Edmund Spenser

THE FERIE QUEENE

THE

SECOND

BOOKE OF THE

FAERIE QVEENE.

Contayning

The Legend of Sir Gvyon,

or

of Temperaunce.

R Ight well I wote most mighty Soueraine,

That all this famous antique history,

Of some th'aboundance of an idle braine

Will iudged be, and painted forgery,

Rather then matter of iust memory,

Sith none, that breatheth liuing aire, does know,

Where is that happy land of Faery,

Which I so much do vaunt, yet no where show,

But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.

But let that man with better sence aduize,

That of the world least part to vs is red:

And dayly how through hardy enterprize,

Many great Regions are discouered,

Which to late age were neuer mentioned.

Who euer heard of th'Indian Peru?

Or who in venturous vessell measured

The Amazon huge riuer now found trew?

Or fruitfullest Virginia who did euer vew?

Yet all these were, when no man did them know;

Yet haue from wisest ages hidden beene:

And later times things more vnknowne shall show.

Why then should witlesse man so much misweene

That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?

What if within the Moones faire shining spheare?

What if in euery other starre vnseene

Of other worldes he happily should heare?

He wonder would much more: yet such to some appeare.

Of Faerie lond yet if he more inquire,

By certaine signes here set in sundry place

He may it find; ne let him then admire,

But yield his sence to be too blunt and bace,

That no'te without an hound fine footing trace.

And thou, O fairest Princesse vnder sky,

In this faire mirrhour maist behold thy face,

And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery,

And in this antique Image thy great auncestry.

The which O pardon me thus to enfold

In couert vele, and wrap in shadowes light,

That feeble eyes your glory may behold,

Which else could not endure those beames bright,

But would be dazled with exceeding light.

O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare

The braue aduentures of this Faery knight

The good Sir Guyon gratiously to heare,

In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly doth appeare.

Canto I

Guyon by Archimage abusd,

The Redcrosse knight awaytes,

Findes Mordant and Amauia slaine

With pleasures poisoned baytes.

T Hat cunning Architect of cancred guile,

Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands,

For falsed letters and suborned wile,

Soone as the Redcrosse knight he vnderstands,

To beene departed out of Eden lands,

To serue againe his soueraine Elfin Queene,

His artes he moues, and out of caytiues hands

Himselfe he frees by secret meanes vnseene;

His shackles emptie left, him selfe escaped cleene.

And forth he fares full of malicious mind,

To worken mischiefe and auenging woe,

Where euer he that godly knight may find,

His onely hart sore, and his onely foe,

Sith Vna now he algates must forgoe,

Whom his victorious hands did earst restore

To natiue crowne and kingdome late ygoe:

Where she enioyes sure peace for euermore,

As weather-beaten ship arriu'd on happie shore.

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight

And deadly food he makes: him to offend

By forged treason, or by open fight

He seekes, of all his drift the aymed end:

Thereto his subtile engins he does bend

His practick wit, and his faire filed tong,

With thousand other sleights: for well he kend,

His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong;

For hardly could be hurt, who was already stong.

Still as he went, he craftie stales did lay

With cunning traines him to entrap vnwares.

And priuie spials plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;

To ketch him at a vantage in his snares.

But now so wise and warie was the knight

By triall of his former harmes and cares,

That he descride, and shonned still his slight:

The fish that once was caught, new bait will hardly bite.

Nath'lesse th'Enchaunter would not spare his paine,

In hope to win occasion to his will;

Which when he long awaited had in vaine,

He chaungd his minde from one to other ill:

For to all good he enimy was still.

Vpon the way him fortuned to meet,

Faire marching vnderneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,

That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and vpright,

His countenaunce demure and temperate,

But yet so sterne and terrible in sight,

That cheard his friends, and did his foes amate:

He was an Elfin borne of noble state,

And mickle worship in his natiue land;

Well could he tourney and in lists debate,

And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huons hand,

When with king Oberon he came to Faerie land.

Him als accompanyd vpon the way

A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,

Of ripest yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,

That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,

Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:

And if by lookes one may the mind aread,

He seemd to be a sage and sober sire,

And euer with slow pace the knight did lead,

Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.

Such whenas Archimago them did view,

He weened well to worke some vncouth wile,

Eftsoones vntwisting his deceiptfull clew,

He gan to weaue a web of wicked guile,

And with faire countenance and flattring stile,

To them approching, thus the knight bespake:

Faire sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike spoile.

And great atchieu'ments great your selfe to make,

Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,

And bad tell on the tenor of his plaint;

Who feigning then in euery limbe to quake,

Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faint

With piteous mone his percing speach gan paint;

Deare Lady how shall I declare thy cace,

Whom late I left in langourous constraint?

Would God thy selfe now present were in place,

To tell this ruefull tale; thy sight could win thee grace.

Or rather would, O would it so had chaunst,

That you, most noble Sir, had present beene,

When that lewd ribauld with vile lust aduaunst

Layd first his filthy hands on virgin cleene,

To spoile her daintie corse so faire and sheene,

As on the earth, great mother of vs all,

With liuing eye more faire was neuer seene,

Of chastitie and honour virginall:

Witnesse ye heauens, whom she in vaine to helpe did call.

How may it be, (said then the knight halfe wroth,)

That knight should knighthood euer so haue shent?

None but that saw (quoth he) would weene for troth,

How shamefully that Maid he did torment.

Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,

And drew her on the ground, and his sharpe sword,

Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,

And threatned death with many a bloudie word;

Toung hates to tell the rest, that eye to see abhord.

Therewith amoued from his sober mood,

And liues he yet (said he) that wrought this act,

And doen the heauens afford him vitall food?

He liues, (quoth he) and boasteth of the fact,

Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.

Where may that treachour then (said he) be found,

Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?

That shall I shew (said he) as sure, as hound

The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.

He staid not lenger talke, but with fierce ire

And zealous hast away is quickly gone

To seeke that knight, where him that craftie Squire

Supposd to be. They do arriue anone,

Where sate a gentle Lady all alone,

With garments rent, and haire discheueled,

Wringing her hands, and making piteous mone;

Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

The knight approching nigh thus to her said,

Faire Ladie, through foule sorrow ill bedight,

Great pittie is to see you thus dismaid,

And marre the blossome of your beautie bright:

For thy appease your griefe and heauie plight,

And tell the cause of your conceiued paine.

For if he liue, that hath you doen despight,

He shall you doe due recompence againe,

Or else his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.

Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise,

She wilfully her sorrow did augment,

And offred hope of comfort did despise:

Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,

And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment,

Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,

But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,

Either for grieuous shame, or for great teene,

As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene.

Till her that Squire bespake, Madame my liefe,

For Gods deare loue be not so wilfull bent,

But doe vouchsafe now to receiue reliefe,

The which good fortune doth to you present.

For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment,

When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,

And the weake mind with double woe torment?

When she her Squire heard speake, she gan appease

Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said, Ah gentle trustie Squire,

What comfort can I wofull wretch conceaue,

Or why should euer I henceforth desire,

To see faire heauens face, and life not leaue,

Sith that false Traytour did my honour reaue?

False traytour certes (said the Faerie knight)

I read the man, that euer would deceaue

A gentle Ladie, or her wrong through might:

Death were too little paine for such a foule despight.

But now, faire Ladie, comfort to you make,

And read, who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight.

That short reuenge the man may ouertake,

Where so he be, and soone vpon him light.

Certes (saide she) I wote not how he hight,

But vnder him a gray steede did he wield,

Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;

Vpright he rode, and in his siluer shield

He bore a bloudie Crosse, that quartred all the field.

Now by my head (said Guyon) much I muse,

How that same knight should do so foule amis,

Or euer gentle Damzell so abuse:

For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and true of word ywis:

I present was, and can it witnesse well,

When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris

Th'aduenture of the Errant damozell,

In which he hath great glorie wonne, as I heare tell.

Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,

And fairly quite him of th'imputed blame,

Else be ye sure he dearely shall abyde,

Or make you good amendment for the same:

All wrongs haue mends, but no amends of shame.

Now therefore Ladie, rise out of your paine,

And see the saluing of your blotted name.

Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;

For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such, as she did faine,

Ne yet her person such, as it was seene,

But vnder simple shew and semblant plaine

Lurckt false Duessa secretly vnseene,

As a chast Virgin, that wronged beene:

So had false Archimago her disguisd,

To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;

And eke himselfe had craftily deuisd

To be her Squire, and do her seruice well aguisd.

Her late forlorne and naked he had found,

Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,

Lurking in rockes and caues farre vnder ground,

And with greene mosse cou'ring her nakednesse,

To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse;

Sith her Prince Arthur of proud ornaments

And borrow'd beautie spoyld. Her nathelesse

Th'enchaunter finding fit for his intents,

Did thus reuest, and deckt with due habiliments.

For all he did, was to deceiue good knights,

And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame,

To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,

And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.

And now exceeding griefe him ouercame,

To see the Redcrosse thus aduaunced hye;

Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,

Against his praise to stirre vp enmitye

Of such, as vertues like mote vnto him allye.

So now he Guyon guides an vncouth way

Through woods & mountaines, till they came at last

Into a pleasant dale, that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads ouerplast,

The valley did with coole shade ouercast,

Through midst thereof a little riuer rold,

By which there sate a knight with helme vnlast,

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,

After his trauell long, and labours manifold.

Loe yonder he, cryde Archimage alowd,

That wrought the shamefull fact, which I did shew;

And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,

To flie the vengeance for his outrage dew;

But vaine: for ye shall dearely do him rew,

So God ye speed, and send you good successe;

Which we farre off will here abide to vew.

So they him left, inflam'd with wrathfulnesse,

That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse.

Who seeing him from farre so fierce to pricke,

His warlike armes about him gan embrace,

And in the rest his readie speare did sticke;

Tho when as still he saw him towards pace,

He gan rencounter him in equall race.

They bene ymet, both readie to affrap,

When suddenly that warriour gan abace

His threatned speare, as if some new mishap

Had him betidde, or hidden daunger did entrap.

And cryde, Mercie Sir knight, and mercie Lord,

For mine offence and heedlesse hardiment,

That had almost committed crime abhord,

And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,

Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,

The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,

Which on your shield is set for ornament:

But his fierce foe his steede could stay vneath,

Who prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.

But when he heard him speake, streight way he knew

His error, and himselfe inclyning sayd;

Ah deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth you,

But me behoueth rather to vpbrayd,

Whose hastie hand so farre from reason strayd,

That almost it did haynous violence

On that faire image of that heauenly Mayd,

That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:

Your court'sie takes on you anothers due offence.

So bene they both attone, and doen vpreare

Their beuers bright, each other for to greete;

Goodly comportance each to other beare,

And entertaine themselues with court'sies meet,

Then said the Redcrosse knight, Now mote I weet,

Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce,

And fell intent ye did at earst me meet;

For sith I know your goodly gouernaunce,

Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some vncouth chaunce.

Certes (said he) well mote I shame to tell

The fond encheason, that me hither led.

A false infamous faitour late befell

Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,

And playnd of grieuous outrage, which he red

A knight had wrought against a Ladie gent;

Which to auenge, he to this place me led,

Where you he made the marke of his intent,

And now is fled; foule shame him follow, where he went.

So can he turne his earnest vnto game,

Through goodly handling and wise temperance.

By this his aged guide in presence came;

Who soone as on that knight his eye did glance,

Eft soones of him had perfect cognizance,

Sith him in Faerie court he late auizd;

And said, Faire sonne, God giue you happie chance,

And that deare Crosse vpon your shield deuizd,

Wherewith aboue all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd.

Ioy may you haue, and euerlasting fame,

Of late most hard atchieu'ment by you donne,

For which enrolled is your glorious name

In heauenly Registers aboue the Sunne,

Where you a Saint with Saints your seat haue wonne:

But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke,

Must now anew begin, like race to runne;

God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,

And to the wished hauen bring thy weary barke.

