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XXXII

Still' as he ftood, fair Phadria, that beheld
That deadly danger, foon atween them ran;
And at their feet her self most humbly feld, 1
Crying with pitious voice, and count'nance wan;}
Ah weal-away! most noble Lords, how can
Your cruel eyes endure fo pitious fight,

To fhed your lives on ground? woe worth the man,
That firft did teach the curfed fteel to bite
In his own flesh, and make way to the living fprite.
XXXIII.

If ever love of Lady did empierce

Your iron breafts, or pity could find place, Withhold your bloody hands from battle fierce, And fith for me ye fight, to me this grace Both yield, to stay your deadly ftrife a space. They ftayd a while and forth fhe 'gan proceed Moft wretched woman, and of wicked race, That am the author of this heinous deed, And caufe of death between two doughty Knightsdobreed. XXXIV.

But if for me ye fight, or me will ferve,

Not this rude kind of battle, nor thefe arms

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Are meet, the which do men in bale to fterve, "2
And doleful forrow heap with deadly harms::
Such cruel game my fcarmoges difarms:
Another war, and other weapons I

Do love, where Love does give his fweet alarms,
Without bloodshed, and where the enemy
Does yield unto his foe a pleasant victory.
XXXV.

Debateful ftrife, and cruel enmity

The famous name of Knighthood fouly fhend
But lovely peace, and gentle amity,
And in amours the paffing hours to fpend,
The mighty martial hands do moft commend;
Of love they ever greater glory bore,

Than of their arms: Mars is Cupidos friend,
And is for Venus loves renowned more

Than all his wars and fpoils, the which he did of yore.

XXXVI.

Therewith she sweetly fmil'd. They though full bent
To prove extremities of bloody fight,

Yet at her speech their rages 'gan relent,
And calm the fea of their tempestuous spight;
Such powre have pleafing words: fuch is the might
Of courteous clemency in gentle heart.

Now after all was ceaft, the Fairy Knight
Befought that Damzel fuffer him depart,
And yield him ready paffage to that other part.
XXXVII.

She no lefs glad, than he defirous was
Of his departure thence; for of her joy
And vain delight fhe faw he light did pafs,
A foe of folly and immodeft toy,
Still folemn fad, or ftill difdainful coy,
Delighting all in arms and cruel war,
That her fweet peace and pleasures did annoy,
Troubled with terrour and unquiet jar,

That she well pleased was thence to amove him far.
XXXVIII.

Tho him fhe brought abord, and her swift boat
Forthwith directed to that further ftrand,
The which on the dull waves did lightly float,
And foon arrived on the fhallow fand,
Where gladfome Guyon fallied forth to land,
And to that Damzel thanks gave for reward.
Upon that shore he fpied Atin ftand,

There by his mafter left, when late he far'd
In Phædrias flit bark over that perlous fhard,
XXXIX.

Well could he him remember, fith of late
He with Pyrochles fharp debatement made;
Streight 'gan he him revile, and bitter rate,
As fhepherds cur, that in dark evenings fhade
Hath tracted forth fome falvage beaftës treade;
Vile mifcreant (faid he) whither doft thou fly
The fhame and death, which will thee foon invade?
What coward hand fhall do thee next to dye,
That art thus fouly fled from famous enemy?

XL.

With that, he ftifly shook his steel-head dart:
But fober Guyon, hearing him fo rail,

4

Though fomewhat moved in his mighty heart,
Yet with strong reafon maiftred paffion frail,
And paffed fairly forth. He turning tail,
Back to the ftrond retyr'd, and there still staid,
Awaiting paffage, which him late did fail;
The whiles Cymockles with that wanton maid
The hafty heat of his avow'd revenge delayd.
XLI.

Whiles there the varlet ftood, he faw from far
An armed Knight, that towards him faft ran:
He ran on foot, as if in luckless war

His forlorn steed from him the victour won;
He seemed breathlefs, heartlefs, faint, and wan,
And all his armour fprinkled was with blood,
And foyld with dirty gore, that no man can
Difcern the hew thereof. He never ftood,
But bent his hafty courfe towards the idle flood.
XLII.

