The royal virgin, which beheld from far,
In penfive plight, and fad perplexity,
The whole atchievement of this doubtful war,
Came running faft to greet his victory,
With fober gladness, and mild modefty,
And with fweet joyous chear him thus befpake;
Fair branch of noblefs, flowre of chevalry,
That with your worth the world amazed make,
How fhall I quite the pains ye fuffer for my fake?!
XXVII.
And you fresh bud of vertue fpringing faft,
Whom these fad eyes faw nigh unto deaths door,
What hath poor virgin, for fuch peril paft,
Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore
My fimple felf, and fervice evermore;
And he that high does fit, and all things fee
With equal eyes, their merits to restore,
Behold what ye this day have done for me,
And what I cannot quite, requite with ufury.
XXVIII.
But fith the heavens, and your fair handling,
Have made you mafter of the field this day,
Your fortune master eke with governing,
And well begun, end all fo well, I pray,
Ne let that wicked woman fcape away :
For fhe it is that did my Lord bethrall,
My deareft Lord, and deep in dungeon lay,
Where he his better days hath wasted all.
O hear, how pitious he to you for aid does call.
XXIX.
Forthwith he gave in charge unto his Squire,
That fcarlet whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himself with greedy great defire
Into the caftle entred forcibly;
Where living creature none he did efpy.
Then 'gan he loudly through the house to call:
But no man car'd to anfwer to his cry.
There reign'd a folemn filence over all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was feen in bowre or hall.
At laft, with creeping crooked pace forth came
An old old man, with beard as white as fnow,
That on a staff his feeble fteps did frame,
And guide his weary gait both to and fro,
For his eye fight him failed long ygo:
And on his arm a bounch of keys he bore,
The which unufed, ruft did overgrow:
Those were the keys of every inner door,
But he could not them ufe, but kept them ftill in ftore.
XXXI.
But very uncouth fight was to behold
How he did fafhion his untoward pace:
For as he forward mov'd his footing old,
So backward ftill was turn'd his wrinkled face;
Unlike to men, who ever as they trace,
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the ancient keeper of that place,
And fofter-father of the Giant dead;
His name Ignaro did his nature right aread.
XXXII.
His reverend hairs and holy gravity
The Knight much honour'd, as befeemed well,
And gently askt, where all the people be,
Which in that stately building wont to dwell,
Who answerd him full foft, he could not tell.
Again he askt, where that fame Knight was laid,
Whom great Orgoglio with his puiffance fell
Had made his caitive thrall; again he said,
He could not tell: ne ever other answer made.
XXXIII.
Then asked he, which way he in might pass:
He could not tell, again he answered.
Thereat the courteous Knight difpleased was,
And faid, Old fire, it feems thou haft not read
How ill it fits with that fame filver head
In vain to mock, or mockt in vain to be:
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrayed
With natures pen, in ages grave degree,
Aread in graver wife, what I demand of thee.
His answer likewife was, he could not tell.
Whose senseless speech, and doted ignorance
Whenas the noble Prince had marked well,
He gheft his nature by his countenance,
And calm'd his wrath with goodly temperance;
Then to him ftepping, from his arm did reach
Thofe keys, and made himself free enterance.
Each door he opened without any breach;
There was no bar to ftop, nor foe him to empeach.
XXXV.
There all within full rich array'd he found,
With royal arras, and refplendent gold,
And did with ftore of every thing abound,
That greatest Princes prefence might behold:
But all the floor (too filthy to be told)
With blood of guiltless babes, and innocents true,
Which there were flain, as fheep out of the fold,
Defiled was, that dreadful was to view,
And facred afhes over it was ftrowed new.
And there befide of marble ftone was built
An altar, carv'd with cunning imagery,
On which true chriftians blood was often fpilt,
And holy martyrs often doen to dye,
With cruel malice and strong tyranny:
Whose bleffed fprites from underneath the stone
To God for vengeance cry'd continually,
And with great grief were often heard to grone, That hardeft heart would bleed, to hear their pitious mone. XXXVII.
Through every room he fought, and every bowre,
But no where could he find that woeful thrall:
At last he came unto an iron door,
That faft was lockt, but key found not all
Emongst that bounch, to open it withall;
But in the fame a little grate was pight,
Through which he fent his voice, and loud did call
With all his powre, to weet if living wight
Were housed there within, whom he enlargen might.
Therewith, an hollow, dreary, murmuring voice
These pitious plaints and dolours did refound
O who is that, which brings me happy choice
Of death, that here lye dying every ftound,
Yet live perforce in baleful darkness bound?
For now three moons have changed thrice their hew,
And have been thrice hid underneath the ground,
Since I the heavens chearful face did view:
O welcome thou, that doft of death bring tydings true.
XXXIX.
Which when that champion heard, with piercing point
Of pity dear his heart was thrilled fore,
And trembling horror ran through every joint,
For ruth of gentle Knight fo foul foriore:
Which shaking off, he rent that iron door,
With furious force, and indignation fell;
Where entred in, his foot could find no floor,
But all a deep defcent, as dark as hell,
That breathed ever forth a filthy baneful smell.
XL.
But neither darknefs foul nor filthy bands,
Nor noyous fmell his purpofe could with-hold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer bands)
But that with conftant zeal, and courage bold,
After long pains and labours manifold,
He found the means that prifoner up to rear;
Whose feeble thighs unable to uphold
His pined corfe, him fcarce to light could bear.
A rueful fpectacle of death and ghaftly drear.
XLI.
His fad dull eyes deep funk in hollow pits,
Could not endure th' unwonted fun to view;
His bare thin cheeks for want of better bits,
And empty fides deceived of their due,
Could make a ftony heart his hap to rue;
His rawbone arms, whofe mighty brawned bowres
Were wont to rive fteel plates, and helmets hew,
Were clean confum'd, and all his vital powres
Decay'd, and all his flesh fhrunk up like withered flowres.
Whom when his Lady faw, to him the ran
With hafty joy to fee him made her glad,
And fad to view his vifage pale and wan,
Who earst in flowres of fresheft youth was clad.
Tho when her Well of tears fhe wafted had,
She faid, Ah deareft Lord, what evil ftar
On you
hath frown'd, and pour'd his influence bad,
That of yourself ye thus berabbed are,
And this miffeeming hew your manly looks doth mare.
But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe,
Whose presence I have lackt too long a day;
And fie on fortune mine avowed foe,
Whose wrathful wreaks themselves do now alay,
And for thefe wrongs fhall treble penance pay
Of treble good: good grows of evils prief.
The cheerless man, whom forrow did difmay,
Had no delight to treaten of his grief;
His long endured famine needed more relief.
XLIV.
Fair Lady, then faid that victorious Knight,
The things that grievous were to do, or bear,
Them to renew, I wot, breeds na delight;
Beft mufick breeds diflike in loathing ear:
But th❜only good that grows of paffed fear,
Is to be wife, and ware of like agen.
This days enfample hath this leffon dear
Deep written in my heart with iron pen,
"That blifs may not abide in ftate of mortal men.
Ilenceforth fir Knight, take to you wonted ftrength,
And mafter these mishaps with patient might;
Lo where your foe lyes ftretcht in monftrous length :
And lo that wicked woman in your fight,
The root of all your care, and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her live or dye.
To do her dye (quoth Una) were despight,
And fhame t'avenge fo weak an enemy;
But fpoil her of her fcarlet robe, and let her fly.
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