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"And ye, the forlorne reliques of his powre,
His biting sword, and his devouring speare,
Which have endured many a dreadfull stowre,
Can speake his prowesse that did earst you beare,
And well could rule; now he hath left you heare
To be the record of his ruefull losse,

And of my dolefull disadventurous deare.

O! heavie record of the good Redcrosse, [tosse? Where have yee left your lord that could so well you

"Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had,

That he my captive languor should redeeme:
Till, all unweeting, an Enchaunter bad
His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme
My loyalty, not such as it did seeme,
That rather death desire then such despight.

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Be judge, ye heavens, that all things right esteeme, How I him lov'd, and love with all my might. So thought I eke of him, and think I thought aright.

"Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke,

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To wander where wilde fortune would me lead, And other bywaies he himselfe betooke, Where never foote of living wight did tread, That brought not backe the balefull body dead: In which him chaunced false Duessa meete, Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread; Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming sweete, Inveigled him to follow her desires unmeete.

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"At last, by subtile sleights she him betraid
Unto his foe, a Gyaunt huge and tall;
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,
Unwares surprised, and with mighty mall
The monster mercilesse him made to fall,
Whose fall did never foe before behold:
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Remedilesse for aie he doth him hold.

[told."

This is my cause of griefe, more great then may be

Ere she had ended all she gan to faint:

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But he her comforted, and faire bespake:
"Certes, Madame, he have great cause of plaint,
That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake:
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take;
For till I have acquitt your captive knight,
Assure your selfe I will you not forsake."

His chearefull words reviv'd her chearelesse spright, So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding ever right.

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CANTO VIII.

Faire virgin, to redeeme her deare,
Brings Arthure to the fight:

Who slayes the Gyaunt, wounds the beast,
And strips Duessa quight.

Y me! how many perils doe enfold

I

[hold,

The righteous man, to make him daily fall, Were not that heavenly grace doth him upAnd stedfast truth acquite him out at all. Her love is firme, her care continuall, So oft as he, thorough his own foolish pride Or weaknes, is to sinfull bands made thrall:

Els should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dyde, For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thether

guyd.

They sadly traveild thus, untill they came

Nigh to a castle builded strong and hye:

2

Then cryde the Dwarfe, "Lo! yonder is the same, In which my Lord, my liege, doth lucklesse ly Thrall to that Gyaunts hatefull tyranny: Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay." The noble knight alighted by and by

From loftie steed, and badd the Ladie stay, To see what end of fight should him befall that day. So with his Squire, th' admirer of his might,

He marched forth towardes that castle wall; Whose gates he fownd fast shutt, ne living wight To warde the same, nor answere commers call. Then tooke that Squire an horne of bugle small, Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold And tasselles gay. Wyde wonders over all Of that same hornes great virtues weren told, Which had approved bene in uses manifold.

Was never wight that heard that shrilling sownd, 4
But trembling feare did feel in every vaine :
Three miles it might be easy heard arownd,
And Ecchoes three aunswer'd it selfe againe :
No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine,
Might once abide the terror of that blast,
But presently was void and wholly vaine :

No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast,
But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.

5

The same before the Geaunts gate he blew,
That all the castle quaked from the grownd,
And every dore of freewill open flew.
The Gyaunt selfe, dismaied with that sownd,
Where he with his Duessa dalliaunce fownd,
In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,
With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,
And staggering steps, to weet what suddein stowre
Had wrought that horror strange, and dar'd his dreaded

powre.

And after him the proud Duessa came,

High mounted on her many headed beast;
And every head with fyrie tongue did flame,
And every head was crowned on his creast,
And bloody mouthed with late cruell feast.
That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild
Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,
And at him fiersly flew, with corage fild,

And eger greedinesse through every member thrild,
Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight,

Inflamd with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,
And lifting up his dreadfull club on hight,
All armd with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,
Him thought at first encounter to have slaine.
But wise and wary was that noble Pere;
And, lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,
Did fayre avoide the violence him nere:

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7

It booted nought to thinke such thunderbolts to beare.

Ne shame he thought to shonne so hideous might: 8
The ydle stroke, enforcing furious way,
Missing the marke of his misaymed sight,
Did fall to ground, and with his heavy sway
So deepely dinted in the driven clay,

That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw.
The sad earth, wounded with so sore assay,
Did grone full grievous underneath the blow,
And trembling with strange feare did like an erth-
quake show.

As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull mood,
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,
Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,
Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;
The fiers threeforked engin, making way,
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,
And all that might his angry passage stay;
And, shooting in the earth, castes up a mount of clay.

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His boystrous club, so buried in the grownd,
He could not rearen up againe so light,
But that the Knight him at advantage fownd;
And, whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight
Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright
He smott of his left arme, which like a block
Did fall to ground, depriv'd of native might:
Large streames of blood out of the truncked stock
Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riven rocke.

Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound,

And eke impatient of unwonted payne,
He lowdly brayd with beastly yelling sownd,
That all the fieldes rebellowed againe.

II

As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
Doe for the milky mothers want complaine,
And fill the fieldes with troublous bellowing:

The neighbor woods arownd with hollow murmur ring.

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