The varlet faw, when to the flood he came,
How without ftop or stay he fiercely lept,
And deep himself beducked in the fame.
That in the lake his lofty creft was fleept,
Ne of his fafety feemed care he kept;
But with his raging arms he rudely flasht
The waves about, and all his armour swept,
That all the blood and filth away was washt,
Yer ftill he beat the water, and the billows dafht.
XLIII.

Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote be;

For much he wondred at that uncouth fight; Whom should he, but his own dear Lord, there fee? His own dear Lord Pyrochles, in fad plight, Ready to drown himself for fell defpight. Harrow now out, and weal-away, he cryde, What dismal day hath lent this curfed light, To fee my Lord fo deadly damnifide? Pyrachles Pyrockles, what is thee betyde?

XLIV.

I burn, I burn, I burn, then loud he cryde:
O how I burn with implacable fire!

Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming fide, !
Nor fea of liquor cold, nor lake of mire,
Nothing but death can do me to refpire.
Ah be it (faid he) from Pyrochles far
After purfewing death once to require,

Or think, that ought thofe puiffant hands may mar:
Death is for wretches born under unhappy star,
XLV.

Perdie, then is it fit for me (faid he)

That am, I ween, moft wretched man alive:
Burning in flames, yet no flames can I fee,
And dying daily, daily yet revivé:
O Atin, help to me laft death to give.
The varlet at his plaint was griev'd fo fore,
That his deep wounded heart in two did rive,
And his own health remembring now no more,
Did follow that enfample which he blam'd afore.
XLVI.

Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd,

(So love the dread of danger doth defpife)
And of him catching hold, him strongly stayd
From drowning. But more happy he, than wife,
Of that feas nature did him not avife.

The waves thereof fo flow and fluggish were,
Engroft with mud, which did them foul agrife,
That every weighty thing they did upbear,
Ne ought mote ever fink down to the bottom there.
XLVII.

Whiles thus they ftruggled in that idle wave,
And ftrove in vain, the one himself to drown,
The other both from drowning for to fave;
Lo to that shore one in an ancient gown,
Whofe hoary locks great gravity did crown,
Holding in hand a goodly arming fword,
By fortune came, led with the troublous fown:
Where drenched deep he found in that dull ford
The careful fervant, ftriving with his raging Lord.

XLVIII.

Him Atin fpying, knew right well of yore,
And loudly calld, Help help, Q Archimage,
To fave my Lord, in wretched plight forlore;
Help with thy hand, or with thy counfel fage:
Weak hands, but counfel is moft ftrong in age.
Him when the old man faw, he wondred fore,
To fee Pyrockles there fo rudely rage:

Yet fithens help, he faw, he needed more
Than pity, he in hafte approached to the fhore.
XLIX.

And call'd: Pyrochles, what is this, I fee?
What hellifh fury hath at earft thee hent?
Furious ever I thee knew to be,

Yet never in this ftrange aftonifhment.

These flames, thefe flames (he cryde) do me torment.
What flames (quoth he) when I thee present fee,
In danger rather to be drent, than brent?

Harrow, the flames, which me confume (faid he)
Ne can be quencht, within my fecret bowels be.

L:

That curfed man, that cruel fiend of hell,
Furor, O Furor, hath me thus bedight:
His deadly wounds within my liver fwell,
And his hot fire burns in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through his infernal brond of fpight,
Sith late with him I battle vain would boaft;
That now I ween Joves dreaded thunder-light
Does fcorch not half fo fore, nor damned ghost
In flaming Phlegeton does not fo felly roast.

LI.

Which whenas Archimago heard his grief

He knew right well, and him attonce difarmd:
Then fearcht his fecret wounds, and made a prief ́
Of every place, that was with bruifing harmd,
Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd.
Which done, he balms and herbs thereto apply'd,
And evermore with mighty fpells them charmd,
That in fhort space he has them qualifide,

And him reftor'd to health, that would have algates dyde.

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