Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast, 40
Whiles Una, with huge heavinesse opprest,
Could not for sorrow follow him so fast;

And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,
Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest
In secret shadow by a fountaine side:

Even he it was, that earst would have supprest
Faire Una; whom when Satyrane espide,
With foule reprochfull words he boldly him defide.
And said; "Arise, thou cursed Miscreaunt,
That hast with knightlesse guile, and trecherous
train,

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Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain :
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield."
The Sarazin, this hearing, rose amain,

And, catching up in hast his three-square shield
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.
And, drawing nigh him, said; "Ah! misborn Elfe, 42
In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent
Anothers wrongs to wreak upon thy selfe:
Yet ill thou blamest me for having blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent :
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never slew ;
But had he beene where earst his armes were lent,
Th' enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:
But thou his errour shalt, I hope, now proven trew."

Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,

To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile
Each other, bent his enimy to quell ;

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That with their force they perst both plate and maile, And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,

That it would pitty any living eie.

Large floods of blood adowne their sides did raile; But floods of blood could not them satisfie:

Both hongred after death; both chose to win, or die.

So long they fight, and full revenge pursue,

That, fainting, each themselves to breathen lett; And, ofte refreshed, battell oft renue.

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As when two Bores, with rancling malice mett, Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely frett; Til breathlesse both themselves aside retire, Where foming wrath their cruell tuskes they whett, And trample th' earth, the whiles they may respire, Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire. So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once, 45 They gan to fight retourne, increasing more Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce, With heaped strokes more hugely then before; That with their drery wounds, and bloody gore, They both, deformed, scarsely could bee known. By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore,

Led with their noise which through the aire was throwne,

Arriv'd wher they in erth their fruitles blood had sown. Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin

Espide, he gan revive the memory

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Of his leud lusts, and late attempted sin, And lefte the doubtfull battell hastily, To catch her, newly offred to his eie; But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, staid, And sternely bad him other businesse plie Then hunt the steps of pure unspotted Maid: Wherewith he al enrag'd these bitter speaches said. "O foolish faeries sonne! what fury mad Hath thee incenst to hast thy dolefull fate? Were it not better I that Lady had Then that thou hadst repented it too late? Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate, To love another: Lo! then, for thine ayd, Here take thy lovers token on thy pate." So they to fight; the whiles the royall Mayd Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.

But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing told,
Being in deed old Archimage, did stay
In secret shadow all this to behold;
And much rejoyced in their bloody fray:
But, when he saw the Damsell passe away,
He left his stond, and her pursewd apace,
In hope to bring her to her last decay..
But for to tell her lamentable cace,

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And eke this battels end, will need another place.

CANTO VII.

The Redcrosse knight is captive made
By Gyaunt proud opprest:
Prince Arthure meets with Una great-
ly with those newes distrest.

HAT man so wise, what earthly witt so ware, As to discry the crafty cunning traine, By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire, And cast her coulours, died deepe in graine, To seeme like truth, whose shape she well can faine, And fitting gestures to her purpose frame, The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine? Great maistresse of her art was that false Dame, The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes name.

Who when, returning from the drery Night,

She fownd not in that perilous hous of Pryde,
Where she had left the noble Redcrosse knight,
Her hoped pray, she would no lenger byde,
But forth she went to seeke him far and wide.
Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie sate
To rest himselfe foreby a fountaine syde,
Disarmed all of yron-coted Plate;

And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.

Hee feedes upon the cooling shade, and bayes

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3

His sweatie forehead in the breathing wynd, [playes,
Which through the trembling leaves full gently
Wherein the chearefull birds of sundry kynd
Doe chaunt sweet musick to delight his mynd.
The witch approching gan him fayrely greet,
And with reproch of carelesnes unkynd

Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet, [sweet. With foule words tempring faire, soure gall with hony

Unkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat,
And bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade,
Which shielded them against the boyling heat,
And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade,
About the fountaine like a girlond made;
Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly well,
Ne ever would through fervent sommer fade:
The sacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dianes favor, as it then befell.

The cause was this: one day, when Phoebe fayre 5
With all her band was following the chace,
This nymph, quite tyr'd with heat of scorching ayre,
Satt downe to rest in middest of the race:
The goddesse wroth gan fowly her disgrace,
And badd the waters, which from her did flow,
Be such as she her selfe was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters wexed dull and slow,
And all that drinke thereof do faint and feeble grow.
Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was;

And lying downe upon the sandie graile,
Dronke of the streame, as cleare as christall glas:
Eftsoones his manly forces gan to fayle,
And mightie strong was turnd to feeble frayle.
His chaunged powres at first them selves not felt;
Till crudled cold his corage gan assayle,
And cheareful blood in fayntnes chill did melt,
Which like a fever fit through all his bodie swelt.
Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame,

Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd, Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame; Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd, Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebownd,

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That all the earth for terror seemd to shake,
And trees did tremble. Th' Elfe, therewith astownd,
Upstarted lightly from his looser make,

And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.