2 Produced without the due qualities of a real woman.
So lively, and so like in all men's sight,
That weaker sense it could have ravisht quite:
The maker self, for all his wondrous wit,
Was nigh beguiléd with so goodly sight.
Her all in white he clad, and over it
Cast a black stole,1 most like to seem for Una fit.
Now when that idle dream was to him brought,
Unto that Elfin Knight he bade him fly,
Where he slept soundly void of evil thought,
And with false shows abuse his fantasy;
In sort as he him schooléd privily.
And that new creature, born without her due,2
Full of the maker's guile, with usage sly
He taught to imitate that Lady true,
Whose semblance she did carry under feignéd hue.
Thus, well instructed, to their work they haste;
And, coming where the Knight in slumber lay,
The one upon his hardy 3 head him plac'd,
And made him dream of loves and lustful play;
That nigh his manly heart did melt away,
Bathéd in wanton bliss and wicked joy.
Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,
And to him plain'd, how that false winged boy
Her chaste heart had subdu'd to learn dame Plea-
And she herself, of beauty sov'reign queen,
Fair Venus, seem'd unto his bed to bring
Her, whom he, waking, evermore did ween 4
To be the chastest flower that aye did spring
On earthly branch, the daughter of a king,
Now a loose leman to vile service bound:
And eke the Graces seeméd all to sing
Hymen, Iö Hymen, dancing all around;
Whilst freshest Flora her with ivy garland crown'd.
In this great passion of unwonted lust,
Or wonted fear of doing aught amiss,
He starteth up, as seeming to mistrust
Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:
Lo, there before his face his Lady is,
Under black stole hiding her baited hook;
And, as half blushing offer'd him to kiss,
With gentle blandishment and lovely look,
Most like that Virgin true, which for her Knight
him took.
All clean dismay'd to see so uncouth1 sight, And half enragéd at her shameless guise, He thought have slain her in his fierce despite;2 But, hasty heat temp'ring with suff'rance wise, He stay'd his hand; and gan himself advise To prove his sense, and tempt her feigned truth. Wringing her hands, in women's piteous wise, Tho can she weep, to stir up gentle ruth 4 Both for her noble blood, and for her tender youth. Pity.
And said, 'Ah sir, my liege lord, and
Shall I accuse the hidden cruel fate,
And mighty causes wrought in heaven above,
Or the blind god, that doth me thus amate,5
For hopéd love, to win me certain hate?
Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
Die is my due; yet rue my wretched state,
You, whom my hard avenging destiny
Hath made judge of my life or death indifferently:
Your own dear sake forc'd me at first to leave
My father's kingdom'-There she stopt with tears;
Her swollen heart her speech seem'd to bereave;
And then again begun; My weaker years,
Captiv'd to fortune and frail worldly fears,
Fly to your faith for succour and sure aid:
Let me not die in languor and long tears.'
"Why, dame,' quoth he, what hath ye thus dismay'd?
1 Affrights. What frayes1 ye, that were wont to comfort me
'Love of yourself,' she said, ' and dear constraint,
Lets me not sleep, but waste the weary night
In secret anguish and unpitied plaint,
Whiles you in careless sleep are drownéd quite.'
Her doubtful words made that redoubted Knight
Suspect her truth; yet since no' untruth he knew,
Her fawning love with foul disdainful spite
He would not shend;2 but said, 'Dear dame, I
rue,3
That for my sake unknown such grief unto you grew:
'Assure yourself, it fell not all to ground;
For all so dear, as life is to my heart,
I deem your love, and hold me to you bound:
Ne1 let vain fears procure your needless smart,
Where cause is none; but to your rest depart.'
Not all content, yet seem'd she to appease
Her mournful plaints, beguiléd of her art,
And fed with words, that could not choose but
please:
So, sliding softly forth, she turn'd as to her ease.
Long after lay he musing at her mood,
Much griev'd to think that gentle Dame so light,
For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
At last, dull weariness of former fight
Having yrockt asleep his irksome sprite,
That troublous dream gan freshly toss his brain
With bow'rs, and beds, and ladies' dear delight:
But, when he saw his labour all was vain,
With that misformed sprite he back return'd again.
The guileful great enchanter parts
The Redcross Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead fair Falsehood steps,
And works him woeful ruth.
By this the Northern Wagoner1 had set
His sevenfold team behind the stedfast star2
That was in ocean waves yet never wet,
But firm is fixt, and sendeth light from far
To all that in the wide deep wand'ring are;
And cheerful chanticleer with his note shrill,
Had warned once, that Phoebus' fiery car
In haste was climbing up the eastern hill,
Full envious that night so long his room did fill:
When those accursed messengers of hell,
That feigning Dream, and that fair-forged Sprite,
Came to their wicked master, and gan tell
Their bootless pains and ill-succeeding night:
Who, all in rage to see his skilful might
Deluded so, gan threaten hellish pain
And sad Prosérpine's wrath, them to affright.
But, when he saw his threat'ning was but vain, He cast about, and searcht his baleful books again.
Eftsoones1 he took that miscreated Fair,
And that false other sprite, on whom he spread
A seeming body of the subtile air,
Like a young squire, in loves and lustihed
His wanton days that ever loosely led,
Without regard of arms and dreaded fight:
Those two he took, and in a secret bed,
Cover'd with darkness and misdeeming 2 night,
Them both together laid, to joy in vain delight.
Forthwith he runs with feignéd-faithful haste
Unto his guest, who, after troublous sights
And dreams, gan now to take more sound repast;
Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful frights,
As one aghast with fiends or damnéd sprites,
And to him calls; Rise, rise, unhappy swain,
That here wax old in sleep,3 whiles wicked wights
Have knit themselves in Venus' shameful chain:
Come, see where your false Lady doth her honour
stain.'
All in a maze he suddenly up start
With sword in hand, and with the old man went;
Who soon him brought into a secret part,
Where that false couple were full closely ment1
In wanton lust and lewd embracement:
Which when he saw, he burnt with jealous fire;
The eye of reason was with rage yblent;5
And would have slain them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restrained of that aged sire.
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