By this he had sweet life recour'd again;
And groaning inly deep, at laft his eyes,
His watry eyes, drizling like dewy rain,
He up 'gan lift toward the azure skies,
From whence defcend all hopeless remedies:
There with he figh'd, and turning him afide,
The goodly maid (full of divinities,
And gifts of heavenly grace) he by him fpide,
Her bow and gilden quiver lying him befide.
XXXV.
Mercy dear Lord, faid he, what grace is this,
That thou haft fhewed to me finful wight,
To fend thine Angel from her bowre of blifs,
To comfort me in my diftreffed plight?
Angel, or Goddefs do I call thee right?
What service may I do unto thee meet,
That haft from darkness me return'd to light,
And with thy heavenly falves and med'cines fweet,
Haft dreft my finful wounds? I kifs thy bleffed feet.
XXXVI.
Thereat she blushing faid. Ah gentle Squire,
Nor Goddess I, nor Angel, but the maid,
And daughter of a woody nymph, defire
No fervice, but thy fafety and aid;
Which if thou gain I fhall be well apaid.
We mortal wights, whofe lives and fortunes be
To common accidents ftill open laid,
Are bound with common bond of fraïltee,
To fuccour wretched wights, whom we captived fee.
By this her Damfels, which the former chace
Had undertaken, after her arriv'd,
As did Belphabe, in the bloody place,
And thereby deem'd the beaft had been depriv'd
Of life, whom late their Ladies arrow riv'd:
Forthy the bloody tract they follow faft,
And every one to run the fwifteft ftriv'd:
But two of them the reft far overpast,
And where their Lady was, arrived at the laft,
Where when they faw that goodly boy with blood
Defouled and their Lady drefs his wound,
They wondred much, and shortly understood,
How him in deadly cafe their Lady found,
And refkewed out of the heavy stound.
Eftfoons his warlike courfer, which was strayd
Far in the woods, whiles that he lay in fwound,
She made those Damfels fearch: which being ftayd,
They did him fet thereon, and forth with them conveyd.
XXXIX.
Into that forest far they thence him led,
Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade,
With mountains round about environed,
And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,
And like a stately theatre it made,
Spreading itself into a spacious plain,
And in the midst a little river plaid
Emongst the pumy ftones, which feem'd to plain With gentle murmur, that his courfe they did reftrain. XL.
Befide the fame, a dainty place there lay,
Planted with myrtle trees and laurels green,
In which the birds fung many a lovely lay
Of Gods high praife, and of their loves fweet teen,
As it an earthly paradife had been:
In whofe inclofed fhadow there was pight
A fair pavilion, fcarcely to be feen,
The which was all within most richly dight,
That greatest Princes living it mote well delight.
XLI.
Thither they brought that wounded Squire, and laid
In eafie couch his feeble limbs to reft.
He refted him awhile, and then the maid
His ready wound with better falves new dreft;
Daily fhe dreffed him, and did the best
His grievous hurt to guerifh, that she might,
That shortly fhe his dolour hath redrest,
And his foul fore reduced to fair plight:
It fhe reduced, but himself deftroyed quight.
O foolish phyfick, and unfruitful pain,
That heals up one, and makes another wound:
She his hurt thigh to him recur'd again
But hurt his heart, the which before was found,
Through an unweary dart, which did rebound
From her fair eyes and gracious countenance.
What boots it him from death to be unbound,
To be captived in endless durance
Of forrow and defpair without allegiance?
XLIII.
Still as his wound did gather and grow whole,
So ftill his heart wox fore, and health decaid:
Madness to fave a part, and lofe the whole.
Still whenas he beheld the heavenly maid,
Whiles daily plaifters to his wound the laid,
So ftill his malady the more increaft,
The whiles her matchlefs beauty him difmaid.
Ah God! what other could he do at least,
But love fo fair a Lady, that his life releaft?
XLIV.
