VI.

Returning to his bed in torment great,
And bitter anguifh of his guilty fight,

He could not reft, but did his ftout heart eat,
And wafte his inward gall with deep despight,
Yrkfome of life and too long lingring night.
At laft fair Hefperus in highest sky

Had spent his lamp, and brought forth dawning light,
Then up he rofe, and clad him haftily;

The Dwarf him brought his fteed: fo both away do fly.
VII.

Now when the rofy-fingerd morning fair,
Weary of aged Tithons faffron bed,

Had fpread her purple robe through dewy air,
And the high hills Titan difcovered,

The royal Virgin fhook off drowsy-hed,

And rifing forth out of her bafer bowre, Lookt for her Knight, who far away was fled, And for her Dwarf, that wont to wait each howre, Then 'gan fhe wail and weep, to fee that woeful stowre. VIII.

And after him fhe rode with so much speed

As her flow beaft could make; but all in vain:
For him fo far had borne his light-foot teed,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce difdain,
That him to follow was but fruitless pain;
Yet the her weary limbs would never reft,
But every hill and dale, each wood and plain.
Did fearch, fore grieved in her gentle breft,
He fo ungently left her, whom the loved beft.
IX.

But fubtile Archimage, when his guests
He faw divided into double parts,
And Una wandring in woods and forrefts,
Th'end of his drift, he prais'd his divelish arts,
That had fuch might over true meaning hearts;
Yet refts not fo, but other means doth make,
How he may work unto her further fmarts:
For her he hated as the hiffing snake,

And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.

X

He then devis'd himself how to disguise;
For by his mighty fcience he could take
As many forms and shapes in feeming wife,
As ever Proteus to himfelf could make:
Sometime a fowl, fometime a fish in lake,
Now like a fox, now like a dragon fell,
That of himself he oft for fear would quake,
And oft would fly away. O! who can tell
The hidden powre of Herbs, and might of magick spell?
XI.

But now feem'd beft, the perfon to put on
Of that good Knight, his late beguiled guest:
In mighty arms he was yclad anon,

And filver fhield: upon his coward brest
A bloody cross; and on his craven crest
A bunch of hairs discolour'd diverfly;
Full jolly Knight he feem'd, and well addreft,
And when he fate upon his courfer free,

Saint George, himself ye would have deemed him to be,
XII.

But he, the Knight, whofe femblunt he did bear,
The true Saint George, was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and jealous fear;
Will was his guide, and grief led him aftray.
At laft him chanct to meet upon the way
A faithlefs Sarazin, all arm'd to point,
In whofe great fhield was writ with letters gay
Sans-Foy: full large of limb and every joint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.
XIII.

He had a fair companion of his way,

A goodly Lady, clad in fcarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearl of rich affay,
And like a Perfian mitre on her head

She wore, with crowns and owches garnished,
The which her lavish lovers to her gave;
Her wanton palfrey all was overspred

With tinfell trappings, woven like a wave,

Whose bridle rung with golden bells, and boffes brave.

XIV.

With fair difport and courting dalliance

She entertain'd her lover all the way;

But when she saw the Knight his fpear advance,
She foon left off her mirth and wanton play,
And bade her Knight address him to the fray:
His foe was nigh at hand. He, prickt with pride
And hope to win his Ladies heart that day,
Forth fpurred faft: adown his courfers fide
The red blood, trickling, ftain'd the way as he did ride.
XV.

The Knight of the Red-Crofs when him he spide
Spurring fo hot with rage difpiteous,

'Gan fairly couch his fpear, and towards ride:
Soon meet they both, both fell and furious;
That daunted with their forces hideous,
Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,
And eke themselves too rudely rigorous,
Aftonied with the ftroke of their own hand,
Do back rebut, and each to other yieldeth land.
XVI.

As when two rams, ftir'd with ambitious pride,
Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced-flock,
Their horned fronts fo fierce on either fide
Do meet, that with the terror of the fhock
Aftonied, both stand fenfeless as a block,
Forgetful of the hanging victory :

So ftood these twaine, unmoved as a rock,
Both staring fierce, and holding idlely
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
XVII.

The Sarazin fore daunted with the buff,
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies
Who well it wards, and quiteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equal puiffance envies,

And through their iron fides with cruel fpies
Do seek to pierce repining courage yields
No foot to foe. The flafhing fier flies
As from a forge out of their burning fhields,

And streams of purple blood new die the verdant fields.

XVIII.

Curfe on that crofs (quoth then the Sarazin)
That keeps thy body from the bitter fit;
Dead long ygo I wote thou haddest bin,
Had not that charm from thee forwarned it:
But yet I warn thee now affured fit,
And hide thy head. Therewith upon his crest
With rigour fo outragious he smit,

That a large share it hew'd out of the rest,

[bleft.

And glauncing down his fhield, from blame him fairly

XIX.

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the fleeping spark
Of native vertue 'gan eftfoons revive,

And at his haughty helmet making mark,
So hugely ftrook, that it the fteel did rive,
And cleft his head. He, tumbling down alive,
With bloody mouth his mother earth did kifs,
Greeting his grave: his grudging ghoft did strive
With the frail flesh; at laft it flitted is,

Whither the fouls do fly of men, that live amiss.
XX.

The Lady when the faw her champion fall,
Like the old ruins of a broken towre,
Staid not to wail his woeful funeral,
But from him fled away with all her powre;
Who after her as haftily 'gan fcowre,
Bidding the Dwarf with him to bring away
The Sarazins fhield, fign of the conquerour.
Her foon he overtook, and bade to stay;
For present cause was none of dread, her to difinay.
XXI.

She turning back with rueful countenance,
Cri'd mercy, mercy, Sir, vouchsafe to show
On filly Dame, subject to hard mischance,
And to your mighty will. Her humblefs low,
In fo rich weeds and feeming glorious show,
Did much emmove his ftout heroick heart,
And faid; dear Dame, your suddain overthrow
Much rueth me: but now put fear apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that took you

C 3

your

party

XXII.

་

Melting in tears, then 'gan fhe thus lament;
The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heavens lift to lowre,
And fortune falfe betraid me to thy powre,
Was (O, what now availeth that I was!)...
Born the fole daughter of an Emperour,
He that the wide weft under his rule has,
And high hath fet his throne, where Tiberis doth pafs.
XXIII.

He in the first flowre of my freshest age,
Betrothed me unto the only heir

Of a most mighty King, moft rich and fage;
Was never Prince fo faithful and fo fair;
Was never Prince fo meek and debonair:
But e're my hoped day of fpoufal fhone,
My dearest Lord fell from high honours ftair,
Into the hands of his accurfed fone,

And cruelly was flain: that I fhall ever mone.
XXIV.

His bleffed body, spoil'd of lively breath,
Was afterward, I know not how convey'd
And from me hid: of whofe moft innocent death
When tidings came to me unhappy maid,
O, how great forrow my fad foul affaid;
Then forth I went, his woeful corfe to find;
And many years throughout the world I ftraid,
A virgin widow: whofe deep wounded mind
With love, long time did languifh as the ftriken hind.
XXV.

At laft, it chanced this proud Sarazin

To meet me wandring: who perforce me led With him away, but yet could never win The fort that Ladies hold in foveraine dread. There lies he now with foul difhonour dead, Who whilft he liv'd, was called proud Sans-foy, The eldest of three brethren, all three bred Of one bad fire, whofe youngest is Sans-joy: * And 'twixt them both was born the bloody bold Sans-loy.