32 At last whenas the dreadfull passion
Was overpast, and manhood well awake;
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
What voice of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?

33 Then, groning deep, Nor damned Ghost, quoth he, Nor guileful sprite to thee these words 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,
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.

34 Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree,

Quoth then the knight, by whose mischievous arts
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

Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse,

This many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.

35 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
To love this gentle Lady, whome 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;
Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.

36 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.
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.

37 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:

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.

38 The wicked witch now seeing all this while
The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway,
What not by right, she cast to win by guile,
And by her hellish science raisd streightway
A foggy mist that overcast the day,

And a dull blast that breathing on her face
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.

39 Then cride she out, Fye, fye, deformed wight
Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
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
The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold:
So left her, where she now is turned to treen mould.

40 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:
Till on a day (that day is everie 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,

That ever to have toucht her I did deadly rew.

Perceiv'd my thought, and, drownd in sleepie night,
With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare
My body all, through charmes and magicke might,
That all my senses were bereaved quight:
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.

43 But how long time, said then the Elfin knight,
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,

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.

44 The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight,

Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament,

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,

And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:
Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.

45 Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare,
As all unweeting of that well she knew;
And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare
Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew
And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew
At last she gan up lift: with trembling cheare
Her up he tooke, too simple and too trew,
And oft her kist. At length, all passed feare,

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 band of treachour vylde.

I NOUGHT is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse,
That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t' unworthie wretchednesse
Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind,
Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,
Which I do owe unto all womankind,

Feele my hart perst with so great agonie,
When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.

2 And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing,

That my frayle eyes these lines with teares do steepe,
To thinke how she through guileful handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
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 dew loves deriv'd to that vile witches share.

3 Yet she most faithfull Lady all this while

Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,

Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight; who, subtily betrayd

Through that late vision, which th' Enchaunter wrought, Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,

Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought; Yet wished tydings none of him unto her brought.