Palmer, (him answered the Redcrosse knight)

His be the praise, that this atchieu'ment wrought,

Who made my hand the organ of his might;

More then goodwill to me attribute nought:

For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensewes,

Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,

That home ye may report thrise happie newes;

For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes.

So courteous conge both did giue and take,

With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.

Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make,

With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still.

Still he him guided ouer dale and hill,

And with his steedie staffe did point his way:

His race with reason, and with words his will,

From foule intemperance he oft did stay,

And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray.

In this faire wize they traueild long yfere,

Through many hard assayes, which did betide;

Of which he honour still away did beare,

And spred his glorie through all countries wide.

At last as chaunst them by a forest side

To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,

They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride

With percing shriekes, and many a dolefull lay;

Which to attend, a while their forward steps they stay.

But if that carelesse heauens (quoth she) despise

The doome of iust reuenge, and take delight

To see sad pageants of mens miseries,

As bound by them to liue in liues despight,

Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.

Come then, come soone, come sweetest death to mee,

And take away this long lent loathed light:

Sharpe by thy wounds, but sweet the medicines bee,

That long captiued soules from wearie thraldome free.

But thou, sweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate

Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall,

Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing state,

Long maist thou liue, and better thriue withall,

Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall:

Liue thou, and to thy mother dead attest,

That cleare she dide from blemish criminall;

Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest

Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to rest.

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw,

That through the wood reecchoed againe,

And after gaue a grone so deepe and low,

That seemd her tender heart was rent in twaine,

Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;

As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell steele

Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine,

Whiles the sad pang approching she does feele,

Brayes out her latest breath, and vp her eyes doth seele.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict

From his tall steed, he rusht into the thicke,

And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraict

Of death and labour lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,

In whose white alabaster brest did sticke

A cruell knife, that made a griesly wound,

From which forth gusht a streme of gorebloud thick,

That all her goodly garments staind around,

And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassie ground.

Pittifull spectacle of deadly smart,

Beside a bubbling fountaine low she lay,

Which she increased with her bleeding hart,

And the cleane waues with purple gore did ray;

Als in her lap a louely babe did play

His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;

For in her streaming blood he did embay

His litle hands, and tender ioynts embrew;

Pitifull spectacle, as euer eye did view.

Besides them both, vpon the soiled gras

The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,

Whose armour all with bloud besprinckled was;

His ruddie lips did smile, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yet being ded,

Seemd to haue beene a goodly personage,

Now in his freshest flowre of lustie hed,

Fit to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,

But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

Whom when the good Sir Guyon did behold,

His hart gan wexe as starke, as marble stone,

And his fresh bloud did frieze with fearefull cold,

That all his senses seemd bereft attone:

At last his mightie ghost gan deepe to grone,

As Lyon grudging in his great disdaine,

Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone:

Till ruth and fraile affection did constraine,

His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward paine.

Out of her gored wound the cruell steele

He lightly snatcht, and did the floudgate stop

With his faire garment: then gan softly feele

Her feeble pulse, to proue if any drop

Of liuing bloud yet in her veynes did hop;

Which when he felt to moue, he hoped faire

To call backe life to her forsaken shop;

So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,

That at the last she gan to breath out liuing aire.

Which he perceiuing greatly gan reioice,

And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart

Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweet voice;

Ay me, deare Lady, which the image art

Of ruefull pitie, and impatient smart,

What direfull chance, armd with reuenging fate,

Or cursed hand hath plaid this cruell part,

Thus fowle to hasten your vntimely date;

Speake, O deare Lady speake: help neuer comes too late.

Therewith her dim eie-lids she vp gan reare,

On which the drery death did sit, as sad

As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare;

But when as him all in bright armour clad

Before her standing she espied had,

As one out of a deadly dreame affright,

She weakely started, yet she nothing drad:

Streight downe againe her selfe in great despight

She groueling threw to ground, as hating life and light.

The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine

Vplifted light, and softly did vphold:

Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunke againe,

Till he his armes about her sides gan fold,

And to her said; Yet if the stony cold

Haue not all seized on your frozen hart,

Let one word fall that may your griefe vnfold,

And tell the secret of your mortall smart;

He oft finds present helpe, who does his griefe impart.

Then casting vp a deadly looke, full low,

Shee sight from bottome of her wounded brest,

And after, many bitter throbs did throw

With lips full pale and foltring tongue opprest,

These words she breathed forth from riuen chest;

Leaue, ah leaue off, what euer wight thou bee,

To let a wearie wretch from her dew rest,

And trouble dying soules tranquilitee.

Take not away now got, which none would giue to me.

Ah farre be it (said he) Deare dame fro mee,

To hinder soule from her desired rest,

Or hold sad life in long captiuitee:

For all I seeke, is but to haue redrest

The bitter pangs, that doth your heart infest.

Tell then, O Lady tell, what fatall priefe

Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest?

That I may cast to compasse your reliefe,

Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe.

With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye,

As heauen accusing guiltie of her death,

And with dry drops congealed in her eye,

In these sad words she spent her vtmost breath:

Heare then, O man, the sorrowes that vneath

My tongue can tell, so farre all sense they pas:

Loe this dead corpse, that lies here vnderneath,

The gentlest knight, that euer on greene gras

Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir Mortdant was.

Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now)

My Lord my loue; my deare Lord, my deare loue,

So long as heauens iust with equall brow

Vouchsafed to behold vs from aboue,

One day when him high courage did emmoue,

As wont ye knights to seeke aduentures wilde,

He pricked forth, his puissant force to proue,

Me then he left enwombed of this child,

This lucklesse child, whom thus ye see with bloud defild.

Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse)

To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne,

Acrasia a false enchaunteresse,

That many errant knights hath foule fordonne:

Within a wandring Island, that doth ronne

And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is:

Faire Sir, if euer there ye trauell, shonne

The cursed land where many wend amis,

And know it by the name; it hight the Bowre of blis.

Her blisse is all in pleasure and delight,

Wherewith she makes her louers drunken mad,

And then with words & weedes of wondrous might,

On them she workes her will to vses bad:

My lifest Lord she thus beguiled had;

For he was flesh: (all flesh doth frailtie breed.)

Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad,

Weake wretch I wrapt my selfe in Palmers weed,

And cast to seeke him forth through daunger and great dreed.

Now had faire Cynthia by euen tournes

Full measured three quarters of her yeare,

And thrise three times had fild her crooked hornes,

Whenas my wombe her burdein would forbeare,

And bad me call Lucina to me neare.

Lucina came: a manchild forth I brought:

The woods, the Nymphes, my bowres, my midwiues weare,

Hard helpe at need. So deare thee babe I bought,

Yt nought too deare I deemd, while so my dear I sought.

Him so I sought, and so at last I found

Where him that witch had thralled to her will,

In chaines of lust and lewd desires ybound,

And so transformed from his former skill,

That me he knew not, neither his owne ille;

Till through wise handling and faire gouernance,

I him recured to a better will,

Purged from drugs of foule intemperance:

Then meanes I gan deuise for his deliuerance.

Which when the vile Enchaunteresse perceiu'd,

How that my Lord from her I would repriue,

With cup thus charmd, him parting she deceiu'd;

Sad verse, giue death to him that death does giue,

And losse of loue, to her that loues to liue,

So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke:

So parted we and on our iourney driue,

Till comming to this well, he stoupt to drincke:

The charme fulfild, dead suddenly he downe did sincke.

Which when I wretch,---Not one word more she sayd

But breaking off, the end for want of breath,

And slyding soft, as downe to sleepe her layd,

And ended all her woe in quiet death.

That seeing good Sir Guyon, could vneath

From teares abstaine, for griefe his hart did grate,

And from so heauie sight his head did wreath,

Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate,

Which plunged had faire Ladie in so wretched state.

Then turning to his Palmer said, Old syre

Behold the image of mortalitie,

And feeble nature cloth'd with fleshly tyre,

When raging passion with fierce tyrannie

Robs reason of her due regalitie

And makes it seruant to her basest part:

The strong it weakens with infirmitie,

And with bold furie armes the weakest hart;

The strong through pleasure soonest falles, the weake through smart.

But temperance (said he) with golden squire

Betwixt them both can measure out a meane,

Neither to melt in pleasures whot desire,

Nor fry in hartlesse griefe and dolefull teene.

Thrise happie man, who fares them both atweene:

But sith this wretched woman ouercome

Of anguish, rather then of crime hath beene,

Reserue her cause to her eternall doome,

And in the meane vouchsafe her honorable toombe.

Palmer (quoth he) death is an equall doome

To good and bad, the common Inne of rest;

But after death the tryall is to come,

When best shall be to them, that liued best:

But both alike, when death hath both supprest,

Religious reuerence doth buriall teene,

Which who so wants, wants so much of his rest;

For all so great shame after death I weene,

As selfe to dyen bad, vnburied bad to beene.

So both agree their bodies to engraue;

The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,

And with sad Cypresse seemely it embraue,

Then couering with a clod their closed eye,

They lay therein those corses tenderly,

And bid them sleepe in euerlasting peace.

But ere they did their vtmost obsequy,

Sir Guyon more affection to increace,

Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should aye releace.

The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew,

With which he cut a locke of all their heare,

Which medling with their bloud and earth, he threw

Into the graue, and gan deuoutly sweare;

Such and such euill God on Guyon reare,

And worse and worse young Orphane be thy paine,

If I or thou dew vengeance doe forbeare,

Till guiltie bloud her guerdon doe obtaine:

So shedding many teares, they closd the earth againe.

Canto II

Babes bloudie hands may not be clensd,

the face of golden Meane.

Her sisters two Extremities:

striue her to banish cleane.

T Hus when Sir Guyon with his faithfull guide

Had with due rites and dolorous lament

The end of their sad Tragedie vptyde,

The little babe vp in his armes he hent;

Who with sweet pleasance and bold blandishment

Gan smyle on them, that rather ought to weepe,

As carelesse of his woe, or innocent

Of that was doen, that ruth emperced deepe

In that knights heart, and wordes with bitter teares did steepe.

Ah lucklesse babe, borne vnder cruell starre,

And in dead parents balefull ashes bred,

Full litle weenest thou, what sorrowes are

Left thee for portion of thy liuelihed,

Poore Orphane in the wide world scattered,

As budding braunch rent from the natiue tree,

And throwen forth, till it be withered:

Such is the state of men: thus enter wee

Into this life with woe, and end with miseree.

Then soft himselfe inclyning on his knee

Downe to that well, did in the water weene

(So loue does loath disdainfull nicitee)

His guiltie hands from bloudie gore to cleene,

He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they beene

For all his washing cleaner. Still he stroue,

Yet still the litle hands were bloudie seene;

The which him into great amaz'ment droue,

And into diuerse doubt his wauering wonder cloue.

He wist not whether blot of foule offence

Might not be purgd with water nor with bath;

Or that high God, in lieu of innocence,

Imprinted had that token of his wrath,

To shew how sore bloudguiltinesse he hat'th;

Or that the charme and venim, which they druncke,

Their bloud with secret filth infected hath,

Being diffused through the senselesse truncke,

That through the great contagion direfull deadly stunck.

Whom thus at gaze, the Palmer gan to bord

With goodly reason, and thus faire bespake;

Ye bene right hard amated, gratious Lord,

And of your ignorance great maruell make,

Whiles cause not well conceiued ye mistake.

But know, that secret vertues are infusd

In euery fountaine, and in euery lake,

Which who hath skill them rightly to haue chusd,

To proofe of passing wonders hath full often vsd.

Of those some were so from their sourse indewd

By great Dame Nature, from whose fruitfull pap

Their welheads spring, and are with moisture dewd;

Which feedes each liuing plant with liquid sap,

And filles with flowres faire Floraes painted lap:

But other some by gift of later grace,

Or by good prayers, or by other hap,

Had vertue pourd into their waters bace,

And thenceforth were renowmd, & sought from place to place.

