Chapter X: Book VII: Two Cantos of Mvtabilitie 454 (10)

Whom when his other fellowes saw, they fled xxxvi
As fast as feete could carry them away;
And after them the Prince as swiftly sped,
To be aueng’d of their vnknightly play.
There whilest they entring, th’one did th’other stay,
The hindmost in the gate he ouerhent,
And as he pressed in, him there did slay:
His carkasse tumbling on the threshold, sent
His groning soule vnto her place of punishment.

The other which was entred, laboured fast xxxvii
To sperre the gate; but that same lumpe of clay,
Whose grudging ghost was thereout fled and past,[360]
Right in the middest of the threshold lay,
That it the Posterne did from closing stay:
The whiles the Prince hard[361] preased in betweene,
And entraunce wonne. Streight th’other fled away,
And ran into the Hall, where he did weene
Him selfe to saue: but he there slew him at the skreene.

Then all the rest which in that Castle were, xxxviii
Seeing that sad ensample them before,
Durst not abide, but fled away for feare,
And them conuayd out at a Posterne dore.
Long sought the Prince, but when he found no more
T’oppose against his powre, he forth issued
Vnto that Lady, where he her had lore,
And her gan cheare, with what she there had vewed,
And what she had not seene, within vnto her shewed.

Who with right humble thankes him goodly greeting, xxxix
For so great prowesse, as he there had proued,
Much greater then was euer in her weeting,
With great admiraunce inwardly was moued,
And honourd him, with all that her behoued.
Thenceforth into that Castle he her led,
With her two sonnes, right deare of her beloued,
Where all that night them selues they cherished,
And from her balefull minde all care he banished.

FOOTNOTES:

[344] Arg. 2 _Belgee_ _1596_

[345] i 3 _Mercie_ _1596_

[346] iii 6 _Americke conj. Todd_

[347] vi 4 and her Peares _1609_

[348] vii 1 _Belgæ_ _1596_, _1609_

[349] viii 4 Idol _conj. Church_

[350] ix i brad _1609_

[351] 3 drad _1609_

[352] xi 8 decease _1609_

[353] xvi 8 mount; _1596_

[354] xvii 4 care; _1596_, _1609_

[355] 8 _Artigall_ _1596_

[356] xxvi 3 now so _conj. Church_

[357] xxviii 9 eyes, _1596_

[358] xxix 2 stone; _1596_, _1609_

[359] xxxii 4 would _1609_

[360] xxxvii 3 past; _1596_

[361] 6 hard] had _1609_

_Cant. XI._

_Prince Arthure ouercomes the great
Gerioneo in fight:
Doth slay the Monster, and restore
Belge vnto her right._
]

It often fals in course of common life, i
That right long time is ouerborne of wrong,
Through auarice, or powre, or guile, or strife,
That weakens her, and makes her party strong:
But Iustice, though her dome she doe prolong,
Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.
As by sad _Belge_ seemes, whose wrongs though long
She suffred, yet at length she did requight,
And sent redresse thereof by this braue Briton Knight.

Whereof when newes was to that Tyrant brought, ii
How that the Lady _Belge_ now had found
A Champion, that had with his Champion fought,
And laid his Seneschall low on the ground,
And eke him selfe did threaten to confound,
He gan to burne in rage, and friese in feare,
Doubting sad end of principle vnsound:
Yet sith he heard but one, that did appeare,
He did him selfe encourage, and take better cheare.

Nathelesse him selfe he armed all in hast, iii
And forth he far’d with all his many bad,
Ne stayed step, till that he came at last
Vnto the Castle, which they conquerd had.
There with huge terrour, to be more ydrad,
He sternely marcht before the Castle gate,
And with bold vaunts, and ydle threatning bad
Deliuer him his owne, ere yet too late,
To which they had no right, nor any wrongfull state.

The Prince staid not his aunswere to deuize, iv
But opening streight the Sparre, forth to him came,
Full nobly mounted in right warlike wize;
And asked him, if that he were the same,
Who all that wrong vnto that wofull Dame
So long had done, and from her natiue land
Exiled her, that all the world spake shame.
He boldly aunswerd him, he there did stand
That would his doings iustifie with his owne hand.

With that so furiously at him he flew, v
As if he would haue ouerrun him streight,
And with his huge great yron axe gan hew
So hideously vppon his armour bright,
As he to peeces would haue chopt it quight:
That the bold Prince was forced foote to giue
To his first rage, and yeeld to his despight;
The whilest at him so dreadfully he driue,
That seem’d a marble rocke asunder could haue riue.

Thereto a great aduauntage eke he has vi
Through his three double hands thrise multiplyde,
Besides the double strength, which in them was:
For stil when fit occasion did betyde,
He could his weapon shift from side to syde,
From hand to hand, and with such nimblesse sly
Could wield about, that ere it were espide,
The wicked stroke did wound his enemy,
Behinde, beside, before, as he it list apply.

Which vncouth vse when as the Prince perceiued, vii
He gan to watch the wielding of his hand,
Least by such slight he were vnwares deceiued;
And euer ere he saw the stroke to land,
He would it meete, and warily withstand.
One time, when he his weapon faynd to shift,
As he was wont, and chang’d from hand to hand,
He met him with a counterstroke so swift,
That quite smit off his arme, as he it vp did lift.

Therewith, all fraught with fury and disdaine, viii
He brayd aloud for very fell despight,
And sodainely t’auenge him selfe againe,
Gan into one assemble all the might
Of all his hands, and heaued them on hight,
Thinking to pay him with that one for all:
But the sad steele seizd not, where it was hight,
Vppon the childe, but somewhat short did fall,
And lighting on his horses head, him quite did mall.

Downe streight to ground fell his astonisht steed, ix
And eke to th’earth his burden with him bare:
But he him selfe full lightly from him freed,
And gan him selfe to fight on foote prepare.
Whereof when as the Gyant was aware,
He wox right blyth, as he had got thereby,
And laught so loud, that all his teeth wide bare
One might haue seene enraung’d disorderly,
Like to a rancke of piles, that pitched are awry.

