For on a day, prickt forth with jollitee
Of looser life and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heavens, with one
consent,
Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthie
[ intent. For onely worthie you through prowes priefe, Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine Yf living man mote worthie be to be her liefe.'
And am I now in safetie sure,' (quoth he) 'From him that would have forced me to dye? And is the point of death now turnd fro mee, That I may tell this haplesse history?' [nye. Fear nought,' (quoth he) no daunger now is Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,' (Said he) the which with this unlucky eye late beheld, and, had not greater grace Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.
But not so happy as mote happy bee:
He lov'd, as was his lot, a Lady gent,
That him againe lov'd in the least degree;
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And joyd to see her lover languish and lament:
From whom retourning sad and comfortlesse,
We met that villen, (God from him me blesse!)
As on the way together we did fare,
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyle-
A man of hell that calls himselfe Despayre:
Who first us greets, and after fayre areedes
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Of tydinges straunge, and of adventures rare:
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly
deedes.
With which sad instrument of hasty death,
That wofull lover, loathing lenger light,
A wyde way made to let forth living breath:
But I, more fearefull or more lucky wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fledd fast away, halfe dead with dying
feare;
Sir knight,
Ne yet assur'd of life by you,
Whose like infirmity like chaunce may beare;
But God you never let his charmed speaches
heare!'
'How may a man,' (said he) 'with idle speach Be wonne to spoyle the Castle of his health?' 'I wote, (quoth he) 'whom tryall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth.
'I lately chaunst (Would I had never His subtile tong like dropping honny mealt'h
With a fayre knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe advaunst
In all affayres, and was both bold and free,
Into the heart, and searcheth every vaine;
That, ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft, and weaknes doth remaine.
O! never, Sir, desire to try his guilefull traine.'
'Certes,' (sayd he) hence shall I never rest,
Till I that treachours art have heard and tryde:
And you, Sir knight, whose name mote I re-
Of grace do me unto his cabin guyde.' [quest,
'I, that hight Trevisan,' (quoth he) will ryde
Against my liking backe to doe you grace:
But nor for gold nor glee will I abyde
By you, when ye arrive in that same place;
For lever had I die then see his deadly face.'
In which a rusty knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
Which piteous spectacle, approving trew
The wofull tale that Trevisan had told,
Whenas the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold
Him to avenge before his blood were cold,
And to the villein sayd; Thou damned wight,
The authour of this fact we here behold,
What justice can but judge against thee right,
Ere long they come where that same wicked With thine owne blood to price his blood, here
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,
For underneath a craggy cliff ypight,
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave:
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle,
And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind:
His griesie lockes, long growen and unbound,
Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
And hid his face, through which his hollow
And further from it daily wanderest: Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound; What if some little payne the passage have, His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and That makes frayle flesh to feare the bitter pine,
Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never Is not short payne well borne, that bringes
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly
please.'
His garment, nought but many ragged clouts,
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay upon the gras
A dreary corse, whose life away did pas,
All wallowd in his own yet luke-warme blood.
That from his wound yet welled fresh, alas!
The knight was much enmoved with his speach, [ment, That as a swords poynt through his hart did
Through strife, and blood-shed, and avenge-
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent; And in his conscience made a secrete breach,
For life must life, and blood must blood, repay.
Is not enough thy evill life forespent?
For he that once hath missed the right way,
The further he doth goe, the further he doth
stray.
'Then doe no further goe, no further stray,
But here ly downe, and to thy rest betake,
Th' ill to prevent, that life ensewen may;
For what hath life that may it loved make,
And gives not rather cause it to forsake?
Feare,sicknesse, age, losse, labour,sorrow,strife.
Payne, hunger, cold that makes the hart to
quake,
Well knowing trew all that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembraunce did reverse
The ugly vew of his deformed crimes;
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes;
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted often-
times.
In which amazement when the Miscreant Perceived him to waver, weake and fraile,[ daunt, Whiles trembling horror did his conscience And hellish anguish did his soule assaile; To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile, Hee shewd him, painted in a table plaine, The damned ghosts that doe in torments waile, All which, and thousands mo, do make a loath- And thousand feends that doe them endlesse some life.
And ever fickle fortune rageth rife;
"Thou, wretched man, of death hast greatest
need,
If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy state;
For never knight, that dared warlike deed,
More luckless dissaventures did amate:
Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shutt up for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy
date,
Yet death then would the like mishaps forestall,
Into the which hereafter thou maist happen
tall.
[remaine. With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall
The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid,
That nought but death before his eies he saw,
And ever burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law.
Then gan the villein him to overcraw, [tire,
And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose what death he would de-
sire;
[Gods ire.
For death was dew to him that had provokt
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