Forsaken Truth long seeks her love,
And makes the lion mild;
Mars blind Devotions mart, and falls
In hand of lecher vilde.
NOUGHT is there under heav'ns wide hollowness,*
That moves more dear compassion of mind,
Then beauty brought t'unworthy wretchedness
Through envy's snares, or fortunes freaks unkind.
I, whether lately through her brightness blind,
Or through allegiance, and fast feälty,
Which I do owe unto all womankind,
Feel my heart pierc'd with so great agony,
When such I see, that all for pity I could die.
And now it is empassionéd so deep,
For fairest Una's sake, of whom I sing,
That my frail eyes these lines with tears do steep, To think how she through guileful handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though fair as ever living wight was fair,
Though nor in word nor deed ill meriting,
Is from her knight divorcéd in despair,
And her due loves deriv'd to that vile witch's share.
Yet she, most faithful lady all this while
Forsaken, woful, solitary maid,
Far from all people's preace,* as in exile,
In wilderness and wasteful deserts stray'd,
To seek her knight; who, subtily betrayd
Through that late vision which th' enchanter wrought,
Had her abandon'd; she of nought afraid,
Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought,
Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought.
One day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all mens sight;
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside: Her angels face,
As the great eye of heaven, shined bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.
It fortuned, out of the thickest wood
A ramping lion rushed suddenly,
Hunting full greedy after savage blood;
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have at once devour'd her tender corse;
But to the prey when as he drew more nigh,
His bloody rage assuaged with remorse,
And, with the sight amaz'd, forgat his furious force.
Instead thereof, he kist her weary feet,
And lickt her lily hands, with fawning tongue,
As he her wronged innocence did weet.
O how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her heart gan melt in great compassion;
And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.
"The lion, lord of everie beast in field,"
Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,
And mighty proud to humble weak does yield,
Forgetful of the hungry rage, which late
Him prick'd, in pity of my sad estate :—
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate
Her, that him lov'd, and ever most ador'd
As the god of my life? why hath he me abhorr'd ?"
Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly echoed from the neighor wood;
And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pity calmd, down fell his angry mood.
At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,
Arose the virgin, born of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got again,
To seek her strayed champion if she might attain.
The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard;
Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;
And, when she wak'd he waited diligent,
With humble service to her will prepar'd:
From her fair eyes he took commandëment,
And ever by her looks conceived her intent.
Long she thus travelled through deserts wide,
By which she thought her wandring knight should pass,
Yet never shew of living wight espied;
Till that at length she found the trodden grass,
In which the track of peoples footing was,
Under the steep foot of a mountain hoar;
The same she follows, till at last she has
A damsel spied slow-footing her before,
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.
To whom approaching, she to her gan call,
To weet, if dwelling-place were nigh at hand:
But the rude wench her answer'd nought at all;
She could not hear, nor speak, nor understand:
Till, seeing by her side the lion stand,
With sudden fear her pitcher down she threw,
And fled away for never in that land
Face of fair lady she before did view,
And that dread lion's look her cast in deadly hue.
Full fast she fled, nor ever look'd behind,
As if her life upon the wager lay;
And home she came, whereas her mother blind
Sate in eternal night; nought could she say;
But, sudden catching hold, did her dismay
With quaking hands, and other signs of fear;
Who full of ghastly fright and cold affray,
Gan shut the door. By this arrived there
Dame Una, weary dame, and entrance did requere:
Which when none yielded, her unruly page
With his rude claws the wicket open rent,
And let her in; where, of his cruel rage
Nigh dead with fear, and faint astonishment,
She found them both in darksome corner pent
Where that old woman day and night did pray
Upon her beads, devoutly penitent;
Nine hundred Pater nosters every day,
And thrice nine hundred Aves, she was wont to say.*
Those who love to trace the allegory in the Faëry Queen will find nothing more exquisite than this of Truth, in all her native lovelinessmaking "a sunshine in a shady place," and accompanied by that noble strength or courage which renders her irresistible, breaking into the dismal abode of Superstition, who in vain strives to bar the entrance against her.
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