Long while he strove in his courageous breast,
With reafon due the paffion to fubdue,
And love for to diflodge out of his neft:
Still when her excellencies he did view,
Her foveraine bounty, and celestial hue,
The fame to love he strongly was constrain'd:
But when his mean eftate he did review,
He from fuch hardy boldness was restrain'd,
And of his lucklefs lot and cruel love thus plain'd;
XLV.
Unthankful wretch, faid he, is this the meed,
With which her foveraine mercy thou doft quight?
Thy life the faved by her gracious deed,
But thou dost ween with villainous despight
To blot her honour, and her heavenly light.
Dye rather, dye, than fo difloyally
Deem of her high defert, or feem fo light:
Fair death it is, to fhun more fhame, to die;
Dye rather, dye, than ever love difloyally.
But if to love difloyalty it be,
Shall I then hate her, that from deathës dore
Me brought? ah! far be fuch reproch from me.
What can I lefs do, than her love therefore?
Sith I her due reward cannot restore :
Dye rather, dye, and dying do her ferve,
Dying her ferve, and living her adore;
Thy life she gave, thy life fhe doth deserve:
Dye rather, dye, than ever from her fervice fwerve.
XLVII.
But foolish boy, what boots thy service base
To her, to whom the heavens do ferve and few?
Thou a mean Squire, of meek and lowly place,
She heavenly born, and of celestial hew.
How then? of all, love taketh equal view:
And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take
The love and fervice of the basest crew?
If fhe will not, dye meekly for her fake;
Dye rather, dye, than ever fo fair love forfake.
XLVIII.
Thus warred he long time against his will,
Till that (through weakness) he was forst at last
To yield himself unto the mighty ill:
Which as a victor proud, 'gan ranfack fast
His inward parts, and all his entrails waste,
That neither blood in face, nor life in heart
It left, but both did quite dry up, and blast;
As piercing levin, which the inner part
Of every thing confumes, and calcineth by art.
XLIX.
Which feeing, fair Belphabe 'gan to fear,
Left that his wounds were inly well not heal'd,
Or that the wicked steel empoifned were:
Little the weend, that love he clofe conceald;
Yet ftill he wafted, as the fnow congeal'd,
When the bright fun his beams thereon doth beat;
Yet never he his heart to her reveal'd,
But rather chofe to dye for forrow great,
Than with difhonourable terms her to intreat.
She (gracious Lady) yet no pains did spare
To do him eafe, or do him remedy:
Many restoratives, of vertues rare,
And coftly cordial she did apply,
To mitigate his stubborn malady:
But that sweet cordial, which can restore
A love-fick heart, fhe did to him envy;
To him and all th'unworthy world forlore
She did envy that foveraine falve, in fecret store.
LI.
That dainty rofe, the daughter of her morn,
More dear than life fhe tendered, whofe flowre
The girlond of her honour did adorn :
Ne fuffred the the middays fcorching powre,
Ne the sharp northern wind thereon to fhowre,
But lapped up her filken leaves most chair,
Whenfo the froward sky began to lowre:
But foon as calmed was the chryftal air,
She did it fair diffpred, and let it flourish fair.
Eternal God, in his almighty powre,
To make enfample of his heavenly grace,
In paradife whylome did plant this flowre;
Whence he it fetcht out of her native place,
And did in stock of earthly flesh enrace,
That mortal men her glory fhould admire:
In gentle Ladies breast, and bounteous race
Of woman-kind it faireft flowre doth spire,
And beareth fruit of honour and all chafte defire.
LIII.
Fair imps of beauty, whofe bright fhining beams
Adorn the world with like to heavenly light,
And to your wills both royalties and realms.
Subdue, through conquest of your wondrous might,
With his fair flowre your goodly girlonds dight,
Of chastity and vertue virginal,
That fhall embellish more your beauty bright,
And crown your heads with heavenly coronal,
Such as the angels wear before Gods tribunal,
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