Eftsoones againe his axe he raught on hie, x
Ere he were throughly buckled to his geare,
And can let driue at him so dreadfullie,
That had he chaunced not his shield to reare,
Ere that huge stroke arriued on him neare,
He had him surely clouen quite in twaine.
But th’Adamantine shield, which he did beare,
So well was tempred, that for all his maine,
It would no passage yeeld vnto his purpose vaine.

Yet was the stroke so forcibly applide, xi
That made him stagger with vncertaine sway,
As if he would haue tottered to one side.
Wherewith full wroth, he fiercely gan assay,
That curt’sie with like kindnesse to repay;
And smote at him with so importune might,
That two more of his armes did fall away,
Like fruitlesse braunches, which the hatchets slight
Hath pruned from the natiue tree, and cropped quight.

With that all mad and furious he grew, xii
Like a fell mastiffe through enraging heat,
And curst, and band, and blasphemies forth threw,
Against his Gods, and fire to them did threat,
And hell vnto him selfe with horrour great.
Thenceforth he car’d no more, which way he strooke,
Nor where it light, but gan to chaufe and sweat,
And gnasht his teeth, and his head at him shooke,
And sternely him beheld with grim and ghastly looke.

Nought fear’d the childe his lookes, ne yet his threats, xiii
But onely wexed now the more aware,
To saue him selfe from those his furious heats,
And watch aduauntage, how to worke his care:
The which good Fortune to him offred faire.
For as he in his rage him ouerstrooke,
He ere he could his weapon backe repaire,
His side all bare and naked ouertooke,
And with his mortal steel quite throgh[362] the body strooke.

Through all three bodies he him strooke attonce; xiv
That all the three attonce fell on the plaine:
Else should he thrise haue needed, for the nonce
Them to haue stricken, and thrise to haue slaine.
So now all three one sencelesse lumpe remaine,
Enwallow’d in his owne blacke bloudy gore,
And byting th’earth for very deaths disdaine;
Who with a cloud of night him couering, bore
Downe to the house of dole,[363] his daies there to deplore.

Which when the Lady from the Castle saw, xv
Where she with her two sonnes did looking stand,
She towards him in hast her selfe did draw,
To greet him the good fortune of his hand:
And all the people both of towne and land,
Which there stood gazing from the Citties wall
Vppon these warriours, greedy t’vnderstand,
To whether should the victory befall,
Now when they saw it falne, they eke him greeted all.

But _Belge_ with her sonnes prostrated low xvi
Before his feete, in all that peoples sight[364],
Mongst ioyes mixing some tears, mongst wele, some wo
Him thus bespake; O most redoubted Knight,
The which hast me, of all most wretched wight,
That earst was dead, restor’d to life againe,
And these weake impes replanted by thy might;
What guerdon can I giue thee for thy paine,
But euen that which thou sauedst, thine still to remaine?

He tooke her vp forby the lilly hand, xvii
And her recomforted the best he might,
Saying; Deare Lady, deedes ought not be scand
By th’authors manhood, nor the doers might,
But by their trueth and by the causes right:
That same is it, which fought for you this day.
What other meed then need me to requight,
But that which yeeldeth vertues meed alway?
That is the vertue selfe, which her reward doth pay.

She humbly thankt him for that wondrous grace, xviii
And further sayd; Ah Sir, but mote ye please,
Sith ye thus farre haue tendred my poore case,
As from my chiefest foe me to release,
That your victorious arme will not yet cease,
Till ye haue rooted all the relickes out
Of that vilde[365] race, and stablished my peace.
What is there else (sayd he) left of their rout?
Declare it boldly Dame, and doe not stand in dout.

Then wote you, Sir, that in this Church hereby, xix
There stands an Idole of great note and name,
The which this Gyant reared first on hie,
And of his owne vaine fancies thought did frame:
To whom for endlesse horrour of his shame,
He offred vp for daily sacrifize
My children and my people, burnt in flame;
With all the tortures, that he could deuize,
The more t’aggrate his God with such his blouddy guize.

And vnderneath this Idoll there doth lie xx
An hideous monster, that doth it defend,
And feedes on all the carkasses, that die
In sacrifize vnto that cursed feend:
Whose vgly shape none euer saw, nor kend,
That euer scap’d: for of a man they say
It has the voice, that speaches forth doth send,
Euen blasphemous words, which she doth bray
Out of her poysnous entrails, fraught with dire decay.

Which when the Prince heard tell, his heart gan earne[366] xxi
For great desire, that Monster to assay,
And prayd the place of her abode to learne.
Which being shew’d, he gan him selfe streight way
Thereto addresse, and his bright shield display.
So to the Church he came, where it was told,
The Monster vnderneath the Altar lay;
There he that Idoll saw of massy gold
Most richly made, but there no Monster did behold.

Vpon the Image with his naked blade xxii
Three times, as in defiance, there he strooke;
And the third time out of an hidden shade,
There forth issewd, from vnder th’Altars smooke,
A dreadfull feend, with fowle deformed looke,
That stretcht it selfe, as it had long lyen still;
And her long taile and fethers strongly shooke,
That all the Temple did with terrour fill;
Yet him nought terrifide, that feared nothing ill.

An huge great Beast it was, when it in length xxiii
Was stretched forth, that nigh fild all the place,
And seem’d to be of infinite great strength;
Horrible, hideous, and of hellish race,
Borne of the brooding of _Echidna_ base,
Or other like infernall furies kinde:
For of a Mayd she had the outward face,
To hide the horrour, which did lurke behinde,
The better to beguile, whom she so fond did finde.

Thereto the body of a dog she had, xxiv
Full of fell rauin and fierce greedinesse;
A Lions clawes, with powre and rigour clad,
To rend and teare, what so she can oppresse;
A Dragons taile, whose sting without redresse
Full deadly wounds, where so it is empight;
And[367] Eagles wings, for scope and speedinesse,
That nothing may escape her reaching might,
Whereto she euer list to make her hardy flight.

