And after him she rode with so much speede,
As her flowe beast could make; but all in vaine:
For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,
That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine :
Yet she her weary limbes would never reft;
But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine,
Did fearch, fore grieved in her gentle brest,
He so ungently left her, whome she loved best.
IX.
But subtill Archimago, when his guests
He faw divided into double parts,
And Una wandring in woods and forrests,
(Th'end of his drift,) he praifd his divelish arts,
That had such might over true-meaning harts:
Yet refts not fo, but other meanes doth make,
How he may worke unto her further smarts:
For her he hated as the hiffing fnake,
And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.
X.
He then devisde himselfe how to disguise;
For by his mighty science he could take
many formes and shapes in feeming wife,
As ever Proteus to himselfe could make:
Sometime a fowle, fometime a fish in lake,
Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell;
That of himselfe he ofte for feare would quake,
And oft would flie away. o who can tell
The hidden powre of herbes, and might of magick spell?
But now seemde best the person to put on
Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest.
In mighty armes he was yclad anon,
And filver shield; upon his coward brest
A bloody croffe, and on his craven crest
A bounch of heares difcolourd diverfly.
Full iolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest;
And when he fate uppon his courfer free,
Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed him to be.
But he, the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare,
The true faint George, was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare:
Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.
At last him chaunft to meete upon
the way
A faithleffe Sarazin, all armde to point,
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay SANSFOY: full large of limbe and every ioint He was, and cared not for God or man a point. XIII.
Hee had a faire companion of his way,
A goodly lady clad in fcarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich affay;
And like a Perfian mitre on her hed
Shee wore, with crowns and owches garnished,
The which her lavish lovers to her gave:
Her wanton palfrey all was overfpred
With tinfell trappings, woven like a wave,
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave.
XIV.
With faire disport, and courting dalliaunce,
She intertainde her lover all the way:
But when she saw the knight his speare advaunce,
Shee foone left off her mirth and wanton play,
And bad her knight addresse him to the fray;
His foe was nigh at hand. he, prickte with pride,
And hope to winne his ladies hearte that day,
Forth spurred faft: adowne his courfers fide
The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride.
The knight of the redcroffe, when him he spide
Spurring fo hote with rage difpiteous,
Gan fairely couch his fpeare, and towards ride.
Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,
That daunted with their forces hideous
Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand;
And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous,
Aftonied with the ftroke of their owne hand,
Doe backe rebutte, and each to other yealdeth land.
As when two rams, ftird with ambitious pride,
Fight for the rule of the rich-fleeced flocke,
Their horned fronts fo fierce on either fide
Doe meete, that with the terror of the shocke
Aftonied both ftand fenceleffe as a blocke,
Forgetfull of the hanging victory.
So stood these twaine, unmoved as a rocke,
Both staring fierce, and holding idely
The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
XVII.
The Sarazin, fore daunted with the buffe,
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equall puiffaunce envies,
And through their iron fides with cruell spies
Does feeke to perce; repining courage yields
No foote to foe: the flashing fier flies,
As from a forge, out of their burning shields;
And streams of purple bloud new die the verdant fields.
Curfe on that croffe, quoth then the Sarazin,
That keeps thy body from the bitter fitt;
Dead long ygoe, I wote, thou haddeft bin,
Had not that charme from thee forwarned itt:
But yet I warne thee now affured fitt,
And hide thy head. therewith upon his crest
With rigor fo outrageous he fmitt,
That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing downe his shield from blame him fairly blest.
Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
Of native vertue gan eftfoones revive;
And at his haughty helmet making mark,
So hugely stroke, that it the fteele did rive,
And cleft his head. he tumbling downe alive,'
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
Greeting his grave: his grudging ghost did strive
With the fraile flesh; at laft it flitted is,
Whether the foules doe fly of men, that live amis.
The lady, when she saw her champion fall,
Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
Staid not to waile his woefull funerall;
But from him fled away with all her powre:
Who after her as haftily gan fcowre,
Bidding the dwarfe with him to bring away
The Sarazins fhield, figne of the conqueroure.
Her foone he overtooke, and bad to stay;
For prefent cause was none of dread her to dismay.
XXI.
Shee turning backe, with ruefull countenaunce,
Cride, Mercy, mercy, fir, vouchsafe to show
On filly dame, fubiect to hard mischaunce,
And to your mighty will. her humbleffe low
In fo rich weedes and feeming glorious show,
Did much emmove his ftout heroïcke heart,
And faid, Deare dame, your fuddein overthrow
Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tel, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.
XXII.
Melting in teares, then gan fhee 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 betraide me to your powre,
Was, (o what now availeth that I was!)
Borne the fole daughter of an emperour;
He that the wide weft under his rule has,
And high hath fet his throne where Tiberis doth
XXIII.
He, in the first flowre of my freshest age,
Betrothed me unto the onely haire
Of a moft mighty king, moft rich and fage;
Was never prince fo faithfull and fo faire,
Was never prince fo meeke and debonaire:
But ere my hoped day of fpoufall fhone,
My dearest lord fell from high honors faire
Into the hands of bys accurfed fone,
And cruelly was flaine; that fhall I ever mone.
In this fad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate,
Now miferable I Fideffa dwell,
Craving of you in pitty of my ftate,
To doe none ill, if pleafe ye not doe well.
He in great paffion all this while did dwell,
More bufying his quicke eies, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what fhee did tell;
And faid, Faire lady, hart of flint would rew
The undeferved woes and forrowes, which ye fhew.
XXVII.
Henceforth in fafe affuraunce may ye rest,
Having both found a new friend you to aid,
And loft an old foe, that did you moleft:
Better new friend then an old foe is faid.
With chaunge of chear the seeming-fimple maid
Let fall her eien, as fhamefast, to the earth,
And yeelding foft, in that he nought gain-faid.
So forth they rode, he feining feemely merth,
And thee coy lookes: fo dainty, they fay, maketh derth.
|