That such a cursed creature lives so long a And the sad humor loading their eyeliddes, space.'

And forth he cald out of deepe darknes dredd Legions of Sprights, the which, like litle flyes Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd, [went. Awaite whereto their service he applyes, they To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies.

And, comming where the knight in slomber lay,
The one upon his hardie head him plaste,
And made him dreame of loves and lustfull play,
That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
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 chaste hart had subdewd to learne Dame
Pleasures toy.

XLVIII

And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne
Queene,

The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,
And threatned unto him the dreaded name
Of Hecate whereat he gan to quake,
And, lifting up his lompish head, with blame
Halfe angrie asked him, for what he came.
'Hether (qouth he,) 'me Archimago sent,
He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame, Her, whom he, waking, evermore did weene
Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to bring
He bids thee to him send for his intent [sent.
A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers

XLIV

The God obayde; and, calling forth straight
way

A diverse Dreame out of his prison darke,
Delivered it to him, and downe did lay
His heavie head, devoide of careful carke;
Whose sences all were straight benumbd and
starke.

He, backe returning by the Yvorie dore,
Remounted up as light as chearefull Larke;

To bee the chastest flowre that aye did spring
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,

Now a loose Leman to vile service bound:
And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,
Hymen Iö Hymen! dauncing all around;
Whylst freshest Flora her with Yvie girlond
crownd-

XLIX

In this great passion of unwonted lust,
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
He starteth up, as seeming to mistrust
Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his.

Lo! there before his face his Ladie is,
Under blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke;
And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
With gentle blandishment and lovely looke,
Most like that virgin true which for her
knight him took.

L

All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight,
And half enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought have slaine her in his fierce des-
pight;

Lets me not sleepe, but waste 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,

Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight
He would not shend; but said, 'Deare dame,
I rew,
[you grew.

But hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde his hand; and gan himselfe advise
To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth. That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto
Wringing her hands, in wemens pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth
Both for her noble blood, and for her tender
youth.

LI

And sayd, 'Ah Sir, my liege Lord, and my
Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate, [love,
And mightie causes wrought in heaven above,
Or the blind God that doth me thus amate,
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 indif-
ferently.

LII

'Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leave
My fathers kingdom'-There she stopt with
teares;

Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave,
And then againe begonne; ' My weaker yeares,
Captiv'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
Fly to your fayth for succour and sure ayde:
Let me not die in languor and long teares.'
'Why, Dame,' (quoth he,) 'what hath ye thus
dismayd?

LIV

'Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; For all so deare as life is to my hart,

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,
And fed with words that could not chose but
please :
[ease.
So, slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her

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.
At last, dull wearines of former fight
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,
That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his
braine

With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare dc-
light:

But, when he saw his labour all was vaine, What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me With that misformed spright he backe returnd affrayd ?"

againe.

I

CANTO II.

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead faire falshood steps,
And workes him woefull ruth.

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

To al that in the wide deepe wandring arre;
And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill
Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre
In hast was climbing up the Easterne hill, [fill:
Full envious that night so long his roome did

II

When those accursed messengers of hell, That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright,

Came to their wicked maister, and gan tel
Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding
night:

Who, all in rage to see his skilfull might
Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine,
And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright:
But, when he saw his threatning was but vaine,
He cast about; and searcht his baleful bokes
againe.

III

Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire,
And that false other Spright, on whom he spred
A seeming body of the subtile aire,
Like a young Squire, in loves and lusty-hed
His wanton daies that ever loosely led,
Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:
Those twoo he tooke, and in a secrete bed,
Covered with darkenes and misdeeming night,
Them both together laid to joy in vaine delight.

IV

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull Unto his guest,who, after troublous sights [hast And dreames, gan now to take more sound

repast;

Then up he rose, and clad him hastily:
The dwarfe him brought his steed; so both
away do fly.

vit

Now when the rosy fingred Morning faire,
Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,
Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,
And the high hils Titan discovered,
And, rising forth out of her baser bowre,
The royall virgin shooke off drousy-hed;
Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
And for her dwarfe, that wont to wait each
howre:
[woeful stowre.
Then gan she wail and weepe to see that

VIII

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

IX

But subtill Archimago, when his guests Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful frights, And Una wandring in woods and forrests, He saw divided into double parts, As one aghast with feends or damned sprights, Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish art, And to him cals; 'Rise, rise! unhappy Swaine, That had such might over true meaning harts: That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make, wights [chaine : Have knit themselves in Venus shameful For her he hated as the hissing snake, [take. How he may worke unto her further smarts; Come, see where your false Lady doth her And in her many troubles did most pleasure

honor staine.'

ΧΙ

Retourning to his bed in torment great,
And bitter anguish of his guilty sight,
But now seemde best the person to put on
He could not rest; but did his stout heart eat, Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
And wast his inward gall with deepe despight, In mighty armes he was yclad anon,
Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night. And silver shield; upon his coward brest
At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest
Had spent his lampe, and brought forth A bounch of heares discolourd diversly.

dawning light:

Full jolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest;

And when he sate upon his courser free,
Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed
him to be.

XII

But he, the knight whose semblaunt he did beare,

Astonied, both stand sencêlesse as a blöcke,
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

The true Saint George, was wandred far away, The Sarazin, sore daunted with the buffe,
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
A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde 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 God or man a point.

Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff':
Each others equall puissaunce envies,
Does seeke to perce; repining courage yields
And through their iron sides with cruell spies
No foote to foe: the flashing fier flies,
As from a forge, out of their burning shields;
And streams of purple bloud new die the ver-
dant fields.