Much like in foulnesse and deformity xxv
Vnto that Monster, whom the Theban Knight,
The father of that fatall progeny,
Made kill her selfe for very hearts despight,
That he had red her Riddle, which no wight
Could euer loose, but suffred deadly doole.
So also did this Monster vse like slight
To many a one, which came vnto her schoole,
Whom she did put to death, deceiued like a foole.

She comming forth, when as she first beheld xxvi
The armed Prince, with shield so blazing bright,
Her ready to assaile, was greatly queld,
And much dismayd with that dismayfull sight,
That backe she would haue turnd for great affright.
But he gan her with courage fierce assay,
That forst her turne againe in her despight,
To saue her selfe, least that he did her slay:
And sure he had her slaine, had she not turnd her way.

Tho when she saw, that she was forst to fight, xxvii
She flew at him, like to an hellish feend,
And on his shield tooke hold with all her might,
As if that it she would in peeces rend,
Or reaue out of the hand, that did it hend.
Strongly he stroue out of her greedy gripe
To loose his shield, and long while did contend:
But when he could not quite it, with one stripe
Her Lions clawes he from her feete away did wipe.

With that aloude she gan to bray and yell, xxviii
And fowle blasphemous speaches forth did cast,
And bitter curses, horrible to tell,
That euen the Temple, wherein she was plast,
Did quake to heare, and nigh asunder brast.
Tho with her huge long taile she at him strooke,
That made him stagger, and stand halfe agast
With trembling ioynts, as he for terrour shooke;
Who nought was terrifide, but greater courage tooke.

As when the Mast of some well timbred hulke xxix
Is with the blast of some outragious storme
Blowne downe, it shakes the bottome of the bulke,
And makes her ribs to cracke, as they were torne,
Whilest still she stands as stonisht and forlorne:
So was he stound[368] with stroke of her huge taile.
But ere that it she backe againe had borne,
He with his sword it strooke, that without faile
He ioynted it, and mard the swinging of her flaile.

Then gan she cry much louder then afore, xxx
That all the people there without it heard,
And _Belge_ selfe was therewith stonied sore,
As if the onely sound thereof she feard.
But then the feend her selfe more fiercely reard
Vppon her wide great wings, and strongly flew
With all her body at his head and beard,
That had he not foreseene with heedfull vew,
And thrown his shield atween, she had him done to rew.

But as she prest on him with heauy sway, xxxi
Vnder her wombe his fatall sword he thrust,
And for her entrailes made an open way,
To issue forth; the which once being brust,
Like to a great Mill damb forth fiercely gusht,
And powred out of her infernall sinke
Most vgly filth, and poyson therewith rusht,
That him nigh choked with the deadly stinke:
Such loathly matter were small lust to speake, or thinke.

Then downe to ground fell that deformed Masse, xxxii
Breathing out clouds of sulphure fowle and blacke,
In which a puddle of contagion was,
More loathd then _Lerna_, or then _Stygian_ lake,
That any man would nigh awhaped make.
Whom when he saw on ground, he was full glad,
And streight went forth his gladnesse to partake
With _Belge_, who watcht all this while full sad,
Wayting what end would be of that same daunger drad.

Whom when she saw so ioyously come forth, xxxiii
She gan reioyce, and shew triumphant chere,
Lauding and praysing his renowmed worth,
By all the names that honorable were.
Then in he brought her, and her shewed there
The present of his paines, that Monsters spoyle,
And eke that Idoll deem’d so costly dere;
Whom he did all to peeces breake and foyle
In filthy durt, and left so in the loathely soyle.

Then all the people, which beheld that day, xxxiv
Gan shout aloud, that vnto heauen it rong;
And all the damzels of that towne in ray,
Came dauncing forth, and ioyous carrols song:
So him they led through all their streetes along,
Crowned with girlonds of immortall bales,
And all the vulgar did about them throng,
To see the man, whose euerlasting praise
They all were bound to all posterities to raise.

There he with _Belge_[369] did a while remaine, xxxv
Making great feast and ioyous merriment,
Vntill he had her settled in her raine,
With safe assuraunce and establishment.
Then to his first emprize his mind he lent,
Full loath to _Belge_, and to all the rest:
Of whom yet taking leaue, thenceforth he went
And to his former iourney him addrest,
On which long way he rode, ne euer day did rest.

But turne we now to noble _Artegall_, xxxvi
Who hauing left _Mercilla_, streight way went
On his first quest, the which him forth did call,
To weet to worke _Irenaes_ franchisement,
And eke _Grantortoes_ worthy punishment.
So forth he fared as his manner was,
With onely _Talus_ wayting diligent,
Through many perils and much way did pas,
Till nigh vnto the place at length approcht he has.

There as he traueld by the way, he met xxxvii
An aged wight, wayfaring all alone,
Who through his yeares long since aside had set
The vse of armes, and battell quite forgone:
To whom as he approcht, he knew anone,
That it was he which whilome did attend
On faire _Irene_ in her affliction,
When first to Faery court he saw her wend,
Vnto his soueraine Queene her suite for to commend.

Whom by his name saluting, thus he gan; xxxviii
Haile good Sir _Sergis_, truest Knight aliue,
Well tride in all thy Ladies troubles than,
When her that Tyrant did of Crowne depriue;
What new ocasion doth thee hither driue,
Whiles she alone is left, and thou here found?
Or is she thrall, or doth she not suruiue?
To whom he thus; She liueth sure and sound;
But by that Tyrant is in wretched thraldome bound.

For she presuming on th’appointed tyde, xxxix
In which ye promist, as ye were a Knight,
To meete her at the saluage Ilands syde,
And then and there for triall of her right
With her vnrighteous[370] enemy to fight,
Did thither come, where she afrayd of nought,
By guilefull treason and by subtill slight
Surprized was, and to _Grantorto_ brought,
Who her imprisond hath, and her life often sought.

