Soone as she heard the name of Artegall, xxix Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble, And all her vitall powres with motion nimble, Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood. When Glauce thus gan wisely all upknit; XXX Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath brought, To be spectators of this uncouth fit, Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought, Against the course of kind, ne mervaile nought, Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought, Fearing least she your loves away should woo, Feared in vaine, sith meanes ye see there wants theretoo. And you Sir Artegall, the salvage knight, xxxi Henceforth may not disdaine, that womans hand That is the crowne of knighthood, and the band Which being knit with vertue, never will remove. And you faire Ladie knight, my dearest Dame, Xxxii The penance, which ye shall to him empart : But Artegall close smyling joy'd in secret hart. Yet durst he not make love so suddenly, Ne thinke th'affection of her hart to draw And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds withdraw; xxxiii Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand would restraine. But Scudamour whose hart twixt doubtfull feare xxxiv Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence, That where ye left, I may her seeke, as doth behove. To whom thus Britomart, Certes Sir knight, For from that time I from enchaunters theft Ne ever was there wight to me more deare Then she, ne unto whom I more true love did beare. XXXV Till on a day as through a desert wyld xxxvi I found her not, where I her left whyleare, But thought she wandred was, or gone astray. I cal'd her loud, I sought her farre and neare ; But no where could her find, nor tydings of her heare. When Scudamour those heavie tydings heard, xxxvii His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare; Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard, But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare, That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth beare. Till Glauce thus; Faire Sir, be nought dismayd With needelesse dread, till certaintie ye heare: For yet she may be safe though somewhat strayd; Its best to hope the best, though of the worst affrayd. Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight Xxxviii Shew'd change of better cheare: so sore a breach Till Britomart him fairely thus behight; Great cause of sorrow certes Sir ye have: I vow, you dead or living not to leave, Till I her find, and wreake on him that her did reave. Therewith he rested, and well pleased was. xxxix So peace being confirm'd amongst them all, All being guided by Sir Artegall. Where goodly solace was unto them made, And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall, Untill that they their wounds well healed had, And wearie limmes recur'd after late usage bad. In all which time, Sir Artegall made way And with meeke service and much suit did lay Which being whylome launcht with lovely dart, So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought her, To lend an eare, and softly to relent. At last through many vowes which forth he pour'd, And many othes, she yeelded her consent To be his love, and take him for her Lord, Till they with mariage meet might finish that accord. xl xli Arthegall and the Giant Book V, Canto II, xxx-liv THERE they beheld a mighty Gyant stand XXX If ought he had the same to counterpoys. He sayd that he would all the earth uptake, Of all whose weight, he would not misse a fether. For why, he sayd they all unequall were, Therefore the vulgar did about him flocke, xxxi xxxii Xxxiii |