Such is this well, wrought by occasion straunge,

Which to her Nymph befell. Vpon a day,

As she the woods with bow and shafts did raunge,

The hartlesse Hind and Robucke to dismay,

Dan Faunus chaunst to meet her by the way,

And kindling fire at her faire burning eye,

Inflamed was to follow beauties chace,

And chaced her, that fast from him did fly;

As Hind from her, so she fled from her enimy.

At last when fayling breath began to faint,

And saw no meanes to scape, of shame affrayd,

She set her downe to weepe for sore constraint,

And to Diana calling lowd for ayde,

Her deare besought, to let her dye a mayd.

The goddesse heard, and suddeine where she sate,

Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd

With stony feare of that rude rustick mate,

Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins state.

Lo now she is that stone, from whose two heads,

As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,

Yet cold through feare, and old conceiued dreads;

And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,

Shapt like a maid, that such ye may her know;

And yet her vertues in her water byde:

For it is chast and pure, as purest snow,

Ne lets her waues with any filth be dyde,

But euer like her selfe vnstained hath beene tryde.

From thence it comes, that this babes bloudy hand

May not be clensd with water of this well:

Ne certes Sir striue you it to withstand,

But let them still be bloudy, as befell,

That they his mothers innocence may tell,

As she bequeathd in her last testament;

That as a sacred Symbole it may dwell

In her sonnes flesh, to minde reuengement,

And be for all chast Dames an endlesse moniment.

He hearkned to his reason, and the childe

Vptaking, to the Palmer gaue to beare;

But his sad fathers armes with bloud defilde,

An heauie load himselfe did lightly reare,

And turning to that place, in which whyleare

He left his loftie steed with golden sell,

And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare.

By other accident that earst befell,

He is conuaide, but how or where, here fits not tell.

Which when Sir Guyon saw, all were he wroth,

Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease,

And fairely fare on foot, how euer loth;

His double burden did him sore disease.

So long they traueiled with litle ease,

Till that at last they to a Castle came,

Built on a rocke adioyning to the seas:

It was an auncient worke of antique fame,

And wondrous strong by nature, and by skilfull frame.

Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort,

The children of one sire by mothers three;

Who dying whylome did diuide this fort

To them by equall shares in equall fee:

But strifull minde, and diuerse qualitee

Drew them in parts, and each made others foe;

Still did they striue, and dayly disagree;

The eldest did against the youngest goe,

And both against the middest meant to worken woe.

Where when the knight arriu'd, he was right well

Receiu'd, as knight of so much worth became,

Of second sister, who did far excell

The other two; Medina was her name,

A sober sad, and comely curteous Dame;

Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize,

In goodly garments, that her well became,

Faire marching forth in honorable wize,

Him at the threshold met, and well did enterprize.

She led him vp into a goodly bowre,

And comely courted with meet modestie,

Ne in her speach, ne in her hauiour,

Was lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie,

But gratious womanhood, and grauitie,

Aboue the reason of her youthly yeares:

Her golden lockes she roundly did vptye

In breaded tramels, that no looser heares

Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame,

Seemely to entertaine her new-come guest,

Newes hereof to her other sisters came,

Who all this while were at their wanton rest,

Accourting each her friend with lauish fest:

They were two knights of perelesse puissance,

And famous far abroad for warlike gest,

Which to these Ladies loue did countenaunce,

And to his mistresse each himselfe stroue to aduaunce.

He that made loue vnto the eldest Dame,

Was hight Sir Huddibras, an hardy man;

Yet not so good of deedes, as great of name,

Which he by many rash aduentures wan,

Since errant armes to sew he first began;

More huge in strength, then wise in workes he was,

And reason with foole-hardize ouer ran;

Sterne melancholy did his courage pas,

And was for terrour more, all armd in shyning bras.

But he that lou'd the youngest, was Sans-loy,

He that faire Vna late fowle outraged,

The most vnruly, and the boldest boy,

That euer warlike weapons menaged,

And to all lawlesse lust encouraged,

Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might:

Ne ought he car'd, whom he endamaged

By tortious wrong, or whom bereau'd of right.

He now this Ladies champion chose for loue to fight.

These two gay knights, vowd to so diuerse loues,

Each other does enuie with deadly hate,

And dayly warre against his foeman moues,

In hope to win more fauour with his mate,

And th'others pleasing seruice to abate,

To magnifie his owne. But when they heard,

How in that place straunge knight arriued late,

Both knights and Ladies forth right angry far'd,

And fiercely vnto battell sterne themselues prepar'd.

But ere they could proceede vnto the place,

Where he abode, themselues at discord fell,

And cruell combat ioynd in middle space:

With horrible assault, and furie fell,

They heapt huge strokes, the scorned life to quell,

That all on vprore from her settled seat

The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell;

Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great

Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat.

The noyse thereof calth forth that straunger knight,

To weet, what dreadfull thing was there in hand;

Where when as two braue knights in bloudy fight

With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,

His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,

And shyning blade vnsheathd, with which he ran

Vnto that stead, their strife to vnderstond;

And at his first arriuall, them began

With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.

But they him spying, both with greedy forse

Attonce vpon him ran, and him beset

With strokes of mortall steele without remorse,

And on his shield like yron sledges bet:

As when a Beare and Tygre being met

In cruell fight on lybicke Ocean wide,

Espye a traueiler with feet surbet,

Whom they in equall pray hope to deuide,

They stint their strife, and him assaile on euery side.

But he, not like a wearie traueilere,

Their sharpe assault right boldly did rebut,

And suffred not their blowes to byte him nere

But with redoubled buffes them backe did put:

Whose grieued mindes, which choler did englut,

Against themselues turning their wrathfull spight,

Gan with new rage their shields to hew and cut;

But still when Guyon came to part their fight,

With heauie load on him they freshly gan to smight.

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas,

Whom raging windes threatning to make the pray

Of the rough rockes, do diuersly disease,

Meetes two contrary billowes by the way,

That her on either side do sore assay,

And boast to swallow her in greedy graue;

She scorning both their spights, does make wide way,

And with her brest breaking the fomy waue,

Does ride on both their backs, & faire her selfe doth saue.

So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth

Betweene them both, by conduct of his blade.

Wondrous great prowesse and heroick worth

He shewd that day, and rare ensample made,

When two so mighty warriours he dismade:

Attonce he wards and strikes, he takes and payes,

Now forst to yield, now forcing to inuade,

Before, behind, and round about him layes:

So double was his paines, so double be his prayse.

Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see

Three combats ioyne in one, and to darraine

A triple warre with triple enmitee,

All for their Ladies froward loue to gaine,

Which gotten was but hate. So loue does raine

In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre;

He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe,

And yet his peace is but continuall iarre:

O miserable men, that to him subiect arre.

Whilst thus they mingled were in furious armes,

The faire Medina with her tresses torne,

And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes,

Emongst them ran, and falling them beforne,

Besought them by the womb, which them had borne,

And by the loues, which were to them most deare,

And by the knighthood, which they sure had sworne,

Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare,

And to her iust conditions of faire peace to heare.

But her two other sisters standing by,

Her lowd gainsaid, and both their champions bad

Pursew the end of their strong enmity,

As euer of their loues they would be glad.

Yet she with pitthy words and counsell sad,

Still stroue their stubborne rages to reuoke,

That at the last suppressing fury mad,

They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke,

And hearken to the sober speaches, which she spoke.

Ah puissaunt Lords, what cursed euill Spright,

Or fell Erinnys, in your noble harts

Her hellish brond hath kindled with despight,

And stird you vp to worke your wilfull smarts?

Is this the ioy of armes? be these the parts

Of glorious knighthood, after bloud to thrust,

And not regard dew right and iust desarts?

Vaine is the vaunt, and victory vniust,

That more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.

And were there rightfull cause of difference,

Yet were not better, faire it to accord,

Then with bloud guiltinesse to heape offence,

And mortall vengeaunce ioyne to crime abhord?

O fly from wrath, fly, O my liefest Lord:

Sad be the sights, and bitter fruits of warre,

And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sword;

Ne ought the prayse of prowesse more doth marre,

Then fowle reuenging rage, and base contentious iarre.

But louely concord, and most sacred peace

Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds;

Weake she makes strong, & strong thing does increace,

Till it the pitch of highest prayse exceeds:

Braue be her warres, and honorable deeds,

By which she triumphes ouer ire and pride,

And winnes an Oliue girlond for her meeds:

Be therefore, O my deare Lords, pacifide,

And this misseeming discord meekely lay aside.

Her gracious words their rancour did appall,

And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests,

That downe they let their cruell weapons fall,

And lowly did abase their loftie crests

To her faire presence, and discrete behests.

Then she began a treatie to procure,

And stablish termes betwixt both their requests,

That as a law for euer should endure;

Which to obserue in word of knights they did assure.

Which to confirme, and fast to bind their league,

After their wearie sweat and bloudy toile,

She them besought, during their quiet treague,

Into her lodging to repaire a while,

To rest themselues, and grace to reconcile.

They soone consent: so forth with her they fare,

Where they are well receiu'd, and made to spoile

Themselues of soiled armes, and to prepare

Their minds to pleasure, & their mouthes to dainty fare.

And those two froward sisters, their faire loues

Came with them eke, all were they wondrous loth,

And fained cheare, as for the time behoues,

But could not colour yet so well the troth,

But that their natures bad appeard in both:

For both did at their second sister grutch,

And inly grieue, as doth an hidden moth

The inner garment fret, not th'vtter touch;

One thought their cheare too litle, th'other thought too mutch.

Elissa (so the eldest hight) did deeme

Such entertainment base, ne ought would eat,

Ne ought would speake, but euermore did seeme

As discontent for want of merth or meat;

No solace could her Paramour intreat,

Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliance,

But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat,

She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunce,

Vnworthy of faire Ladies comely gouernaunce.

But young Perissa was of other mind,

Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light,

And quite contrary to her sisters kind;

No measure in her mood, no rule of right,

But poured out in pleasure and delight;

In wine and meats she flowd aboue the bancke,

And in excesse exceeded her owne might;

In sumptuous tire she ioyd her selfe to prancke,

But of her loue too lauish (litle haue she thancke.)

Fast by her side did sit the bold Sans-loy

Fit mate for such a mincing mineon,

Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding ioy;

Might not be found a franker franion,

Of her lewd parts to make companion;

But Huddibras, more like a Malecontent,

Did see and grieue at his bold fashion;

Hardly could he endure his hardiment,

Yet still he sat, and inly did him selfe torment.

Betwixt them both the faire Medina sate

With sober grace, and goodly carriage:

With equall measure she did moderate

The strong extremities of their outrage;

That forward paire she euer would asswage,

When they would striue dew reason to exceed;

But that same froward twaine would accourage,

And of her plenty adde vnto their need:

So kept she them in order, and her selfe in heed.

Thus fairely she attempered her feast,

And pleasd them all with meete satietie,

At last when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,

She Guyon deare besought of curtesie,

To tell from whence he came through ieopardie,

And whither now on new aduenture bound.

Who with bold grace, and comely grauitie,

Drawing to him the eyes of all around,

From lofty siege began these words aloud to sound.

This thy demaund, O Lady, doth reuiue

Fresh memory in me of that great Queene,

Great and most glorious virgin Queene aliue,

That with her soueraigne powre, and scepter shene

All Faery lond does peaceable sustene.

In widest Ocean she her throne does reare,

That ouer all the earth it may be seene;

As morning Sunne her beames dispredden cleare,

And in her face faire peace, and mercy doth appeare.

In her the richesse of all heauenly grace

In chiefe degree are heaped vp on hye:

And all that else this worlds enclosure bace,

Hath great or glorious in mortall eye.

Adornes the person of her Maiestie;

That men beholding so great excellence,

And rare perfection in mortalitie,

Do her adore with sacred reuerence,

As th'Idole of her makers great magnificence.