And now he hath to her prefixt a day, xl
By which if that no champion doe appeare,
Which will her cause in battailous array
Against him iustifie, and proue her cleare
Of all those crimes, that he gainst her doth reare[371],
She death shall by[372]. Those tidings sad
Did much abash Sir _Artegall_ to heare,
And grieued sore, that through his fault she had
Fallen into that Tyrants hand and vsage bad.

Then thus replide; Now sure and by my life, xli
Too much am I to blame[373] for that faire Maide,
That haue her drawne to all this troublous strife,
Through promise to afford her timely aide,
Which by default I haue not yet defraide.
But witnesse vnto me, ye heauens, that know[374]
How cleare I am from blame of this vpbraide:
For ye into like thraldome me did throw,
And kept from complishing the faith, which I did owe.

But now aread, Sir _Sergis_, how long space, xlii
Hath he her lent, a Champion to prouide[375]?
Ten daies (quoth he) he graunted hath of grace,
For that he weeneth well, before that tide
None can haue tidings to assist her side.
For all the shores, which to the sea accoste,
He day and night doth ward both far and wide,
That none can there arriue without an hoste:
So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste.

Now turne againe (Sir _Artegall_ then sayd) xliii
For if I liue till those ten daies haue end,
Assure your selfe, Sir Knight, she shall haue ayd,
Though I this dearest life for her doe spend:
So backeward he attone with him did wend.
Tho as they rode together on their way,
A rout of people they before them kend,
Flocking together in confusde array,
As if that there were some tumultuous affray.

To which as they approcht, the cause to know, xliv
They saw a Knight in daungerous[376] distresse
Of a rude rout him chasing to and fro,
That sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse,
And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse:
And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,
They spide a Lady left all succourlesse,
Crying, and holding vp her wretched hands
To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage withstands.

Yet still he striues, ne any perill spares, xlv
To reskue her from their rude violence,
And like a Lion wood amongst them fares,
Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large dispence,
Gainst which the pallid death findes no defence.
But all in vaine, their numbers are so great,
That naught may boot to banishe them from thence:
For soone as he their outrage backe doth beat,
They turne afresh, and oft renew their former threat.

And now they doe so sharpely him assay, xlvi
That they his shield in peeces battred haue,
And forced him to throw it quite away,
Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to saue;
Albe that it most safety to him gaue,
And much did magnifie his noble name.
For from the day that he thus did it leaue,
Amongst all Knights he blotted was with blame,
And counted but a recreant Knight, with endles shame.

Whom when they thus distressed did behold, xlvii
They drew vnto his aide; but that rude rout
Them also gan assaile with outrage bold,
And forced them, how euer strong and stout
They were, as well approu’d in many a doubt,
Backe to recule; vntill that yron man
With his huge flaile began to lay about,
From whose sterne presence they diffused ran,
Like scattred chaffe, the which the wind away doth fan.

So when that Knight from perill cleare was freed, xlviii
He drawing neare, began to greete them faire,
And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed,
In sauing him from daungerous despaire
Of those, which sought his life for to empaire.
Of whom Sir _Artegall_ gan then enquire[377]
The whole occasion of his late misfare,
And who he was, and what those villaines were,
The which with mortall malice him pursu’d so nere.

To whom he thus; My name is _Burbon_ hight, xlix
Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,
Vntill late mischiefe did vppon me light,
That all my former praise hath blemisht sore;
And that faire Lady, which in that vprore
Ye with those caytiues saw, _Flourdelis_ hight,
Is mine owne loue, though me she haue forlore,
Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might,
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.

But sure to me her faith she first did plight, l
To be my loue, and take me for her Lord,
Till that a Tyrant, which _Grandtorto_ hight,
With golden giftes and many a guilefull word
Entyced her, to him for to accord.
O who may not with gifts and words be tempted?
Sith which she hath me euer since abhord,
And to my foe hath guilefully consented:
Ay me, that euer guyle in wemen was inuented.

And now he hath this[378] troupe of villains sent, li
By open force to fetch her quite away:
Gainst whom my selfe I long in vaine haue bent,
To rescue her, and daily meanes assay,
Yet rescue her thence by no meanes I may:
For they doe me with multitude oppresse,
And with vnequall might doe ouerlay,
That oft I driuen am to great distresse,
And forced to forgoe th’attempt remedilesse.

But why haue ye (said _Artegall_) forborne lii
Your owne good shield in daungerous dismay?
That is the greatest shame and foulest scorne,
Which vnto any knight behappen may
To loose the badge, that should his deedes display.
To whom Sir _Burbon_, blushing halfe for shame,
That shall I vnto you (quoth he) bewray;
Least ye therefore mote happily me blame,
And deeme it doen of will, that through inforcement came.

True is, that I at first was dubbed knight liii
By a good knight, the knight of the _Redcrosse_;
Who when he gaue me armes, in field to fight,
Gaue me a shield, in which he did endosse
His deare Redeemers badge vpon the bosse:
The same longwhile I bore, and therewithall
Fought many battels without wound or losse;
Therewith _Grandtorto_ selfe I did appall,
And made him oftentimes in field before me fall.

But for that many did that shield enuie, liv
And cruell enemies increased more;
To stint all strife and troublous enmitie,
That bloudie scutchin being battered sore,
I layd aside, and haue of late forbore,
Hoping thereby to haue my loue obtayned:
Yet can I not my loue haue nathemore;
For she by force is still fro me detayned,
And with corruptfull brybes is to vntruth mis-trayned.

To whom thus _Artegall_; Certes Sir knight, lv
Hard is the case, the which ye doe complaine;
Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light,
That it to such a streight mote you constraine)
As to abandon, that which doth containe
Your honours stile, that is your warlike shield.
All perill ought be lesse, and lesse all paine
Then losse of fame in disauentrous[379] field;
Dye rather, then doe ought, that mote dishonour yield.

Not so; (quoth he) for yet when time doth serue, lvi
My former shield I may resume againe:
To temporize is not from truth to swerue,
Ne for aduantage terme to entertaine,
When as necessitie doth it constraine.
Fie on such forgerie (said _Artegall_)
Vnder one hood to shadow faces twaine.
Knights ought be true, and truth is one in all:
Of all things to dissemble fouly may befall.

