her tender corse: But to the pray when as he drew more ny, His b.l.o.o.d.y rage a.s.swaged with remorse, 45 And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

VI