To her I homage and my seruice owe,

In number of the noblest knights on ground,

Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestowe

Order of Maydenhead, the most renownd,

That may this day in all the world be found:

An yearely solemne feast she wontes to make

The day that first doth lead the yeare around;

To which all knights of worth and courage bold

Resort, to heare of straunge aduentures to be told.

There this old Palmer shewed himselfe that day,

And to that mighty Princesse did complaine

Of grieuous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay

Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,

Whereof he crau'd redresse. My Soueraine,

Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes

Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,

Eftsoones deuisd redresse for such annoyes;

Me all vnfit for so great purpose she employes.

Now hath faire Phoebe with her siluer face

Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,

Sith last I left that honorable place,

In which her royall presence is introld;

Ne euer shall I rest in house nor hold,

Till I that false Acrasia haue wonne;

Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to be told

I witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne,

Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne.

Tell on, faire Sir, said she, that dolefull tale,

From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,

That we may pitty such vnhappy bale,

And learne from pleasures poyson to abstaine:

Ill by ensample good doth often gayne.

Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,

And told the storie of the mortall payne,

Which Mordant and Amauia did rew;

As with lamenting eyes him selfe did lately vew.

Night was far spent, and now in Ocean deepe

Orion, flying fast from hissing snake,

His flaming head did hasten for to steepe,

When of his pitteous tale he end did make;

Whilest with delight of that he wisely spake,

Those guestes beguiled, did beguile their eyes

Of kindly sleepe, that did them ouertake.

At last when they had markt the chaunged skyes,

They wist their houre was spent; then each to rest him hyes.

Canto III

Vaine Braggadocchio getting Guyons

horse is made the scorne

Of knighthood trew, and is of fayre

Belphoebe fowle forlorne.

S Oone as the morrow faire with purple beames

Disperst the shadowes of the mistie night,

And Titan playing on the eastern streames,

cleare the deawy ayre with springing light,

Sir Guyon mindfull of his vow yplight,

Vprose from drowsie couch, and him addrest

Vnto the iourney which he had behight:

His puissaunt armes about his noble brest,

And many-folded shield he bound about his wrest.

Then taking Congé of that virgin pure,

The bloudy-handed babe vnto her truth

Did earnestly commit, and her coniure,

In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,

And all that gentle noriture ensu'th:

And that so soone as ryper yeares he raught,

He might for memorie of that dayes ruth,

Be called Ruddymane, and thereby taught,

T'auenge his Parents death on them, that had it wrought.

So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,

Sith his good steed is lately from him gone;

Patience perforce; helpelesse what may it boot

To fret for anger, or for griefe to mone?

His Palmer now shall foot no more alone:

So fortune wrought, as vnder greene woods syde

He lately heard that dying Lady grone,

He left his steed without, and speare besyde,

And rushed in on foot to ayd her, ere she dyde.

The whiles a losell wandring by the way,

One that to bountie neuer cast his mind,

Ne thought of honour euer did assay

His baser brest, but in his kestrell kind

A pleasing vaine of glory vaine did find,

To which his flowing toung, and troublous spright

Gaue him great ayd, and made him more inclind:

He that braue steed there finding ready dight,

Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full light.

Now gan his hart all swell in iollitie,

And of him selfe great hope and helpe conceiu'd,

That puffed vp with smoke of vanitie,

And with selfe-loued personage deceiu'd,

He gan to hope, of men to be receiu'd

For such, as he him thought, or faine would bee:

But for in court gay portaunce he perceiu'd,

And gallant shew to be in greatest gree,

Eftsoones to court he cast t'auaunce his first degree.

And by the way he chaunced to espy

One sitting idle on a sunny bancke,

To whom auaunting in great brauery,

As Peacocke, that his painted plumes doth prancke,

He smote his courser in the trembling flancke,

And to him threatned his hart-thrilling speare:

The seely man seeing him ryde so rancke,

And ayme at him, fell flat to ground for feare,

And crying Mercy lowd, his pitious hands gan reare.

Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous prowd,

Through fortune of his first aduenture faire,

And with big thundring voyce reuyld him lowd;

Vile Caytiue, vassall of dread and despaire,

Vnworthie of the commune breathed aire,

Why liuest thou, dead dog, a lenger day,

And doest not vnto death thy selfe prepaire.

Dye, or thy selfe my captiue yield for ay;

Great fauour I thee graunt, for aunswere thus to stay.

Hold, O deare Lord, hold your dead-doing hand,

Then loud he cryde, I am your humble thrall.

Ah wretch (quoth he) thy destinies withstand

My wrathfull will, and do for mercy call.

I giue thee life: therefore prostrated fall,

And kisse my stirrup; that thy homage bee.

The Miser threw him selfe, as an Offall,

Streight at his foot in base humilitee,

And cleeped him his liege, to hold of him in fee.

So happy peace they made and faire accord:

Eftsoones this liege-man gan to wexe more bold,

And when he felt the folly of his Lord,

In his owne kind he gan him selfe vnfold:

For he was wylie witted, and growne old

In cunning sleights and practick knauery.

From that day forth he cast for to vphold

His idle humour with fine flattery,

And blow the bellowes to his swelling vanity.

Trompart fit man for Braggadocchio,

To serue at court in view of vaunting eye;

Vaine-glorious man, when fluttring wind does blow

In his light wings, is lifted vp to skye:

The scorne of knighthood and trew cheualrye,

To thinke without desert of gentle deed,

And noble worth to be aduaunced hye:

Such prayse is shame; but honour vertues meed

Doth beare the fairest flowre in honorable seed.

So forth they pas, a well consorted paire,

Till that at length with Archimage they meet:

Who seeing one that shone in armour faire,

On goodly courser thundring with his feet,

Eftsoones supposed him a person meet,

Of his reuenge to make the instrument:

For since the Redcrosse knight he earst did weet,

To beene with Guyon knit in one consent,

The ill, which earst to him, he now to Guyon ment.

And comming close to Trompart gan inquere

Of him, what mighty warriour that mote bee,

That rode in golden sell with single spere,

But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee.

He is a great aduenturer, (said he)

That hath his sword through hard assay forgone,

And now hath vowd, till he auenged bee,

Of that despight, neuer to wearen none;

That speare is him enough to doen a thousand grone.

Th'enchaunter greatly ioyed in the vaunt,

And weened well ere long his will to win,

And both his foen with equall foyle to daunt.

Tho to him louting lowly, did begin

To plaine of wrongs, which had committed bin

By Guyon, and by that false Redcrosse knight,

Which two through treason and deceiptfull gin,

Had slaine Sir Mordant, and his Lady bright:

That mote him honour win, to wreake so foule despight.

Therewith all suddeinly he seemd enraged,

And threatned death with dreadfull countenaunce,

As if their liues had in his hand beene gaged;

And with stiffe force shaking his mortall launce,

To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce,

Thus said; Old man, great sure shalbe thy meed,

If where those knights for feare of dew vengeaunce

Do lurke, thou certainly to me areed,

That I may wreake on them their hainous hatefull deed.

Certes, my Lord, (said he) that shall I soone,

And giue you eke good helpe to their decay,

But mote I wisely you aduise to doon;

Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay

Your selfe of sword before that bloudy day:

For they be two the prowest knights on ground,

And oft approu'd in many hard assay,

And eke of surest steele, that may be found,

Do arme your selfe against that day, them to confound.

Dotard (said he) let be thy deepe aduise;

Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,

And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise,

Else neuer should thy iudgement be so fraile,

To measure manhood by the sword or maile.

Is not enough foure quarters of a man,

Withouten sword or shield, an host to quaile?

Thou little wotest, what this right hand can:

Speake they, which haue beheld the battailes, which it wan.

The man was much abashed at his boast;

Yet well he wist, that who so would contend

With either of those knights on euen coast,

Should need of all his armes, him to defend;

Yet feared least his boldnesse should offend,

When Braggadocchio said, Once I did sweare,

When with one sword seuen knights I brought to end,

Thence forth in battell neuer sword to beare,

But it were that, which noblest knight on earth doth weare.

Perdie Sir knight, said then th'enchaunter bliue,

That shall I shortly purchase to your hond:

For now the best and noblest knight aliue

Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond;

He hath a sword, that flames like burning brond.

The same by my deuice I vndertake

Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.

At which bold word that boaster gan to quake,

And wondred in his mind, what mote that monster make.

He stayd not for more bidding, but away

Was suddein vanished out of his sight:

The Northerne wind his wings did broad display

At his commaund, and reared him vp light

From off the earth to take his aerie flight.

They lookt about, but no where could espie

Tract of his foot: then dead through great affright

They both nigh were, and each bad other flie:

Both fled attonce, ne euer backe returned eie.

Till that they come vnto a forrest greene,

In which they shrowd themselues from causelesse feare;

Yet feare them followes still, where so they beene,

Each trembling leafe, and whistling wind they heare,

As ghastly bug their haire on end does reare:

Yet both doe striue their fearfulnesse to faine.

At last they heard a horne, that shrilled cleare

Throughout the wood, that ecchoed againe,

And made the forrest ring, as it would riue in twaine.

Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush;

With noyse whereof he from his loftie steed

Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush,

To hide his coward head from dying dreed.

But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed,

Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped forth

A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed,

That seemd to be a woman of great worth,

And by her stately portance, borne of heauenly birth.

Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not,

But heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew,

Cleare as the skie, withouten blame or blot,

Through goodly mixture of complexions dew;

And in her cheekes the vermeill red did shew

Like roses in a bed of lillies shed,

The which ambrosiall odours from them threw,

And gazers sense with double pleasure fed,

Hable to heale the sicke, and to reuiue the ded.

In her faire eyes two liuing lamps did flame,

Kindled aboue at th'heauenly makers light,

And darted fyrie beames out of the same,

So passing persant, and so wondrous bright,

That quite bereau'd the rash beholders sight:

In them the blinded god his lustfull fire

To kindle oft assayd, but had no might;

For with dredd Maiestie, and awfull ire,

She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

Her iuorie forhead, full of bountie braue,

Like a broad table did it selfe dispred,

For Loue his loftie triumphes to engraue,

And write the battels of his great godhed:

All good and honour might therein be red:

For there their dwelling was. And when she spake,

Sweet words, like dropping honny she did shed,

And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake

A siluer sound, that heauenly musicke seemd to make.

Vpon her eyelids many Graces sate,

Vnder the shadow of her euen browes,

Working belgards, and amorous retrate,

And euery one her with a grace endowes:

And euery one with meekenesse to her bowes.

So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,

And soueraine moniment of mortall vowes,

How shall fraile pen descriue her heauenly face,

For feare through want of skill her beautie to disgrace?

So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire

She seemd, when she presented was to sight,

And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,

All in a silken Camus lylly whight,

Purfled vpon with many a folded plight,

Which all aboue besprinckled was throughout,

With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,

Like twinckling starres, and all the skirt about

Was hemd with golden fringe

Below her ham her weed were somewhat traine,

And her streight legs most brauely were embayld

In gilden buskins of costly Cordwaine,

All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld

With curious antickes, and full faire aumayld:

Before they fastned were vnder her knee

In a rich Iewell, and therein entrayld

The ends of all their knots, that none might see,

How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.

Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,

Which doe the temple of the Gods support,

Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,

And honour in their festiuall resort;

Those same with stately grace, and princely port

She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,

But with the wooddie Nymphes when she did play,

Or when the flying Libbard she did chace,

She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held,

And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,

Stuft with steele-headed darts, wherewith she queld

The saluage beastes in her victorious play,

Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay

Athwart her snowy brest, and did diuide

Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May

Now little gan to swell, and being tide,

Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

Her yellow lockes crisped, like golden wyre,

About her shoulders weren loosely shed,

And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,

They waued like a penon wide dispred,

And low behinde her backe were scattered:

And whether art it were, or heedlesse hap,

As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,

In her rude haires sweet flowres themselues did lap,

And flourishing fresh leaues and blossomes did enwrap.

