With fair disport, and courting dalliance,
She entertain❜d her lover all the way:
But, when she saw the knight his spear advance,
She soon left off her mirth and wanton play,
And bade her knight address him to the fray;
His foe was nigh at hand. He, prick't with pride,
And hope to win his lady's heart that day,
Forth spurred fast; adown his courser's side
The red blood trickling stain'd the way, as he did ride.
The knight of the Redcross, when him he spied
Spurring so hot, with rage dispiteous,
Gan fairly couch his spear, and towards ride:
Soon meet 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 own hand,
Do back rebut, and each to other yieldeth land.
As when two rams, stirr'd with ambitious pride,
Fight for the rule of the rich-fleeced flock,
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side
Do meet, that, with the terror of the shock
Astonied, both stand senseless as a block,
Forgetful of the hanging victory:
So stood these twain, unmoved as a rock,
Both staring fierce, and holding idely
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
The Saracen, sore daunted with the buff,
Snatched his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quiteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equal puissaunce envies,
And through their iron sides with cruel spies
Does seek to pierce; repining courage yields
No foot to foe the flashing fiër flies,
As from a forge, out of their burning shields;
And streams of purple blood new dye the verdant fields.
"Curse on that cross," quoth then the Saracen,
"That keeps thy body from the bitter fit;
Dead long ago, I wot, thou haddest been,
Had not that charm from thee forwarned it :
But yet I warn thee now assured sit,
And hide thy head." Therewith upon his crest
With rigor so outrageous he smit,
That a large share it hew'd out of the rest,
And glancing down his shield from blame him fairly blest.
Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
Of native virtue gan eftsoones revive;
And, at his haughty helmet making mark,
So hugely struck, that it the steel did rive,
And cleft his head: he, tumbling down alive,
With bloody mouth his mother earth did kiss,
Greeting his grave: his grudging ghost did strive
With the frail flesh; at last it flitted is,
Whither the souls do fly of men, that live amiss.
The lady, when she saw her champion fall,
Like the old ruins of a broken tower,
Staid not to wail his woeful funeral;
But from him fled away with all her power:
Who after her as hastily gan scour,
Bidding the dwarf with him to bring away
The Saracen's shield, sign of the conqueror :
Her soon he overtook, and bad to stay ;
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.
She turning back, with rueful countenance,
Cried, "Mercy, mercy, sir, vouchsafe to show
On silly dame, subject to hard mischance,
And to your mighty will." Her humbless low
In so rich weeds, and seeming glorious show,
Did much emmove his stout heroick heart;
And said, "Dear dame, your sudden overthrow
Much rueth me; but now put fear apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that took your part."
Melting in tears, then gan she thus lament;
"The wretched woman, whom unhappy hour
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heavens list to lower,
And fortune false betray'd me to your power,
Was (O what now availeth that I was!)
Borne the sole daughter of an emperor ;
He that the wide west under his rule has,
And high hath set his throne where Tiberis doth pass.
He, in the first flower of my freshest age,
Betrothed me unto the only heir
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was never prince so faithful and so fair,
Was never prince so meek and debonair!
But, ere my hoped day of spousal shone,
My dearest lord fell from high honor's stair
Into the hands of his accursed fone,*
And cruelly was slain; that shall I ever moan!
"His blessed body, spoild of lively breath,
Was afterward, I know not how, convey'd,
And from me hid; of whose most innocent death
When tidings came to me, unhappy maid,
O, how great sorrow my sad soul assay'd!
Then forth I went his woful corse to find,
And many years throughout the world I stray'd,
A virgin widow; whose deep-wounded mind
With love long time did languish, as the stricken hind.
"In this sad plight, friendless, unfortunate,
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you, in pity of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well."
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quick eyes, her face to view,
Than his dull ears, to hear what she did tell;
And said, "Fair lady, heart of flint would rue
The undeserved woes and sorrows, which ye shew.
"Henceforth in safe assurance may ye rest,
Having both found a new friend you to aid,
And lost an old foe that did you molest:
Better new friend than old foe it is said."
With change of cheer the seeming-simple maid
Let fall her eyes, as shamefast, to the earth,
And yielding soft, in that she nought gainsaid.
So forth they rode, he feigning seemly mirth,
And she coy looks: so dainty, they say, maketh dearth.
Long time they thus together travelled;
Till weary of their way, they came at last
Where grew two goodly trees, that fair did spread
Their arms abroad, with gray moss overcast;
And their green leaves, trembling with every blast,
Made a calm shadow far in compass round:
The fearful shepherd, often there aghast,
Under them never sat, nor wont there sound
His merry oaten pipe; but shun'd th' unlucky ground.
But this good knight, soon as he them can spy
For the cool shade him thither hast❜ly got ;
For golden Phoebus, now ymounted high,
From fiery wheels of his fair chariot
Hurled his beam so scorching cruel hot,
That living creature might it not abide;
And his new lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
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