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50 She flying fast from heavens hated face,

And from the world that her discovered wide,
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,

From living eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurkt in rocks and caves long unespide.
But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire,
Did in that castle afterwards abide,

To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire,

Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare.

'CANTO IX.

His loves and lignage Arthur tells :
the knights knit friendly bands:
Sir Trevisan flies from Despayre,
whom Redcrosse knight withstands.

I O GOODLY golden chaine, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in lovely wize;
And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
In brave poursuit of chevalrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid envy to him, in need that stands,
But friendly each did others praise devize,
How to advaunce with favourable hands,

[bands.

As this good prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from

2 Who when their powres, empaird through labour long, With dew repast they had recured well,

And that weake captive wight now wexed strong;
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their adventures fell:
But ere they parted, Una faire besought

That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in thanklesse thought.

3 Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require

A thing without the compas of my wit:

For both the lignage and the certain sire,

From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit.

For all so soone as life did me admit

Into this world, and shewed heavens light,
From mothers pap I taken was unfit,

And streight deliver'd to a Faery knight,

To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.

4 Unto old Timon he me brought bylive;
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene
In warlike feates th' expertest man alive,
And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,
From whence the river Dee as silver cleene,
His tombling billowes roll with gentle rore;
There all my dayes he traind me up in vertuous lore.

5 Thither the great magicien Merlin came,
As was his use, ofttimes to visit me:
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And tutors nouriture to oversee.

Him oft and oft I askt in privity,

Of what loines and what lignage I did spring,
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
That I was sonne and heire unto a king,

As time in her just term the truth to light should bring.

6 Well worthy impe, said then the lady gent,
And pupill fit for such a tutors hand.
But what adventure, or what high intent,
Hath brought you hither into Faery land,
Aread, Prince Arthur, crowne of martiall band?
Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright

The course of heavenly cause, or understand
The secret meaning of th' eternall might,

[wight.

That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of living

7 For whether he through fatall deepe foresight

Me hither sent, for cause to me unghest,

Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest,

With forced fury following his behest,

Me hither brought by wayes yet never found;
You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest.

Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart on ground?

8 Deare dame (quoth he) you sleeping sparkes awake, Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow;

Ne ever will their fervent fury slake,

Till living moysture into smoke do flow,

And wasted life do lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow;

I will revele what ye so much desire:

Ah love, lay down thy bow, the whiles I may respire.

9 It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares,
When courage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first the coale of kindly heat appeares
To kindle love in every living brest;
But me had warnd old Timons wise behest,
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great unrest,
As miserable lovers used to rew,

Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe still wexeth new.

10 That idle name of love, and lovers life,
As losse of time, and vertues enimy,

I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife,
In middest of their mournfull tragedy,

Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:
Their god himselfe, griev'd at my libertie,
Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent;
But I them warded all with wary government.

II But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong,
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sound,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or unawares at disadvantage found:

Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground:
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boasts in beauties chaine not to be bound,
Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight,

And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most despight

12 Ensample make of him your haplesse joy,
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;

Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertie.
For on a day, prickt forth with jollitie

Of looser life, and heat of hardiment,

Raunging the forest wide on courser free,

The fields, the floods, the heavens, with one consent Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent.

13 For-wearied with my sports, I did alight

From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd:
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmet faire displayd:
Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall mayd

Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny day.

14 Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment

She to me made, and bad me love her deare;
For dearely sure her love was to me bent,
As when just time expired should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was never hart so ravisht with delight,

Ne living man like words did ever heare,
As she to me delivered all that night;

And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.

15 When I awoke, and found her place devoyd,
And nought but pressed gras, where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lov'd that face divine;
From that day forth I, cast in carefull mind
To seek her out with labour and long tyne,
And never vowd to rest till her I find:

Nine monethes I seck in vain, yet ni'll that vow unbind.

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