Such as Diana by the sandie shore

Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,

Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,

Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,

To seeke her game: Or as that famous Queene

Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy,

The day that first of Priame she was seene,

Did shew her selfe in great triumphant ioy,

To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.

Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew,

He was dismayed in his coward mind,

And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,

Or fly away, or bide alone behind:

Both feare and hope he in her face did find,

When she at last him spying thus bespake;

Hayle Groome; didst not thou see a bleeding Hind,

Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?

If thou didst, tell me, that I may her ouertake.

Wherewith reviu'd, this answere forth he threw;

O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)

For neither doth thy face terrestriall shew,

Nor voyce sound mortall; I auow to thee,

Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,

Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.

But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,

To weet, which of the Gods I shall thee name,

That vnto thee due worship I may rightly frame.

To whom she thus; but ere her words ensewed,

Vnto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,

In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewed,

And saw it stirre: she left her percing launce,

And towards gan a deadly shaft aduaunce,

In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,

Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,

Out crying, O what euer heauenly powre,

Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.

O stay thy hand, for yonder is no game

For thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,

But loe my Lord, my liege, whose warlike name,

Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;

And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.

She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,

Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,

And standing stoutly vp, his loftie crest

Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest.

As fearefull fowle, that long in secret caue

For dread of soaring hauke her selfe hath hid,

Not caring how, her silly life to saue,

She her gay painted plumes disorderid,

Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid,

Peepes foorth, and soone renewes her natiue pride;

She gins her feathers foule disfigured

Proudly to prune, and set on euery side,

So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.

So when her goodly visage he beheld,

He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewed

Those deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,

Soone into other fits he was transmewed,

Till she to him her gratious speach renewed;

All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,

As all the like, which honour haue pursewed

Through deedes of armes and prowesse martiall;

All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all

To whom he thus: O fairest vnder skie,

True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,

That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.

Therein haue I spent all my youthly daies,

And many battailes fought, and many fraies

Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,

Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise

Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound

In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.

But what art thou, O Ladie, which doest raunge

In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is,

And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,

Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis

And all delight does raigne, much more then this?

There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee,

And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;

There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:

The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee.

Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she)

Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis,

Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,

And in obliuion euer buried is:

Where ease abounds, yt's eath to doe amis;

But who his limbs with labours, and his mind

Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis.

Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind

Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honour soonest find.

In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell,

And will be found with perill and with paine;

Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,

Vnto her happie mansion attaine:

Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,

And wakefull watches euer to abide:

But easie is the way, and passage plaine

To pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide,

And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.

In Princes court,---The rest she would haue said,

But that the foolish man, fild with delight

Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid,

And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight,

Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light,

Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.

With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright

Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:

So turned her about, and fled away apace.

Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood,

And grieued at her flight; yet durst he not

Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood;

Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot

Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot:

Ne car'd he greatly for her presence vaine,

But turning said to Trompart, What foule blot

Is this to knight, that Ladie should againe

Depart to woods vntoucht, & leaue so proud disdaine?

Perdie (said Trompart) let her passe at will,

Least by her presence daunger mote befall.

For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)

But that she is some powre celestiall?

For whiles she spake, her great words did apall

My feeble courage, and my hart oppresse,

That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.

And I (said Braggadocchio) thought no lesse,

When first I heard her horne sound with such ghastlinesse.

For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue

Me giuen by eternall destinie,

That earthly thing may not my courage braue

Dismay with feare, or cause one foot to flie,

But either hellish feends, or powres on hie:

Which was the cause, when earst that horne I heard,

Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,

I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;

But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard.

But now for feare of worse, that may betide,

Let vs soone hence depart. They soone agree;

So to his steed he got, and gan to ride,

As one vnfit therefore, that all might see

He had not trayned bene in cheualree.

Which well that valiant courser did discerne;

For he despysd to tread in dew degree,

But chaufd and fom'd, with courage fierce and sterne,

And to be easd of that base burden still did erne.

Canto IV

Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,

and stops Occasion:

Deliuers Phedon, and therefore

by Strife is rayld vpon.

I N braue pursuit of honorable deed,

There is I know not what great difference

Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,

Which vnto things of valorous pretence

Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;

As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,

But chiefly skill to ride, seemes a science

Proper to gentle bloud; some others faine

To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.

But he the rightfull owner of that steed,

Who well could menage and subdew his pride,

The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,

With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide;

Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.

But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse

Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,

He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,

Teach him the weake to strengthen, & the strong suppresse.

It fortuned forth faring on his way,

He saw from farre, or seemed for to see

Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,

Whereto he drew in haste it to agree.

A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,

Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,

A handsome stripling with great crueltee,

Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many a wound,

That cheekes with teares, and sides with bloud did all abound.

And him behind, a wicked Hag did stalke,

In ragged robes, and filthy disaray,

Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke,

But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay;

Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,

Grew all afore, and loosely hong vnrold,

But all behind was bald, and worne away,

That none thereof could euer taken hold,

And eke her face ill fauourd, full of wrinckles old.

And euer as she went, her tongue did walke

In foule reproch, and termes of vile despight,

Prouoking him by her outrageous talke,

To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight;

Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite,

Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,

Withouten which she could not go vpright;

Ne any euill meanes she did forbeare,

That might him moue to wrath, and indignation reare.

The noble Guyon mou'd with great remorse,

Approching, first the Hag did thrust away,

And after adding more impetuous forse,

His mightie hands did on the madman lay,

And pluckt him backe; who all on fire streightway,

Against him turning all his fell intent,

With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,

And smot, and bit, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,

And did he wist not what in his auengement.

And sure he was a man of mickle might,

Had he had gouernance, it well to guide:

But when the franticke fit inflamd his spright,

His force was vaine, and strooke more often wide,

Then at the aymed marke, which he had eide:

And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt vnwares,

Whilst reason blent through passion, nought descride,

But as a blindfold Bull at randon fares,

And where he hits, nought knowes, & whom he hurts, nought cares.

His rude assault and rugged handeling

Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe

In faire defence and goodly menaging

Of armes was wont to fight, yet nathemoe

Was he abashed now not fighting so,

But more enfierced through his currish play,

Him sternely grypt, and haling to and fro,

To ouerthrow him strongly did assay,

But ouerthrew himselfe vnwares, and lower lay.

And being downe the villein sore did beat,

And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face:

And eke the Hag with many a bitter threat,

Still cald vpon to kill him in the place.

With whose reproch and odious menace

The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart,

Knit all his forces, and gan soone vnbrace

His grasping hold: so lightly did vpstart,

And drew his deadly weapon, to maintain his part.

Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly cryde,

Not so, O Guyon, neuer thinke that so

That Monster can be maistred or destroyd:

He is not, ah, he is not such a foe,

As steele can wound, or strength can ouerthroe.

That same is Furor, cursed cruell wight,

That vnto knighthood workes much shame and woe;

And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight

Occasion, the root of all wrath and despight.

With her, who so will raging Furor tame,

Must first begin, and well her amenage:

First her restraine from her reprochfull blame,

And euill meanes, with which she doth enrage

Her franticke sonne, and kindles his courage,

Then when she is withdrawen, or strong withstood,

It's eath his idle furie to asswage,

And calme the tempest of his passion wood;

The bankes are ouerflowen, when stopped is the flood.

Therewith Sir Guyon left his first emprise,

And turning to that woman, fast her hent

By the hoare lockes, that hong before her eyes,

And to the ground her threw: yet n'ould she stent

Her bitter rayling and foule reuilement,

But still prouokt her sonne to wreake her wrong;

But nathelesse he did her still torment,

And catching hold of her vngratious tong,

Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and strong.

Then when as vse of speach was from her reft,

With her two crooked handes she signes did make,

And beckned him, the last helpe she had left:

But he that last left helpe away did take,

And both her hands fast bound vnto a stake,

That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flie

Full fast away, and did her quite forsake;

But Guyon after him in haste did hie,

And soone him ouertooke in sad perplexitie.

In his strong armes he stiffely him embraste,

Who him gainstriuing, nought at all preuaild:

For all his power was vtterly defaste,

And furious fits at earst quite weren quaild:

Oft he re'nforst, and oft his forces fayld,

Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour slacke.

Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hayld,

And both his hands fast bound behind his backe,

And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke.

With hundred yron chaines he did him bind,

And hundred knots that did him sore constraine:

Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind,

And grimly gnash, threatning reuenge in vaine:

His burning eyen, whom bloudie strakes did staine,

Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fire,

And more for ranck despight, then for great paine,

Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire,

And bit his tawny beard to shew his raging ire.

Thus when as Guyon Furor had captiu'd,

Turning about he saw that wretched Squire,

Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu'd,

Lying on ground, all soild with bloud and mire:

Whom when as he perceiued to respire,

He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dresse.

Being at last recured, he gan inquire,

What hard mishap him brought to such distresse,

And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchednesse.

With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes,

Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can shun the hap,

That hidden lyes vnwares him to surpryse?

Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap

The man most warie in her whelming lap.

So me weake wretch, of many weakest one,

Vnweeting, and vnware of such mishap,

She brought to mischiefe through occasion,

Where this same wicked villein did me light vpon.

It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse

Of all my sorrow, and of these sad teares,

With whom from tender dug of commune nourse,

Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares

More rype vs reason lent to chose our Peares,

Our selues in league of vowed loue we knit:

In which we long time without gealous feares,

Or faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit;

And for my part I vow, dissembled not a whit.

It was my fortune commune to that age,

To loue a Ladie faire of great degree,

The which was borne of noble parentage,

And set in highest seat of dignitee,

Yet seemd no lesse to loue, then loued to bee:

Long I her seru'd, and found her faithfull still,

Ne euer thing could cause vs disagree:

Loue that two harts makes one, makes eke one will:

Each stroue to please, and others pleasure to fulfill.

My friend, hight Philemon, I did partake

Of all my loue and all my priuitie;

Who greatly ioyous seemed for my sake,

And gratious to that Ladie, as to mee,

Ne euer wight, that mote so welcome bee,

As he to her, withouten blot or blame,

Ne euer thing, that she could thinke or see,

But vnto him she would impart the same:

O wretched man, that would abuse so gentle Dame.

At last such grace I found, and meanes I wrought,

That I that Ladie to my spouse had wonne;

Accord of friends, consent of parents sought,

Affiance made, my happinesse begonne,

There wanted nought but few rites to be donne,

Which mariage make; that day too farre did seeme:

Most ioyous man, on whom the shining Sunne,

Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme,

And that my falser friend did no lesse ioyous deeme.

But ere that wished day his beame disclosd,

He either enuying my toward good,

Or of himselfe to treason ill disposd

One day vnto me came in friendly mood,

And told for secret how he vnderstood

That Ladie whom I had to me assynd,

Had both distaind her honorable blood,

And eke the faith, which she to me did bynd;

And therfore wisht me stay, till I more truth should fynd.

The gnawing anguish and sharpe gelosy,

Which his sad speech infixed in my brest,

Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly,

That my engreeued mind could find no rest,

Till that the truth thereof I did outwrest,

And him besought by that same sacred band

Betwixt vs both, to counsell me the best.

He then with solemne oath and plighted hand

Assur'd, ere long the truth to let me vnderstand.

Ere long with like againe he boorded mee,

Saying, he now had boulted all the floure,

And that it was a groome of base degree,

Which of my loue was partner Paramoure:

Who vsed in a darksome inner bowre

Her oft to meet: which better to approue,

He promised to bring me at that howre,

When I should see, that would me nearer moue,

And driue me to withdraw my blind abused loue.

This gracelesse man for furtherance of his guile,

Did court the handmayd of my Lady deare,

Who glad t'embosome his affection vile,

Did all she might, more pleasing to appeare.

One day to worke her to his will more neare,

He woo'd her thus: Pryene (so she hight)

What great despight doth fortune to thee beare,

Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright,

That it should not deface all others lesser light?

