9 Then. 10 The
Paynim.
11 The
Whereat renfierst1 with wrath and sharp regret,
He struck so hugely with his borrow'd blade,
That it empierc'd the Pagan's burgonet; 2
And, cleaving the hard steel, did deep invade
Into his head, and cruel passage made [ground,
Quite through his brain: he, tumbling down on
Breath'd out his ghost, which to th' infernal shade
Fast flying, there eternal torment found
For all the sins wherewith his lewd life did abound.
Which when his german3 saw, the stony fear
Ran to his heart, and all his sense dismay'd;
Ne4 thenceforth life ne courage did appear:
But, as a man whom hellish fiends have fray'd;"
Long trembling still he stood; at last thus said;
Traitor, what hast thou done! How ever may
Thy cursed hand so cruelly have sway'd
Against that knight! Harrow and well away!6
After so wicked deed why liv'st thou longer day!'
With that all desperate, as loathing light,
And with revenge desiring soon to die,
Assembling all his force and utmost might,
With his own sword he fierce at him did fly,
And struck, and foin'd,7 and lash'd outrageously,
Withouten reason or regard. Well knew
The Prince, with patience and suff'rance sly,
So hasty heat soon cooléd to subdue:
[renew. Tho, when this 10 breathless wox, that 11 battle gan
Prince. As when a windy tempest bloweth high,
That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre,
The clouds, as things afraid, before him fly;
But, all so soon as his outrageous power
Is laid, they fiercely then begin to shower;
And, as in scorn of his spent stormy spite,
Now all at once their malice forth do pour:
So did Prince Arthur bear himself in fight,
And suffer'd rash Pyrochles waste his idle might.
At last whenas the Sarazin perceiv'd
How that strange sword refus'd to serve his need,
But, when he struck most strong, the dint deceiv'd,
He flung it from him; and, devoid of dreed,1
Upon him lightly leaping without heed,
Twixt his two mighty arms engrasped fast,
Thinking to overthrow and down him tread:
But him in strength and skill the Prince surpast,
And through his nimble sleight did under him down
Naught booted it the Paynim then to strive;
For as a bittur2 in the eagle's claw,
That may not hope by flight to 'scape alive,
Still waits for death with dread and trembling awe;
So he, now subject to the victor's law,
Did not once move, nor upward cast his eye,
For vile disdain and rancour, which did gnaw
His heart in twain with sad melancholy;
As one that loathéd life, and yet despis'd to die.
But, full of princely bounty and great mind,
The conqueror naught caréd him to slay;
But, casting wrongs and all revenge behind,
More glory thought to give life than decay,
And said; 'Paynim, this is thy dismal day;
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreance,1
And my true liegeman yield thyself for aye,
Life will I grant thee for thy valiance,
Memory. And all thy wrongs will wipe out of my sovenance."
Fool,' said the Pagan, 'I thy gift defy;
But use thy fortune, as it doth befall;
And say, that I not overcome do die,
But in despite of life for death do call.'
Wroth was the Prince, and sorry yet withal,
That he so wilfully refuséd grace;
Yet, sith his fate so cruelly did fall,
His shining helmet he gan soon unlace,
And left his headless body bleeding all the place.
By this, Sir Guyon from his trance awak'd,
Life having masteréd her senseless foe;
And looking up, whenas his shield he lack'd,
And sword saw not, he waxéd wondrous woe:
But when the palmer, whom he long ago
Had lost, he by him spied, right glad he grew,
And said; 'Dear Sir, whom wand'ring to and fro
I long have lack'd, I joy thy face to view!
Firm is thy faith, whom danger never from me drew.
'But read5 what wicked hand hath robbéd me
Of my good sword and shield?' The palmer, glad
With so fresh hue uprising him to see,
Him answeréd; Fair son, be no whit sad
For want of weapons; they shall soon be had.'
So gan he to discourse the whole debate,
Which that strange Knight for him sustained had,
And those two Sarazins confounded late,
Whose carcases on ground were horribly prostráte.
Which when he heard, and saw the tokens true,
His heart with great affection was embay'd,1
And to the Prince, with bowing reverence due,
As to the patron of his life, thus said;
'My lord, my liege, by whose most gracious aid
I live this day, and see my foes subdu'd,
What may suffice to be for meed repaid
Of so great graces as ye have me shew'd,
But to be ever bound'-
To whom the Infant2 thus; Fair Sir, what need Prince,
Good turns be counted, as a servile bond,
To bind their doers to receive their meed?
Are not all knights by oath bound to withstond
Oppressors' power by arms and puissant hond?
Suffice, that I have done my due3 in place.'
So goodly purpose they together fond
Of kindness and of courteous aggrace; 5
The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled apace.
The House of Temperance, in which
Doth sober Alma dwell,
Besieg'd of many foes, whom strang-
er knights to flight compel.
Or all God's works, which do this world adorn,
There is no one more fair and excellent
Than is man's body, both for power and form,
Whiles it is kept in sober government;
But none than it more foul and indecent,
Distemper'd through misrule and passions base;
It grows a monster, and incontinent1
Doth lose his dignity and native grace:
Behold, who list, both one and other in this place.
After the Paynim brethren conquer'd were, The Briton Prince recov'ring his stoll'n sword, And Guyon his lost shield, they both yfere2 Forth passed on their way in fair accord, Till him the prince with gentle court did bord;3 'Sir Knight, might I of you this court'sy read,* To weet why on your shield, so goodly scor'd, Bear ye the picture of that Lady's head? [dead' •Likeness. Full lively is the semblaunt, though the substance
7 What would you think. • Living
original.
'Fair Sir,' said he, 'if in that picture dead
Such life ye read, and virtue in vain show;
What might ye ween,7 if the true lively-head
Of that most glorious visage ye did view!
But if the beauty of her mind ye knew,
That is, her bounty, and imperial power,
Thousand times fairer than her mortal hue,
O! how great wonder would your thoughts devour,
And infinite desire into your spirit pour!
'She is the mighty Queen of Faëry,
Whose fair retrait9 I in my shield do bear;
She is the flower of grace and chastity,
Throughout the world renowned far and near,
My Life, my Liege, my Sovereign, my Dear,
Whose glory shineth as the morning star,
And with her light the earth illumines clear;
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