Yet let me you of courtesie request, lvii
(Said _Burbon_) to assist me now at need
Against these pesants, which haue me opprest,
And forced me to so infamous deed,
That yet my loue may from their hands be freed.
Sir _Artegall_, albe he earst did wyte
His wauering mind, yet to his aide agreed,
And buckling him eftsoones vnto the fight,
Did set vpon those troupes with all[380] his powre and might.

Who flocking round about them, as a swarme lviii
Of flyes vpon a birchen bough doth cluster,
Did them assault with terrible allarme,
And ouer all the fields themselues did muster,
With bils and glayues making a dreadfull luster;
That forst at first those knights backe to retyre:
As when the wrathfull _Boreas_ doth bluster,
Nought may abide the tempest of his yre,
Both man and beast doe fly, and succour doe inquyre.

But when as ouerblowen was that brunt, lix
Those knights began a fresh them to assayle,
And all about the fields like Squirrels hunt;
But chiefly _Talus_ with his yron flayle,
Gainst which no flight nor rescue mote auayle,
Made cruell hauocke of the baser crew,
And chaced them both ouer hill and dale:
The raskall manie soone they ouerthrew,
But the two knights themselues their captains did subdew.

At last they came whereas that Ladie bode, lx
Whom now her keepers had[381] forsaken quight,
To saue themselues, and scattered were abrode:
Her halfe dismayd they found in doubtfull plight,
As neither glad nor sorie for their sight;
Yet wondrous faire she was, and richly clad
In roiall robes, and many Iewels dight,
But that those villens through their vsage bad
Them fouly rent, and shamefully defaced had.

But _Burbon_ streight dismounting from his steed, lxi
Vnto her ran with greedie great desyre,
And catching her fast by her ragged weed,
Would haue embraced her with hart entyre.
But she backstarting with disdainefull yre,
Bad him auaunt, ne would vnto his lore
Allured be, for prayer nor for meed[382].
Whom when those knights so froward[383] and forlore
Beheld, they her rebuked and vpbrayded sore.

Sayd _Artegall_; What[384] foule disgrace is this, lxii
To so faire Ladie, as ye seeme in sight,
To blot your beautie, that vnblemisht is,
With so foule blame, as breach of faith once plight,
Or change of loue for any worlds delight?
Is ought on earth so pretious or deare,
As prayse and honour? Or is ought so bright
And beautifull, as glories beames appeare,
Whose goodly light then _Phebus_ lampe doth shine more cleare?

Why then will ye, fond Dame, attempted bee lxiii
Vnto a strangers loue so lightly placed,
For guiftes of gold, or any worldly glee,
To leaue the loue, that ye before embraced,
And let your fame with falshood be defaced[385]?
Fie on the pelfe, for which good name is sold,
And honour with indignitie debased:
Dearer is loue then life, and fame then gold;
But dearer then them both, your faith once plighted hold[386].

Much was the Ladie in her gentle mind lxiv
Abasht at his rebuke, that bit her neare,
Ne ought to answere thereunto did find;
But hanging downe her head with heauie cheare,
Stood long amaz’d, as she amated weare.
Which _Burbon_ seeing, her againe assayd,
And clasping twixt his armes, her vp did reare
Vpon his steede, whiles she no whit gainesayd,
So bore her quite away, nor well nor ill apayd.

Nathlesse the yron man did still pursew lxv
That raskall many with vnpittied spoyle,
Ne ceassed not, till all their scattred crew
Into the sea he droue quite from that soyle,
The which they troubled had with great turmoyle.
But _Artegall_ seeing his cruell deed,
Commaunded him from slaughter to recoyle,
And to his voyage gan againe proceed:
For that the terme approching fast, required speed.

FOOTNOTES:

[362] xiii 9 through _1609_

[363] xiv 9 doole _1609_

[364] xvi 2 sight; _1596_

[365] xviii 7 vile _1609 passim_

[366] xxi 1 yearne _1609_

[367] xxiv 7 And] An _1609_

[368] xxix 6 stonn’d _1609_

[369] xxxv 1, 6 _Belge_] _Belgæ_ _1596_, _1609_

[370] xxxix 5 vnrigteous _1596_

[371] xl 5 reare _1596_

[372] 6 She death shall sure aby _1611_

[373] xli 2 too blame _1596_, _1609_: _corr. 1679_

[374] 6 know] knew _1596_, _1609_: _corr. Upton_

[375] xlii 2 prouide: _1596_, _1609_

[376] xliv 2 dangerous _1609_

[377] xlviii 6 enquere _1609_

[378] li 1 this] his _1609_

[379] lv 8 disaduentrous _1609_

[380] lvii 9 withall _1596_

[381] lx 2 had] haue _1609_

[382] lxi 7 meed] hyre _conj. Church_. _But cf._ II ii 7, _&c._

[383] 8 forward _1596_

[384] lxii 1 what _1596_

[385] lxiii 5 defaced. _1596_

[386] 9 hold; _1596_

_Cant. XII._

_Artegall doth Sir Burbon aide,
And blames for changing shield:
He with the great Grantorto fights,
And slaieth him in field._
]

O Sacred hunger of ambitious mindes, i
And impotent desire of men to raine,
Whom neither dread of God, that deuils bindes,
Nor lawes of men, that common weales containe,
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine,
Can keepe from outrage, and from doing wrong,
Where they may hope a kingdome to obtaine.
No faith so firme, no trust can be so strong,
No loue so lasting then, that may enduren[387] long.

Witnesse may _Burbon_ be, whom all the bands, ii
Which may a Knight assure, had surely bound,
Vntill the loue of Lordship and of lands
Made him become most faithlesse and vnsound:
And witnesse be _Gerioneo_ found,
Who for like cause faire _Belge_ did oppresse,
And right and wrong most cruelly confound:
And so be now _Grantorto_, who no lesse
Then all the rest burst out to all outragiousnesse.

Gainst whom Sir _Artegall_, long hauing since iii
Taken in hand th’exploit, being theretoo
Appointed by that mightie Faerie Prince,
Great _Gloriane_, that Tyrant to fordoo,
Through other great aduentures hethertoo
Had it forslackt. But now time drawing ny,
To him assynd, her high beheast to doo,
To the sea shore he gan his way apply,
To weete if shipping readie he mote there descry.

Tho when they came to the sea coast, they found iv
A ship all readie (as good fortune fell)
To put to sea, with whom they did compound,
To passe them ouer, where them list to tell:
The winde and weather serued them so well,
That in one day they with the coast did fall;
Whereas they readie found them to repell,
Great hostes of men in order martiall,
Which them forbad to land, and footing did forstall.

But nathemore would they from land refraine, v
But when as nigh vnto the shore they drew,
That foot of man might sound the bottome plaine,
_Talus_ into the sea did forth issew,
Though darts from shore and stones they at him threw;
And wading through the waues with stedfast sway,
Maugre the might of all those troupes in vew,
Did win the shore, whence he them chast away,
And made to fly, like doues, whom the Eagle[388] doth affray.

The whyles Sir _Artegall_, with that old knight vi
Did forth descend, there being none them neare,
And forward marched to a towne in sight.
By this came tydings to the Tyrants eare,
By those, which earst did fly away for feare
Of their arriuall: wherewith troubled sore,
He all his forces streight to him did reare,
And forth issuing with his scouts afore,
Meant them to haue incountred, ere they left the shore.

But ere he marched farre, he with them met, vii
And fiercely charged them with all his force;
But _Talus_ sternely did vpon them set,
And brusht, and battred them without remorse,
That on the ground he left full many a corse;
Ne any able was him to withstand,
But he them ouerthrew both man and horse,
That they lay scattred ouer all the land,
As thicke as doth the seede after the sowers hand.

Till _Artegall_ him seeing so to rage, viii
Willd him to stay, and signe of truce did make:
To which all harkning, did a while asswage
Their forces furie, and their terror slake;
Till he an Herauld cald, and to him spake,
Willing him wend vnto the Tyrant streight,
And tell him that not for such slaughters sake
He thether came, but for to trie the right
Of fayre _Irenaes_ cause with him in single fight.

And willed him for to reclayme with speed ix
His scattred people, ere they all were slaine,
And time and place conuenient to areed,
In which they two the combat might darraine.
Which message when _Grantorto_ heard, full fayne
And glad he was the slaughter so to stay,
And pointed for the combat twixt them twayne
The morrow next, ne gaue him longer day.
So sounded the retraite, and drew his folke away.

That night Sir _Artegall_ did cause his tent x
There to be pitched on the open plaine;
For he had giuen streight commaundement,
That none should dare him once to entertaine:
Which none durst breake, though many would right faine
For fayre _Irena_, whom they loued deare.
But yet old _Sergis_ did so well him paine,
That from close friends, that dar’d not to appeare,
He all things did puruay, which for them needfull weare.

The morrow next, that was the dismall day, xi
Appointed for _Irenas_ death before,
So soone as it did to the world display
His chearefull face, and light to men restore,
The heauy Mayd, to whom none tydings bore
Of _Artegalls_[389] arryuall, her to free,
Lookt vp with eyes full sad and hart full sore;
Weening her lifes last howre then neare to bee,
Sith no redemption nigh she did nor heare nor see.

Then vp she rose, and on her selfe did dight xii
Most squalid garments, fit for such a day,
And with dull countenance, and with doleful spright,
She forth was brought in sorrowfull dismay,
For to receiue the doome of her decay.
But comming to the place, and finding there
Sir _Artegall_, in battailous array
Wayting his foe, it did her dead hart cheare,
And new life to her lent, in midst of deadly feare.

Like as a tender Rose in open plaine, xiii
That with vntimely drought nigh withered was,
And hung the head, soone as few drops of raine
Thereon distill, and deaw her daintie face,
Gins to looke vp, and with fresh wonted grace
Dispreds the glorie of her leaues gay;
Such was _Irenas_ countenance, such her case,
When _Artegall_ she saw in that array,
There wayting for the Tyrant, till it was farre day.

Who came at length, with proud presumpteous[390] gate, xiv
Into the field, as if he fearelesse were,
All armed in a cote of yron plate,
Of great defence to ward the deadly feare,
And on his head a steele cap he did weare
Of colour rustie browne, but sure and strong;
And in his hand an huge Polaxe did beare,
Whose steale[391] was yron studded, but not long,
With which he wont to fight, to iustifie his wrong.

Of stature huge and hideous he was, xv
Like to a Giant for his monstrous hight,
And did in strength most sorts of men surpas,
Ne euer any found his match in might;
Thereto he had great skill in single fight:
His face was vgly, and his countenance sterne,
That could haue frayd one with the very sight,
And gaped like a gulfe, when he did gerne,
That whether man or monster one could scarse discerne.

Soone as he did within the listes appeare, xvi
With dreadfull looke he _Artegall_ beheld,
As if he would haue daunted him with feare,
And grinning griesly, did against him weld
His deadly weapon, which in hand he held.
But th’Elfin swayne, that oft had seene like sight,
Was with his ghastly count’nance nothing queld,
But gan him streight to buckle to the fight,
And cast his shield about, to be in readie plight.

The trompets sound, and they together goe, xvii
With dreadfull terror, and with fell intent;
And their huge strokes full daungerously bestow,
To doe most dammage, where as most they ment.
But with such[392] force and furie violent,
The tyrant thundred his thicke blowes so fast,
That through the yron walles their way they rent,
And euen to the vitall parts they past,
Ne ought could them endure, but all they cleft or brast.

Which cruell outrage when as _Artegall_ xviii
Did well auize, thenceforth with warie heed
He shund his strokes, where euer they did fall,
And way did giue vnto their gracelesse speed:
As when a skilfull Marriner doth reed
A storme approching, that doth perill threat,
He will not bide the daunger of such dread.
But strikes his sayles, and vereth his mainsheat,
And lends vnto it leaue the emptie ayre to beat.