But if she had her least helpe to thee lent,

T'adorne thy forme according thy desart,

Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone haue blent,

And staynd their prayses with thy least good part;

Ne should faire Claribell with all her art,

Though she thy Lady be, approch thee neare;

For proofe thereof, this euening, as thou art,

Aray thy selfe in her most gorgeous geare,

That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.

The Maiden proud through prayse, and mad through loue

Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe arayd,

The whiles to me the treachour did remoue

His craftie engin, and as he had sayd,

Me leading, in a secret corner layd,

The sad spectatour of my Tragedie;

Where left, he went, and his owne false part playd,

Disguised like that groome of base degree,

Whom he had feignd th'abuser of my loue to bee.

Eftsoones he came vnto th'appointed place,

And with him brought Priene, rich arayd,

In Claribellaes clothes. Her proper face

I not descerned in that darkesome shade,

But weend it was my loue, with whom he playd.

Ah God, what horrour and tormenting griefe

My hart, my hands, mine eyes, and all assayd?

Me liefer were ten thousand deathes priefe,

Then wound of gealous worme, and shame of such repriefe.

I home returning, fraught with fowle despight,

And chawing vengeance all the way I went,

Soone as my loathed loue appeard in sight,

With wrathfull hand I slew her innocent;

That after soone I dearely did lament:

For when the cause of that outrageous deede

Demaunded, I made plaine and euident,

Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale did breede,

Confest, how Philemon her wrought to chaunge her weede.

Which when I heard, with horrible affright

And hellish fury all enragd, I sought

Vpon my selfe that vengeable despight

To punish: yet it better first I thought,

To wreake my wrath on him, that first it wrought.

To Philemon, false faytour Philemon

I cast to pay, that I so dearely bought;

Of deadly drugs I gaue him drinke anon,

And washt away his guilt with guiltie potion.

Thus heaping crime on crime, and griefe on griefe,

To losse of loue adioyning losse of frend,

I meant to purge both with a third mischiefe,

And in my woes beginner it to end:

That was Pryene; she did first offend,

She last should smart: with which cruell intent,

When I at her my murdrous blade did bend,

She fled away with ghastly dreriment,

And I pursewing my fell purpose, after went.

Feare gaue her wings, and rage enforst my flight;

Through woods and plaines so long I did her chace,

Till this mad man, whom your victorious might

Hath now fast bound, me met in middle space,

As I her, so he me pursewd apace,

And shortly ouertooke: I breathing yre,

Sore chauffed at my stay in such a cace,

And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre;

Which kindled once, his mother did more rage inspyre.

Betwixt them both, they haue me doen to dye,

Through wounds, & strokes, & stubborne handeling,

That death were better, then such agony,

As griefe and furie vnto me did bring;

Of which in me yet stickes the mortall sting,

That during life will neuer be appeasd.

When he thus ended had his sorrowing,

Said Guyon, Squire, sore haue ye beene diseasd;

But all your hurts may soone through temperance be easd.

Then gan the Palmer thus, most wretched man,

That to affections does the bridle lend;

In their beginning they are weake and wan,

But soone through suff'rance grow to fearefull end;

Whiles they are weake betimes with them contend:

For when they once to perfect strength do grow,

Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend

Gainst fort of Reason, it to ouerthrow:

Wrath, gelosie, griefe, loue this Squire haue layd thus low.

Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue do thus expell:

Wrath is a fire, and gealosie a weede,

Griefe is a flood, and loue a monster fell;

The fire of sparkes, the weede of little seede,

The flood of drops, the Monster filth did breede:

But sparks, seed, drops, and filth do thus delay;

The sparks soone quench, the springing seed outweed,

The drops dry vp, and filth wipe cleane away:

So shall wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue dye and decay.

Vnlucky Squire (said Guyon) sith thou hast

Falne into mischiefe through intemperaunce,

Henceforth take heede of that thou now hast past,

And guide thy wayes with warie gouernaunce,

Least worse betide thee by some later chaunce.

But read how art thou nam'd, and of what kin.

Phedon I hight (quoth he) and do aduaunce

Mine auncestry from famous Coradin,

Who first to rayse our house to honour did begin.

Thus as he spake, lo far away they spyde

A varlet running towards hastily,

Whose flying feet so fast their way applyde,

That round about a cloud of dust did fly,

Which mingled all with sweate, did dim his eye.

He soone approched, panting, breathlesse, whot,

And all so soyld, that none could him descry;

His countenaunce was bold, and bashed not

For Guyons lookes, but scornefull eyglaunce at him shot.

Behind his backe he bore a brasen shield,

On which was drawen faire, in colours fit,

A flaming fire in midst of bloudy field,

And round about the wreath this word was writ,

Burnt I do burne. Right well beseemed it,

To be the shield of some redoubted knight;

And in his hand two darts exceeding flit,

And deadly sharpe he held, whose heads were dight

In poyson and in bloud, of malice and despight.

When he in presence came, to Guyon first

He boldly spake, Sir knight, if knight thou bee,

Abandon this forestalled place at erst,

For feare of further harme, I counsell thee,

Or bide the chaunce at thine owne ieoperdie.

The knight at his great boldnesse wondered,

And though he scornd his idle vanitie,

Yet mildly him to purpose answered;

For not to grow of nought he it coniectured.

Varlet, this place most dew to me I deeme,

Yielded by him, that held it forcibly.

But whence should come that harme, which thou doest seeme

To threat to him, that minds his chaunce t'abye?

Perdy (said he) here comes, and is hard by

A knight of wondrous powre, and great assay,

That neuer yet encountred enemy,

But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dismay;

Ne thou for better hope, if thou his presence stay.

How hight he then (said Guyon) and from whence?

Pyrrhochles is his name, renowmed farre

For his bold feats and hardy confidence,

Full oft approu'd in many a cruell warre,

The brother of Cymochles, both which arre

The sonnes of old Acrates and Despight,

Acrates sonne of Phlegeton and Iarre;

But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and Night;

But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is hight.

So from immortall race he does proceede,

That mortall hands may not withstand his might,

Drad for his derring do, and bloudy deed;

For all in bloud and spoile is his delight.

His am I Atin, his in wrong and right,

That matter make for him to worke vpon,

And stirre him vp to strife and cruell fight.

Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon,

Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad confusion.

His be that care, whom most it doth concerne,

(Said he) but whither with such hasty flight

Art thou now bound? for well mote I discerne

Great cause, that carries thee so swift and light.

My Lord (quoth he) me sent, and streight behight

To seeke Occasion, where so she bee:

For he is all disposd to bloudy fight,

And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltie;

Hard is his hap, that first fals in his ieopardie.

Madman (said then the Palmer) that does seeke

Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife;

She comes vnsought, and shonned followes eke.

Happy, who can abstaine, when Rancour rife

Kindles Reuenge, and threats his rusty knife;

Woe neuer wants, where euery cause is caught,

And rash Occasion makes vnquiet life.

Then loe, where bound she sits, whom thou hast sought,

(Said Guyon,) let that message to thy Lord be brought.

That when the varlet heard and saw, streight way

He wexed wondrous wroth, and said, Vile knight,

That knights & knighthood doest with shame vpbray,

And shewst th'ensanple of thy childish might,

With silly weake old woman thus to fight.

Great glory and gay spoile sure hast thou got,

And stoutly prou'd thy puissaunce here in sight;

That shall Pyrrochles well requite, I wot,

And with thy bloud abolish so reprochfull blot.

With that one of his thrillant darts he threw,

Headed with ire and vengeable despight;

The quiuering steele his aymed end well knew,

And to his brest it selfe intended right:

But he was warie, and ere it empight

In the meant marke, aduaunst his shield atweene,

On which it seizing, no way enter might,

But backe rebounding, left the forckhead keene;

Eftsoones he fled away, and might no where be seene.

Canto V

Pyrrochles does with Guyon fight,

And Furors chayne vnbinds

Of whom sore hurt, for his reuenge

Atin Cymochles finds.

W Ho euer doth to temperaunce apply

His stedfast life, and all his actions frame,

Trust me, shall find no greater enimy,

Then stubborne perturbation, to the same;

To which right well the wise do giue that name,

For it the goodly peace of stayed mindes

Does ouerthrow, and troublous warre proclame:

His owne woes authour, who so bound it findes,

As did Pyrrochles, and it wilfully vnbindes.

After that varlets flight, it was not long,

Ere on the plaine fast pricking Guyon spide

One in bright armes embatteiled full strong,

That as the Sunny beames do glaunce and glide

Vpon the trembling waue, so shined bright,

And round about him threw forth sparkling fire,

That seemd him to enflame on euery side:

His steed was bloudy red, and fomed ire,

When with the maistring spur he did him roughly stire.

Approching nigh, he neuer stayd to greete,

Ne chaffar words, prowd courage to prouoke,

But prickt so fiers, that vnderneath his feete

The smouldring dust did round about him smoke,

Both horse and man nigh able for to choke;

And fairly couching his steele-headed speare,

Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke;

It booted nought Sir Guyon comming neare

To thinke, such hideous puissaunce on foot to beare.

But lightly shunned it, and passing by,

With his bright blade did smite at him so fell,

That the sharpe steele arriuing forcibly

On his broad shield, bit not, but glauncing fell

On his horse necke before the quilted sell,

And from the head the body sundred quight.

So him dismounted low, he did compell

On foot with him to matchen equall fight;

The truncked beast fast bleeding, did him fowly dight.

Sore bruzed with the fall, he slow vprose,

And all enraged, thus him loudly shent;

Disleall knight, whose coward courage chose

To wreake it selfe on beast all innocent,

And shund the marke, at which it should be ment,

Thereby thine armes seeme strong, but manhood fraile;

So hast thou oft with guile thine honour blent;

But litle may such guile thee now auaile,

If wonted force and fortune do not much me faile.

With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke

At him so fiercely, that the vpper marge

Of his seuenfolded shield away it tooke,

And glauncing on his helmet, made a large

And open gash therein: were not his targe,

That broke the violence of his intent,

The weary soule from thence it would discharge;

Nathelesse so sore abuff to him it lent,

That made him reele, and to his brest his beuer bent.

Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow,

And much ashamd, that stroke of liuing arme

Should him dismay, and make him stoup so low,

Though otherwise it did him litle harme:

Tho hurling high his yron braced arme,

He smote so manly on his shoulder plate,

That all his left side it did quite disarme;

Yet there the steele stayd not, but inly bate

Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate.

Deadly dismayd, with horrour of that dint

Pyrrochles was, and grieued eke entyre;

Yet nathemore did it his fury stint,

But added flame vnto his former fire,

That welnigh molt his hart in raging yre,

Ne thenceforth his approued skill, to ward,

Or strike, or hurle, round in warelike gyre,

Remembred he, ne car'd for his saufgard,

But rudely rag'd, and like a cruell Tygre far'd.

He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thundred blowes,

And euery way did seeke into his life,

Ne plate, ne male could ward so mighty throwes,

But yielded passage to his cruell knife.

But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife,

Was warie wise, and closely did awayt

Auauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife;

Sometimes a thwart, sometimes he strooke him strayt,

And falsed oft his blowes, t'illude him with such bayt.

Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre

A prowd rebellious Vnicorne defies,

T'auoide the rash assault and wrathfull stowre

Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applies,

And when him running in full course he spies,

He slips aside; the whiles that furious beast

His precious horne, sought of his enimies

Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be rel[e]ast,

But to the mighty victour yields a bounteous feast.

With such faire slight him Guyon often faild,

Till at the last all breathlesse, wearie, faint

Him spying, with fresh onset he assaild,

And kindling new his courage seeming queint,

Strooke him so hugely, that through great constraint

He made him stoup perforce vnto his knee,

And do vnwilling worship to the Saint,

That on his shield depainted he did see;

Such homage till that instant neuer learned hee.

Whom Guyon seeing stoup, pursewed fast

The present offer of faire victory.

And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast,

Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye,

That streight on ground made him full low to lye;

Then on his brest his victour foote he thrust:

With that he cryde, Mercy, do me not dye,

Ne deeme thy force by fortunes doome vniust,

That hath (maugre her spight) thus low me laid in dust.

Eftsoones his cruell hand Sir Guyon stayd,

Tempring the passion with aduizement slow,

And maistring might on enimy dismayd:

For th'equall dye of warre he well did know;

Then to him said, Liue and allegaunce owe,

To him that giues thee life and libertie,

And henceforth by this dayes ensample trow,

That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardrie,

Do breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamie.

So vp he let him rise, who with grim looke

And count'naunce sterne vpstanding, gan to grind

His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke

His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind,

Knotted in bloud and dust, for griefe of mind,

That he in ods of armes was conquered;

Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find,

That him so noble knight had maistered,

Whose bounty more then might, yet both he wondered.

Which Guyon marking said, Be nought agrieu'd,

Sir Knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre:

Was neuer man, who most conquestes atchieu'd

But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre,

Yet shortly gaynd, that losse exceeded farre:

Losse is no shame, nor to be lesse then foe,

But to be lesser, then himselfe, doth marre

Both loosers lot, and victours prayse alsoe.

Vaine others ouerthrowes, who selfe doth ouerthrowe.

Fly, O Pyrrochles, fly the dreadfull warre,

That in thy selfe thy lesser parts do moue,

Outrageous anger, and woe-working iarre,

Direfull impatience, and hart murdring loue;

Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remoue,

Which thee to endlesse bale captiued lead.

But sith in might thou didst my mercy proue,

Of curtesie to me the cause a read,

That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread.

Dreadlesse (said he) that shall I soone declare:

It was complaind, that thou hadst done great tort

Vnto an aged woman, poore and bare,

And thralled her in chaines with strong effort,

Voide of all succour and needfull comfort:

That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see,

To worke such shame. Therefore I thee exhort,

To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion free,

And to her captiue sonne yield his first libertee.

Thereat Sir Guyon smilde, And is that all

(Said he) that thee so sore displeased hath?

Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall,

Whose freedome shall thee turne to greatest scath.

Nath'lesse now quench thy whot emboyling wrath:

Loe there they be; to thee I yield them free.

Thereat he wondrous glad, out of the path

Did lightly leape, where he them bound did see,

And gan to breake the bands of their captiuitee.

Soone as Occasion felt her selfe vntyde,

Before her sonne could well assoyled bee,

She to her vse returnd, and streight defyde

Both Guyon and Pyrrochles: th'one (said shee)

Bycause he wonne; the other because hee

Was wonne: So matter did she make of nought,

To stirre vp strife, and do them disagree;

But soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought

To kindle his quencht fire, and thousand causes wrought.

It was not long, ere she inflam'd him so,

That he would algates with Pyrrochles fight,

And his redeemer chalengd for his foe,

Because he had not well mainteind his right,

But yielded had to that same straunger knight:

Now gan Pyrrochles wex as wood, as hee,

And him affronted with impatient might:

So both together fiers engrasped bee,

Whiles Guyon standing by, their vncouth strife does see.

Him all that while Occasion did prouoke

Against Pyrrochles, and new matter framed

Vpon the old, him stirring to be wroke

Of his late wrongs, in which she oft him blamed

For suffering such abuse, as knighhood shamed,

And him dishabled quite. But he was wise

Ne would with vaine occasions be inflamed;

Yet others she more vrgent did deuise:

Yet nothing could him to impatience entise.

Their fell contention still increased more,

And more thereby increased Furors might,

That he his foe has hurt, and wounded sore,

And him in bloud and durt deformed quight.

His mother eke, more to augment his spight,

Now brought to him a flaming fire brond,

Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning bright,

Had kindled: that she gaue into his hond,

That armd with fire, more hardly he mote him withstond.

Tho gan that villein wex so fiers and strong,

That nothing might sustaine his furious forse;

He cast him downe to ground, and all along

Drew him through durt and myre without remorse,

And fowly battered his comely corse,

That Guyon much disdeignd so loathly sight.

At last he was compeld to cry perforse,

Helpe, O Sir Guyon, helpe most noble knight,

To rid a wretched man from hands of hellish wight.

The knight was greatly moued at his plaint,

And gan him dight to succour his distresse,

Till that the Palmer, by his graue restraint,

Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse;

And said, Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth represse,

Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne:

He that his sorrow sought through wilfulnesse,

And his foe fettred would release agayne,

Deserues to tast his follies fruit, repented payne.

Guyon obayd; So him away he drew

From needlesse trouble of renewing fight

Already fought, his voyage to pursew.

But rash Pyrrochles varlet, Atin hight,

When late he saw his Lord in heauy plight,

Vnder Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall,

Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight,

Fled fast away, to tell his funerall

Vnto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call.

He was a man of rare redoubted might,

Famous throughout the world for warlike prayse,

And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight:

Full many doughtie knights he in his dayes

Had doen to death, subdewde in equall frayes,

Whose carkases, for terrour of his name,

Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous prayes,

And hong their conquered armes for more defame

On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest Dame.

His dearest Dame is that Enchaunteresse,

The vile Acrasia, that with vaine delightes,

And idle pleasures in his[her] Bowre of Blisse,

Does charme her louers, and the feeble sprightes

Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes:

Whom then she does transforme to monstrous hewes,

And horribly misshapes with vgly sightes,

Captiu'd eternally in yron mewes,

And darksom dens, where Titan his face neuer shewes.

There Atin found Cymochles soiourning,

To serue his Lemans loue: for he, by kind,

Was giuen all to lust and loose liuing,

When euer his fiers hands he free mote find:

And now he has pourd out his idle mind

In daintie delices, and lauish ioyes,

Hauing his warlike weapons cast behind,

And flowes in pleasures, and vaine pleasing toyes,

Mingled emongst loose Ladies and lasciuious boyes.

And ouer him, art striuing to compaire

With nature, did an Arber greene dispred,

Framed of wanton Yuie, flouring faire,

Through which the fragrant Eglantine did spred

His pricking armes, entrayld with roses red,

Which daintie odours round about them threw,

And all within with flowres was garnished,

That when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew,

Did breath out bounteous smels, & painted colors shew.

And fast beside, there trickled softly downe

A gentle streame, whose murmuring waue did play

Emongst the pumy stones, and made a sowne,

To lull him soft a sleepe, that by it lay;

The wearie Traueiler, wandring that way,

Therein did often quench his thristy heat,

And then by it his wearie limbes display,

Whiles creeping slomber made him to forget

His former paine, and wypt away his toylsoms weat.

And on the other side a pleasaunt groue

Was shot vp high, full of the stately tree,

That dedicated is t'Olympicke Ioue,

And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee

Gaynd in Nemea goodly victoree;

Therein the mery birds of euery sort

Chaunted alowd their chearefull harmonie:

And made emongst them selues a sweet consort,

That quickned the dull spright with musicall comfort.

There he him found all carelesly displayd,

In secret shadow from the sunny ray,

On a sweet bed of lillies softly layd,

Amidst a flocke of Damzels fresh and gay,

That round about him dissolute did play

Their wanton follies, and light meriment;

Euery of which did loosely disaray

Her vpper parts of meet habiliments,

And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments.

And euery of them stroue, with most delights,

Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew;

Some framd faire lookes, glancing like euening lights,

Others sweet words, dropping like honny dew;

Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew,

The sugred licour through his melting lips:

One boastes her beautie, and does yeeld to vew

Her daintie limbes aboue her tender hips,

Another her out boastes, and all for tryall strips.

He, like an Adder, lurking in the weeds,

His wandring thought in deepe desire does steepe,

And his fraile eye with spoyle of beautie feedes;

Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe,

Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe,

To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt,

Whereby close fire into his heart does creepe:

So, them deceiues, deceiu'd in his deceipt,

Made drunke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt.

Atin arriuing there, when him he spide,

Thus in still waues of deepe delight to wade,

Fiercely approching, to him lowdly cride,

Cymochles; oh no, but Cymochles shade,

In which that manly person late did fade,

What is become of great Acrates sonne?

Or where hath he hong vp his mortall blade,

That hath so many haughtie conquests wonne?

Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne?

Then pricking him with his sharpe-pointed dart,

He said? Vp, vp, thou womanish weake knight,

That here in Ladies lap entombed art,

Vnmindfull of thy praise and prowest might,

And weetlesse eke of lately wrought despight,

Whiles sad Pyrrochles lies on senselesse ground,

And groneth out his vtmost grudging spright,

Through many a stroke, & many a streaming wound,

Calling thy helpe in vaine, that here in ioyes art dround.

Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame

The man awoke, and would haue questiond more;

But he would not endure that wofull theame

For to dilate at large, but vrged sore

With percing words, and pittifull implore,

Him hastie to arise. As one affright

With hellish feends, or Furies mad vprore,

He then vprose, inflam'd with fell despight,

And called for his armes; for he would algates fight.

They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight,

And lightly mounted, passeth on his way,

Ne Ladies loues, ne sweete entreaties might

Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay;

For he has vowd, to beene aueng'd that day,

(That day it selfe him seemed all too long:)

On him, that did Pyrrochles deare dismay:

So proudly pricketh on his courser strong,

And Atin aie him pricks with spurs of shame & wrong.

Canto VI

Guyon is of immodest Merth,

led into loose desire,

Fights with Cymochles, whiles his

brother burnes in furious fire.

A harder lesson, to learne Continence

In ioyous pleasure, then in grieuous paine:

or sweetnesse doth allure the weaker sence

So strongly, that vneathes it can refraine

From that, which feeble nature couets faine;

But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies,

And foes of life, she better can restraine;

Yet vertue vauntes in both their victories,

And Guyon in them all shewes goodly maisteries.

Whom bold Cymochles trauelling to find,

With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him

The wrath, which Atin kindled in his mind,

Came to a riuer, by whose vtmost brim

Wayting to passe, he saw whereas did swim

A long the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye,

A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim

With boughes and arbours wouen cunningly,

That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly.

And therein sate a Ladie fresh and faire,

Making sweet solace to her selfe alone;

Sometimes she sung, as loud as larke in aire,

Sometimes she laught, that nigh her breth was gone,

Yet was there not with her else any one,

That might to her moue cause of meriment:

Matter of merth enough, though there were none

She could deuise, and thousand waies inuent,

To feede her foolish humour, and vaine iolliment.

Which when farre off Cymochles heard, and saw,

He loudly cald to such, as were a bord,

The little barke vnto the shore to draw,

And him to ferrie ouer that deepe ford:

The merry marriner vnto his word

Soone hearkned, and her painted bote streightway

Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike Lord

She in receiu'd; but Atin by no way

She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.

Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide,

More swift, then swallow sheres the liquid skie,

Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide,

Or winged canuas with the wind to flie,

Only she turn'd a pin, and by and by

It cut away vpon the yielding waue,

Ne cared she her course for to apply:

For it was taught the way, which she would haue,

And both from rocks and flats it selfe could wisely saue.

And all the way, the wanton Damzell found

New merth, her passenger to entertaine:

For she in pleasant purpose did abound,

And greatly ioyed merry tales to faine,

Of which a store-house did with her remaine,

Yet seemed, nothing well they her became;

For all her words she drownd with laughter vaine,

And wanted grace in vtt'ring of the same,

That turned all her pleasance to a scoffing game.

And other whiles vaine toyes she would deuize

As her fantasticke wit did most delight,

Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize

With gaudie girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight

About her necke, or rings of rushes plight;

Sometimes to doe him laugh, she would assay

To laugh at shaking of the leaues light,

Or to behold the water worke, and play

About her litle frigot, therein making way.

Her light behauiour, and loose dalliaunce

Gaue wondrous great contentment to the knight,

That of his way he had no souenaunce,

Nor care of vow'd reuenge, and cruell fight,

But to weake wench did yeeld his martiall might.

So easie was to quench his flamed mind

With one sweet drop of sensuall delight:

So easie is, t'appease the stormie wind

Of malice in the calme of pleasant womankind.