So did the Faerie knight himselfe abeare, xix
And stouped oft his head from shame to shield;
No shame to stoupe, ones head more high to reare,
And much to gaine, a litle for to yield;
So stoutest knights doen oftentimes in field.
But still the tyrant sternely at him layd,
And did his yron axe so nimbly wield,
That many wounds into his flesh it made,
And with his burdenous blowes him sore did ouerlade.

Yet when as fit aduantage he did spy, xx
The whiles the cursed felon high did reare
His cruell hand, to smite him mortally,
Vnder his stroke he to him stepping neare,
Right in the flanke him strooke with deadly dreare,
That the gore bloud thence gushing grieuously,
Did vnderneath him like a pond appeare,
And all his armour did with purple dye;
Thereat he brayed loud, and yelled dreadfully.

Yet the huge stroke, which he before intended, xxi
Kept on his course, as he did it direct,
And with such monstrous poise adowne descended,
That seemed nought could him from death protect:
But he it well did ward with wise respect,
And twixt him and the blow his shield did cast,
Which thereon seizing, tooke no great effect,
But byting deepe therein did sticke so fast,
That by no meanes it backe againe he forth could wrast.

Long while he tug’d and stroue, to get it out, xxii
And all his powre applyed thereunto,
That he therewith the knight drew all about:
Nathlesse, for all that euer he could doe,
His axe he could not from his shield vndoe.
Which _Artegall_ perceiuing, strooke no more,
But loosing soone his shield, did it forgoe,
And whiles he combred was therewith so sore,
He gan at him let driue more fiercely then afore.

So well he him pursew’d, that at the last, xxiii
He stroke[393] him with _Chrysaor_ on the hed,
That with the souse thereof full sore aghast,
He staggered to and fro in doubtfull sted.
Againe whiles he him saw so ill bested,
He did him smite with all his might and maine,
That falling on his mother earth he fed:
Whom when he saw prostrated on the plaine,
He lightly reft his head, to ease him of his paine.

Which when the people round about him saw, xxiv
They shouted all for ioy of his successe,
Glad to be quit from that proud Tyrants awe,
Which with strong powre did them long time oppresse;
And running all with greedie ioyfulnesse
To faire _Irena_, at her feet did fall,
And her adored with due humblenesse,
As their true Liege and Princesse naturall;
And eke her champions glorie sounded ouer all.

Who streight her leading with meete maiestie xxv
Vnto the pallace, where their kings did rayne,
Did her therein establish peaceablie,
And to her kingdomes seat restore agayne;
And all such persons, as did late maintayne
That Tyrants part, with close or open ayde,
He sorely punished with heauie payne;
That in short space, whiles there with her he stayd,
Not one was left, that durst her once haue disobayd.

During which time, that he did there remaine, xxvi
His studie was true Iustice how to deale,
And day and night employ’d his busie paine
How to reforme that ragged common-weale:
And that same yron man which could reueale
All hidden crimes, through all that realme he sent,
To search out those, that vsd to rob and steale,
Or did rebell gainst lawfull gouernment;
On whom he did inflict most grieuous punishment.

But ere he could reforme it thoroughly, xxvii
He through occasion called was away,
To Faerie Court, that of necessity
His course of Iustice he was forst to stay,
And _Talus_ to reuoke from the right way,
In which he was that Realme for to redresse.
But enuies cloud still dimmeth vertues ray.
So hauing freed _Irena_ from distresse,
He tooke his leaue of her, there left in heauinesse.

Tho as he backe returned from that land, xxviii
And there arriu’d againe, whence forth he set,
He had not passed farre vpon the strand,
When as two old ill fauour’d Hags he met,
By the way side being together set,
Two griesly creatures; and, to that their faces
Most foule and filthie were, their garments yet
Being all rag’d and tatter’d, their disgraces
Did much the more augment, and made most vgly cases.

The one of them, that elder did appeare, xxix
With her dull eyes did seeme to looke askew,
That her mis-shape much helpt; and her foule heare
Hung loose and loathsomely: Thereto her hew
Was wan and leane, that all her teeth arew,
And all her bones might through her cheekes be red;
Her lips were like raw lether, pale and blew,
And as she spake, therewith she slauered;
Yet spake she seldom, but thought more, the lesse she sed.

Her hands were foule and durtie, neuer washt xxx
In all her life, with long nayles ouer raught,
Like puttocks clawes: with th’one of which she scracht
Her cursed head, although it itched naught;
The other held a snake with venime fraught,
On which she fed, and gnawed hungrily[394],
As if that long she had not eaten ought;
That round about her iawes one might descry
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping lothsomely.

Her name was _Enuie_, knowen well thereby; xxxi
Whose nature is to grieue, and grudge at all,
That euer she sees doen prays-worthily,
Whose sight to her is greatest crosse, may fall,
And vexeth so, that makes her eat her gall.
For when she wanteth other thing to eat,
She feedes on her owne maw vnnaturall,
And of her owne foule entrayles makes her meat;
Meat fit for such a monsters monsterous dyeat.

And if she hapt of any good to heare, xxxii
That had to any happily betid,
Then would she inly fret, and grieue, and teare
Her flesh for felnesse, which she inward hid:
But if she heard of ill, that any did,
Or harme, that any had, then would she make
Great cheare, like one vnto a banquet bid;
And in anothers losse great pleasure take,
As she had got thereby, and gayned a great stake.

The other nothing better was, then shee; xxxiii
Agreeing in bad will and cancred kynd,
But in bad maner they did disagree:
For what so _Enuie_ good or bad did fynd,
She did conceale, and murder her owne mynd;
But this, what euer euill she conceiued,
Did spred abroad, and throw in th’open wynd.
Yet this in all her words might be perceiued,
That all she sought, was mens good name to haue bereaued.

For what soeuer good by any sayd, xxxiv
Or doen she heard, she would streightwayes inuent,
How to depraue, or slaunderously[395] vpbrayd,
Or to misconstrue of a mans intent,
And turne to ill the thing, that well was ment.
Therefore she vsed often to resort,
To common haunts, and companies frequent,
To hearke what any one did good report,
To blot the same with blame, or wrest in wicked sort.

And if that any ill she heard of any, xxxv
She would it eeke, and make much worse by telling,
And take great ioy to publish it to many,
That euery matter worse was for her melling.
Her name was hight _Detraction_, and her dwelling
Was neare to _Enuie_, euen her neighbour next;
A wicked hag, and _Enuy_ selfe excelling
In mischiefe: for her selfe she onely vext;
But this same both her selfe, and others eke perplext.

Her face was vgly, and her mouth distort, xxxvi
Foming with poyson round about her gils,
In which her cursed tongue full sharpe and short
Appear’d like Aspis sting, that closely kils,
Or cruelly does wound, whom so she wils:
A distaffe in her other hand she had,
Vpon the which she litle spinnes, but spils,
And faynes to weaue false tales and leasings bad,
To throw amongst the good, which others had disprad.

These two now had themselues combynd in one, xxxvii
And linckt together gainst Sir _Artegall_,
For whom they wayted as his mortall fone,
How they might make him into mischiefe fall,
For freeing from their snares _Irena_ thrall,
Besides vnto themselues they gotten had
A monster, which the _Blatant beast_ men call,
A dreadfull feend of gods and men ydrad,
Whom they by slights allur’d, and to their purpose lad.

Such were these Hags, and so vnhandsome drest: xxxviii
Who when they nigh approching, had espyde
Sir _Artegall_ return’d from his late quest,
They both arose, and at him loudly cryde,
As it had bene two shepheards curres, had scryde
A rauenous Wolfe amongst the scattered flockes.
And _Enuie_ first, as she that first him eyde,
Towardes him runs, and with rude flaring lockes
About her eares, does beat her brest, and forhead knockes.

Then from her mouth the gobbet she does take, xxxix
The which whyleare she was so greedily
Deuouring, euen that halfe-gnawen snake,
And at him throwes it most despightfully.
The cursed Serpent, though she hungrily
Earst chawd thereon, yet was not all so dead,
But that some life remayned secretly,
And as he past afore withouten dread,
Bit him behind, that long the marke was to be read.

Then th’other comming neare, gan him reuile, xl
And fouly rayle, with all she could inuent;
Saying, that he had with vnmanly guile,
And foule abusion both his honour blent,
And that bright sword, the sword of Iustice lent,[396]
Had stayned with reprochfull crueltie,
In guiltlesse blood of many an innocent:
As for _Grandtorto_, him with treacherie
And traynes hauing surpriz’d, he fouly did to die.

Thereto the Blatant beast by them set on xli
At him began aloud to barke and bay,
With bitter rage and fell contention,
That all the woods and rockes nigh to that way,
Began to quake and tremble with dismay;
And all the aire rebellowed againe.
So dreadfully his hundred tongues did bray,
And euermore those hags them selues did paine,
To sharpen him, and their owne cursed tongs did straine.

And still among most bitter wordes they spake, xlii
Most shamefull, most vnrighteous, most vntrew,
That they the mildest man aliue would make
Forget his patience, and yeeld vengeaunce dew
To her, that so false sclaunders[397] at him threw.
And more to make them pierce and wound more deepe,
She with the sting, which in her vile tongue grew,
Did sharpen them, and in fresh poyson steepe:
Yet he past on, and seem’d of them to take no keepe.

But _Talus_ hearing her so lewdly raile, xliii
And speake so ill of him, that well deserued,
Would her haue chastiz’d with his yron flaile,
If her Sir _Artegall_ had not preserued,
And him forbidden, who his heast obserued.
So much the more at him still did she scold,
And stones did cast, yet he for nought would swerue
From his right course, but still the way did hold
To Faery Court, where what him fell shall else be told.

FOOTNOTES:

[387] i 9 enduren] endure _1596_

[388] v 9 th’Eagle _1609_

[389] xi 6 _Artegals_ _1596_

[390] xiv 1 presumptuous _1609 passim_

[391] 8 steele _1609_

[392] xvii 5 such] sure _1609_

[393] xxiii 2 strooke _1609_

[394] xxx 6 hungerly _1609_

[395] xxxiv 3 slanderously _1609_

[396] xl 5 And that bright sword the sword, of Iustice lent _1596_

[397] xlii 5 slaunders _1609_

THE SIXTE
BOOKE OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.

_Contayning_

THE LEGEND OF S. CALIDORE

_OR_

OF COVRTESIE.

The waies, through which my weary steps I guyde, i
this delightfull land of Faery,
Are so exceeding spacious and wyde,
And sprinckled with such sweet variety,
Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye,
That I nigh rauisht with rare thoughts delight,
My tedious trauell doe forget thereby;
And when I gin to feele decay of might,
It[398] strength to me supplies, and chears my dulled spright.

Such secret comfort, and such heauenly pleasures, ii
Ye sacred imps, that on _Parnasso_ dwell,
And there the keeping haue of learnings threasures,
Which doe all worldly riches farre excell,
Into the mindes of mortall men doe well,
And goodly fury into them infuse;
Guyde ye my footing, and conduct me well
In these strange waies, where neuer foote did vse,
Ne none can find, but who was taught them by the Muse.

Reuele to me the sacred noursery iii
Of vertue, which with you doth there remaine,
Where it in siluer bowre does hidden ly
From view of men, and wicked worlds disdaine.
Since[399] it at first was by the Gods with paine
Planted in earth, being deriv’d at furst
From heauenly seedes of bounty soueraine,
And by them long with carefull labour nurst,
Till it to ripenesse grew, and forth to honour burst.

Amongst them all growes not a fayrer flowre, iv
Then is the bloosme of comely courtesie,
Which though it on a lowly stalke doe bowre,
Yet brancheth forth in braue nobilitie,
And spreds it selfe through all ciuilitie:
Of which though present age doe plenteous seeme,
Yet being matcht with plaine Antiquitie,
Ye will them all but fayned showes esteeme,
Which carry colours faire, that feeble eies misdeeme.