Diuerse discourses in their way they spent,

Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned,

Both what she was, and what that vsage ment,

Which in her cot she daily practised.

Vaine man (said she) that wouldest be reckoned

A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt

Of Phædria (for so my name is red)

Of Phædria, thine owne fellow seruaunt;

For thou to serue Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt.

In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name

The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row,

That knowes her port, and thither sailes by ayme,

Ne care, ne feare I, how the wind do blow,

Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow:

Both slow and swift a like do serue my tourne,

Ne swelling Neptune, ne loud thundring Ioue

Can chaunge my cheare, or make me euer mourne;

My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd,

They were farre past the passage, which he spake,

And come vnto an Island, waste and voyd,

That floted in the midst of that great lake:

There her small Gondelay her port did make,

And that gay paire issuing on the shore

Disburdned her. Their way they forward take

Into the land, that lay them faire before,

Whose pleasaunce she him shew'd, and plentifull great store.

It was a chosen plot of fertile land,

Emongst wide waues set, like a litle nest,

As if it had by Natures cunning hand,

Bene choisely picked out from all the rest,

And laid forth for ensample of the best:

No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground,

No arboret with painted blossomes drest,

And smelling sweet, but there it might be found

To bud out faire, and her sweet smels throw all around.

No tree, whose braunches did not brauely spring;

No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sit:

No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;

No song but did containe a louely dit:

Trees, braunches, birds, and songs were framed fit,

For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.

Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake wit

Was ouercome of thing, that did him please;

So pleased, did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.

Thus when she had his eyes and senses fed

With false delights, and fild with pleasures vaine,

Into a shadie dale she soft him led,

And laid him downe vpon a grassie plaine;

And her sweet selfe without dread, or disdaine,

She set beside, laying his head disarm'd

In her loose lap, it softly to sustaine,

Where soone he slumbred, fearing not be harm'd,

The whiles with a loue lay she thus him sweetly charm'd.

Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take

The flowres, the fields, and all that pleasant growes,

How they themselues doe thine ensample make,

Whiles nothing enuious nature them forth throwes

Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man knowes,

They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire,

And deck the world with their rich pompous showes;

Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,

Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.

The lilly, Ladie of the flowring field,

The Flowre-deluce, her louely Paramoure,

Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labours yield,

And soone leaue off this toylesome wearie stoure;

Loe loe how braue she decks her bounteous boure,

With silken curtens and gold couerlets,

Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Belamoure,

Yet neither spinnes nor cardes, ne cares nor frets,

But to her mother Nature all her care she lets.

Why then dost thou, O man, that of them all

Art Lord, and eke of nature Soueraine,

Wilfully make thy selfe a wretched thrall,

And wast thy ioyous houres in needlesse paine,

Seeking for daunger and aduentures vaine?

What bootes it all to haue, and nothing vse?

Who shall him rew, that swimming in the maine,

Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse?

Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures chuse.

By this she had him lulled fast a sleepe,

That of no wordly thing he care did take;

Then she with liquors strong his eyes did steepe,

That nothing should him hastily awake:

So she him left, and did her selfe betake

Vnto her boat againe, with which she cleft

The slouthfull waue of that great griesly lake;

Soone she that Island farre behind her left,

And now is come to that same place, where first she weft.

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought

Vnto the other side of that wide strond,

Where she was rowing, and for passage sought:

Him needed not long call, she soone to hond

Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond,

With his sad guide; himselfe she tooke a boord,

But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to stond,

Ne would for price, or prayers once affoord,

To ferry that old man ouer the perlous foord.

Guyon was loath to leaue his guide behind,

Yet being entred, might not backe retyre;

For the flit barke, obaying to her mind,

Forth launched quickly, as she did desire,

Ne gaue him leaue to bid that aged sire

Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course

Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire,

Whom neither wind out of their seat could forse,

Nor timely tides did driue out of their sluggish sourse.

And by the way, as was her wonted guize,

Her merry fit she freshly gan to reare,

And did of ioy and iollitie deuize,

Her selfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare:

The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare

Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake;

But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare,

And passe the bonds of modest merimake,

Her dalliance he despisd, and follies did forsake.

Yet she still followed her former stile,

And said, and did all that mote him delight,

Till they arriued in that pleasant Ile,

Where sleeping late she left her other knight.

But when as Guyon of that land had sight,

He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said;

Ah Dame, perdie ye haue not doen me right,

Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obaid:

Me litle needed from my right way to haue straid.

Faire Sir (quoth she) be not displeasd at all;

Who fares on sea, may not commaund his way,

Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call:

The sea is wide, and easie for to stray;

The wind vnstable, and doth neuer stay.

But here a while ye may in safety rest,

Till season serue new passage to assay;

Better safe port, then be in seas distrest.

Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in iest.

But he halfe discontent, mote nathelesse

Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore:

The ioyes whereof, and happie fruitfulnesse,

Such as he saw, she gan him lay before,

And all though pleasant, yet she made much more:

The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring,

The trees did bud, and earely blossomes bore,

And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,

And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling.

And she more sweet, then any bird on bough,

Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part,

And striue to passe (as she could well enough)

Their natiue musicke by her skilfull art:

So did she all, that might his constant hart

Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,

And drowne in dissolute delights apart,

Where noyse of armes, or vew of martiall guize

Might not reuiue desire of knightly exercize.

But he was wise, and warie of her will,

And euer held his hand vpon his hart:

Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill,

As to despise so courteous seeming part,

That gentle Ladie did to him impart,

But fairely tempring fond desire subdewd,

And euer her desired to depart.

She list not heare, but her disports poursewd,

And euer bad him stay, till time the tide renewd.

And now by this, Cymochles howre was spent,

That he awoke out of his idle dreme,

And shaking off his drowzie dreriment,

Gan him auize, how ill did him beseeme,

In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme,

And quench the brond of his conceiued ire.

Tho vp he started, stird with shame extreme,

Ne staied for his Damzell to inquire,

But marched to the strond, their passage to require.

And in the way he with Sir Guyon met,

Accompanyde with Phædria the faire,

Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly fret,

Crying, Let be that Ladie debonaire,

Thou recreant knight, and soone thy selfe prepaire

To battell, if thou meane her loue to gaine:

Loe, loe alreadie, how the fowles in aire

Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtaine

Thy carcasse for their pray, the guerdon of thy paine.

And therewithall he fiercely at him flew,

And with importune outrage him assayld;

Who soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew,

And him with equall value counteruayld:

Their mightie strokes their haberieons dismayld,

And naked made each others manly spalles;

The mortall steele despiteously entayld

Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles,

That a large purple streme adown their giambeux falles.

Cymochles, that had neuer met before

So puissant foe, with enuious despight

His proud presumed force increased more,

Disdeigning to be held so long in fight;

Sir Guyon grudging not so much his might,

As those vnknightly raylings, which he spoke,

With wrathfull fire his courage kindled bright,

Thereof deuising shortly to be wroke,

And doubling all his powres, redoubled euery stroke.

Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunst,

And both attonce their huge blowes downe did sway;

Cymochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst,

And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away;

But Guyons angry blade so fierce did play

On th'others helmet, which as Titan shone,

That quite it cloue his plumed crest in tway,

And bared all his head vnto the bone;

Wherewith astonisht, still he stood, as senselesse stone.

Still as he stood, faire Phædria, that beheld

That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran;

And at their feet her selfe most humbly feld,

Crying with pitteous voice, and count'nance wan;

Ah well away, most noble Lords, how can

Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight,

To shed your liues on ground? wo worth the man,

That first did teach the cursed steele to bight

In his owne flesh, and make way to the liuing spright.

If euer loue of Ladie did empierce

Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place,

Withhold your bloudie hands from battell fierce,

And sith for me ye fight, to me this grace

Both yeeld, to stay your deadly strife a space.

They stayd a while: and forth she gan proceed:

Most wretched woman, and of wicked race,

That am the author of this hainous deed,

And cause of death betweene two doughtie knights doe breed.

But if for me ye fight, or me will serue,

Not this rude kind of battell, nor these armes

Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterue,

And dolefull sorrow heape with deadly harmes:

Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes:

Another warre, and other weapons I

Doe loue, where loue does giue his sweet alarmes,

Without bloudshed, and where the enemy

Does yeeld vnto his foe a pleasant victory.

Debatefull strife, and cruell enmitie

The famous name of knighthood fowly shend;

But louely peace, and gentle amitie,

And in Amours the passing houres to spend,

The mightie martiall hands doe most commend;

Of loue they euer greater glory bore,

Then of their armes: Mars is Cupidoes frend,

And is for Venus loues renowmed more,

Then all his wars and spoiles, the which he did of yore.

Therewith she sweetly smyld. They though full bent,

To proue extremities of bloudie fight,

Yet at her speach their rages gan relent,

And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight,

Such powre haue pleasing words: such is the might

Of courteous clemencie in gentle hart.

Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight

Besought that Damzell suffer him depart,

And yield him readie passage to that other part.

She no lesse glad, then he desirous was

Of his departure thence; for of her ioy

And vaine delight she saw he light did pas,

A foe of folly and immodest toy,

Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy,

Delighting all in armes and cruell warre,

That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy,

Troubled with terrour and vnquiet iarre,

That she well pleased was thence to amoue him farre.

Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote

Forthwith directed to that further strand;

The which on the dull waues did lightly flote

And soone arriued on the shallow sand,

Where gladsome Guyon salied forth to land,

And to that Damzell thankes gaue for reward.

Vpon that shore he spied Atin stand,

There by his maister left, when late he far'd

In Phædrias flit barke ouer that perlous shard.

Well could he him remember, sith of late

He with Pyrrochles sharp debatement made;

Streight gan he him reuile, and bitter rate,

As shepheards curre, that in darke euenings shade

Hath tracted forth some saluage beastes trade;

Vile Miscreant (said he) whither doest thou flie

The shame and death, which will thee soone inuade?

What coward hand shall doe thee next to die,

That art thus foully fled from famous enemie?

With that he stiffely shooke his steelehead dart:

But sober Guyon, hearing him so raile,

Though somewhat moued in his mightie hart,

Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile,

And passed fairely forth. He turning taile,

Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd,

Awaiting passage, which him late did faile;

The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd

The hastie heat of his auowd reuenge delayd.

Whylest there the varlet stood, he saw from farre

An armed knight, that towards him fast ran,

He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre

His forlorne steed from him the victour wan;

He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan,

And all his armour sprinckled was with bloud,

And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can

Discerne the hew thereof. He neuer stood,

But bent his hastie course towards the idle flood.

The varlet saw, when to the flood he came,

How without stop or stay he fiercely lept,

And deepe him selfe beduked in the same,

That in the lake his loftie crest was steept,

Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept,

But with his raging armes he rudely flasht,

The waues about, and all his armour swept,

That all the bloud and filth away was washt,

Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht.

Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote bee;

For much he wondred at that vncouth sight;

Whom should he, but his owne deare Lord, there see,

His owne deare Lord Pyrrochles, in sad plight,

Readie to drowne himselfe for fell despight.

Harrow now out, and well away, he cryde,

What dismall day hath lent this cursed light,

To see my Lord so deadly damnifyde

Pyrrochles, O Pyrrochles, what is thee betyde?

I burne, I burne, I burne, then loud he cryde,

O how I burne with implacable fire,

Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde,

Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of mire,

Nothing but death can doe me to respire.

Ah be it (said he) from Pyrrochles farre

After pursewing death once to require,

Or think, that ought those puissant hands may marre:

Death is for wretches borne vnder vnhappie starre.

Perdie, then is it fit for me (said he)

That am, I weene, most wretched man aliue,

Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see,

And dying daily, daily yet reuiue:

O Atin, helpe to me last death to giue.

The varlet at his plaint was grieu'd so sore,

That his deepe wounded hart in two did riue,

And his owne health remembring now no more,

Did follow that ensample, which he blam'd afore.

Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd,