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CANTO VII.

There now he lives in everlasting ioy,
With many of the gods in company
Which thether haunt, and with the winged boy,
Sporting himselfe in safe felicity:

Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty
Ransackt the world, and in the wofull harts
Of many wretches set his triumphes hye,
Thether resortes, and, laying his sad dartes

The witches sonne loves Florimell:
She flyes; he faines to dy.
Satyraue saves the Squyre of Dames
From gyaunts tyranny.

Asyde, with faire Adonis playes his wanton partes. LIKE as an hynd forth singled from the heard,

And his trew love, faire Psyche, with him playes;
Fayre Psyche, to him lately reconcyld,
After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes,
With which his mother Venus her revyld,
And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld:
But now in stedfast love and happy state

She with him lives, and hath him borne a chyld,
Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate,
Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Psyche late.

Hether great Venus brought this infant fayre,
The yonger daughter of Chrysogonee,
And unto Psyche with great trust and care
Committed her, yfostered to bee
And trained up in trew feminitee:
Who no lesse carefully her tendered

Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to whom shee
Made her companion, and her lessoned
In all the lore of love and goodly womanhead.

In which when she to perfect ripenes grew,
Of grace and beautie noble paragone,
She brought her forth into the worldës vew,
To be th' ensample of true love alone,
And lodestarre of all chaste affectione
To all fayre ladies that doe live on grownd.
To Faery court she came; where many one
Admyrd her goodly haveour, and fownd
His feeble hart wide launched with loves cruel
wownd.

But she to none of them her love did cast,
Save to the noble knight, sir Scudamore,
To whom her loving hart she linked fast
In faithfull love, t' abide for evermore;
And for his dearest sake endured sore,
Sore trouble of an hainous enimy,
Who her would forced have to have forlore
Her former love and stedfast loialty;

As ye may elswhere reade that ruefull history.

But well I weene ye first desire to learne
What end unto that fearefull damozell,
Which fledd so fast from that same foster stearne
Whom with his brethren Timias slew, befell:
That was, to weet, the goodly Florimell;
Who wandring for to seeke her lover deare,
Her lover deare, her dearest Marinell,
Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare,

That hath escaped from a ravenous beast,
Yet flyes away of her owne feete afeard;
And every leafe, that shaketh with the least
Murmure of winde, her terror hath encreast:
So fledd fayre Florimell from her vaine feare,
Long after she from perill was releast:

Each shade she saw, and each noyse she did heare,
Did seeme to be the same which she escapt whileare.

All that same evening she in flying spent,
And all that night her course continewed:
Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent
Nor wearinesse to slack her hast, but fled
Ever alike, as if her former dred
Were hard behind, her ready to arrest:
And her white palfrey, having conquered
The maistring raines out of her weary wrest,
Perforce her carried where ever he thought best.

So long as breath and hable puissaunce
Did native corage unto him supply,
His pace he freshly forward did advaunce,
And carried her beyond all ieopardy;
But nought that wanteth rest can long aby:
He, having through incessant traveill spent
His force, at last perforce adowne did ly,
Ne foot could further move: the lady gent
Thereat was suddein strook with great astonishment;

And, forst t' alight, on foot mote algates fare
A traveiler unwonted to such way;
Need teacheth her this lesson hard and rare,
That Fortune all in equall launce doth sway,
And mortall miseries doth make her play.
So long she traveild, till at length she came
To an hilles side, which did to her bewray
A litle valley subiect to the same,

All coverd with thick woodes that quite it over

came.

Through th' tops of the high trees she did descry
A litle smoke, whose vapour thin and light
Reeking aloft uprolled to the sky:
Which chearefull signe did send unto her sight
That in the same did wonne some living wight.
Eftsoones her steps she thereunto applyd,
And came at last in weary wretched plight
Unto the place, to which her hope did guyde
To finde some refuge there, and rest her wearie
syde.

And from prince Arthure fled with wings of idle There in a gloomy hollow glen she found

feare.

A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes
In homely wize, and wald with sods around;
In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes
And wilfull want, all carelesse of her needes;
So choosing solitarie to abide

Far from all neighbours, that her divelish deedes
And hellish arts from people she might hide,
And hurt far off unknowne whomever she envíde.

The damzell there arriving entred in;
Where sitting on the flore the hag she found
Busie (as seem'd) about some wicked gin:
Who, soone as she beheld that sudden stound,
Lightly upstarted from the dustie ground,
And with fell looke and hollow deadly gaze
Stared on her awhile, as one astound,

Ne had one word to speake for great amaze;
But shewd by outward signes that dread her sence
did daze.

At last, turning her feare to foolish wrath,
She askt, What devill had her thether brought,
And who she was, and what unwonted path
Had guided her, unwelcomed, unsought?
To which the damzell full of doubtfull thought
Her mildly answer'd; "Beldame, be not wroth
With silly virgin, by adventure brought
Unto your dwelling, ignorant and loth, [blo'th."
That crave but rowme to rest while tempest over-

With that adowne out of her christall eyne
Few trickling teares she softly forth let fall,
That like two orient perles did purely shyne
Upon her snowy cheeke; and therewithall
She sighed soft, that none so bestiall
Nor salvage hart but ruth of her sad plight
Would make to melt, or pitteously appall;
And that vile hag, all were her whole delight
In mischiefe, was much moved at so pitteous sight;

And gan recomfort her, in her rude wyse,
With womanish compassion of her plaint,
Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes,
And bidding her sit downe to rest her faint
And wearie limbs awhile: she nothing quaint
Nor 'sdeignfull of so homely fashion,
Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint,
Sate downe upon the dusty ground anon;

As glad of that small rest, as bird of tempest gon.

Tho gan she gather up her garments rent,
And her loose lockes to dight in order dew
With golden wreath and gorgeous ornament;
Whom such whenas the wicked hag did vew,
She was astonisht at her heavenly hew,
And doubted her to deeme an earthly wight,
But or some goddesse, or of Dianes crew,
And thought her to adore with humble spright:
T'adore thing so divine as beauty were but right.

This wicked woman had a wicked sonne,
The comfort of her age and weary dayes,
A laesy loord, for nothing good to donne,
But stretched forth in ydlenesse alwayes,
Ne ever cast his mind to covet prayse,
Or ply himselfe to any honest trade;
But all the day before the sunny rayes
He us'd to slug, or sleepe in slothfull shade:
Such laesinesse both lewd and poore attonce him
made.

He, comming home at undertime, there found
The fayrest creature that he ever saw
Sitting beside his mother on the ground;
The sight whereof did greatly him adaw,
And his base thought with terrour and with aw
So inly smot, that as one, which hath gaz'd
On the bright Sunne unwares, doth soone withdraw
His feeble eyne with too much brightnes daz'd;
So stared he on her, and stood long while amaz'd.

Softly at last he gan his mother aske,
What mister wight that was, and whence deriv'd,
That in so straunge disguizement there did maske,
And by what accident she there arriv'd?
But she, as one nigh of her wits depriv'd,
With nought but ghastly lookes him answered;
Like to a ghost, that lately is reviv'd
From Stygian shores where late it wandered:
So both at her, and each at other wondered.

But the fayre virgin was so meeke and myld,
That she to them vouchsafed to embace
Her goodly port, and to their senses vyld
Her gentle speach applyde, that in short space
She grew familiare in that desert place.
During which time the chorle, through her so kind
And courteise use, conceiv'd affection bace,
And cast to love her in his brutish mind;
No love, but brutish lust, that was so beastly tind.

Closely the wicked flame his bowels brent,
And shortly grew into outrageous fire;
Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment,
As unto her to utter his desire;

His caytive thought durst not so high aspire:
But with soft sighes and lovely semblaunces
He ween'd that his affection entire

She should aread; many resemblaunces

To her he made, and many kinde remembraunces.

Oft from the forrest wildings he did bring,
Whose sides empurpled were with smyling red;
And oft young birds, which he had taught to sing
His maistresse praises sweetly caroled:
Girlonds of flowres sometimes for her faire hed
He fine would dight; sometimes the squirrel wild
He brought to her in bands, as conquered
To be her thrall, his fellow-servant vild:

All which she of him tooke with countenance meeke and mild.

But, past a while, when she fit season saw
To leave that desert mansion, she cast

In secret wize herselfe thence to withdraw,
For feare of mischiefe, which she did forecast
Might by the witch or by her sonne compast:
Her weare palfrey, closely as she might,
Now well recovered after long repast,

In his proud furnitures she freshly dight,

His late miswandred wayes now to remeasure right.

And earely, ere the dawning day appear'd,
She forth issewed, and on her journey went;
She went in perill, of each noyse affeard,
And of each shade that did itselfe present;
For still she feared to be overhent
Of that vile hag, or her uncivile sonne';
Who when, too late awaking, well they kent
That their fayre guest was gone, they both begonne
To make exceeding mone as they had beene undonne.

But that lewd lover did the most lament
For her depart, that ever man did heare;
He knockt his brest with desperate intent,
And scratcht his face, and with his teeth did teare
His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged heare:
That his sad mother seeing his sore plight
Was greatly woe-begon, and gan to feare
Least his fraile senses were emperisht quight,
And love to frenzy turnd; sith love is franticke hight.

All wayes shee sought him to restore to plight, With herbs, with charms, with counsell, and with teares;

But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor counsell, might
Asswage the fury which his entrails teares:
So strong is passion that no reason heares!
Tho, when all other helpes she saw to faile,
She turnd herselfe backe to her wicked leares;
And by her divelish arts thought to prevaile
To bring her backe againe, or worke her finall bale.

Eftsoones out of her hidden cave she cald
An hideous beast of horrible aspect,
That could the stoutest corage have appald;
Monstrous, mishapt, and all his backe was spect
With thousand spots of colours queint elect;
Thereto so swifte that it all beasts did pas:
Like never yet did living eie detect;
But likest it to an hyena was

That feeds on wemens flesh, as others feede on gras.

It forth she cald, and gave it streight in charge
Through thicke and thin her to poursew apace,
Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at large,
Till her hee had attaind and brought in place,
Or quite devourd her beauties scornefull grace.
The monster, swifte as word that from her went,
Went forth in haste, and did her footing trace
So sure and swiftly, through his perfect sent
And passing speede, that shortly he her overhent.

Whom when the fearefull damzell nigh espide,
No need to bid her fast away to flie;
That ugly shape so sore her terrifide,
That it she shund no lesse then dread to die;
And her flitt palfrey did so well apply
His nimble feet to her conceived feare,

That whilest his breath did strength to him supply,
From perill free he her away did beare;
But, when his force gan faile, his pace gan wex areare.

Which whenas she perceiv'd, she was dismayd
At that same last extremity ful sore,
And of her safety greatly grew afrayd:
And now she gan approch to the sea shore,
As it befell, that she could flie no more,
But yield herselfe to spoile of greedinesse :
Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore,
From her dull horse, in desperate distresse,
And to her feet betooke her doubtfull sickernesse.

Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha fled
From dread of her revenging fathers hond;
Nor halfe so fast to save her maydenhed
Fled fearefull Daphne on th' Ægæan strond;
As Florimell fled from that monster yond,
To reach the sea ere she of him were raught:
For in the sea to drowne herselfe she fond,
Rather then of the tyrant to be caught: [taught.
Thereto fear gave her wings, and need her corage

It fortuned (High God did so ordaine)
As shee arrived on the roving shore,
In minde to leape into the mighty maine,
A little bote lay hoving her before,
In which there slept a fisher old and pore,
The whiles his nets were drying on the sand:
Into the same shee lept, and with the ore
Did thrust the shallop from the floting strand :
So safety fownd at sea, which she fownd not at land.

The monster, ready on the pray to sease, Was of his forward hope deceived quight; Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas, | But, greedily long gaping at the sight, At last in vaine was forst to turne his flight, And tell the idle tidings to his dame: Yet, to avenge his divelish despight, He set upon her palfrey tired lame, And slew him cruelly ere any reskew came:

And, after having him embowelled

To fill his hellish gorge, it chaunst a knight
To passe that way, as forth he traveiled:
Yt was a goodly swaine, and of great might,
As ever man that bloody field did fight;

But in vain sheows, that wont yong knights bewitch,
And courtly services, tooke no delight;
But rather ioyd to bee than seemen sich:
For both to be and seeme to him was labor lich.

It was to weete the good sir Satyrane
That raungd abrode to seeke adventures wilde,
As was his wont, in forest and in plaine :
He was all armd in rugged steele unfilde,
As in the smoky forge it was compilde,
And in his scutchin bore a satyres hedd:
He comming present, where the monster vilde
Upon that milke-white palfreyes carcas fedd,
Unto his reskew ran, and greedily him spedd.

There well perceivd he that it was the horse
Whereon faire Florimell was wont to ride,
That of that feend was rent without remorse :
Much feared he least ought did ill betide
To that faire maide, the flowre of wemens pride;
For her he dearely loved, and in all
His famous conquests highly magnifide:
Besides, her golden girdle, which did fall
From her in flight, he fownd, that did him sore apall.

Full of sad feare and doubtfull agony
Fiercely he flew upon that wicked feend;
And with huge strokes and cruell battery
Him forst to leave his pray, for to attend
Himselfe from deadly daunger to-defend:
Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh
He did eugrave, and muchell blood did spend,
Yet might not doe him die; but aie more fresh
And fierce he still appeard, the more he did him
thresh.

He wist not how him to despoile of life,
Ne how to win the wished victory,
Sith him he saw still stronger grow through strife,
And himselfe weaker through infirmity:
Greatly he grew enrag'd, and furiously
Hurling his sword away he lightly lept
Upon the beast, that with great cruelty
Rored and raged to be underkept;
Yet he perforce him held, and strokes upon him hept.

As he that strives to stop a suddein flood,
And in strong bancks his violence enclose,
Forceth it swell above his wonted mood,
And largely overflow the fruitfull plaine,
That all the countrey seemes to be a maine,
And the rich furrowes flote, all quite fordonne :
The wofull husbandman doth lowd complaine
To see his whole yeares labor lost so soone,
For which to God he made so many an idle boone,

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Thus as he led the beast along the way,
He spide far off a mighty giauntesse
Fast flying, on a courser dapled gray,
From a bold knight that with great hardinesse
Her hard pursewd, and sought for to suppresse :
She bore before her lap a dolefull squire,
Lying athwart her horse in great distresse,
Fast bounden hand and foote with cords of wire,
Whom she did meane to make the thrall of her
desire.

Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in haste
He lefte his captive beast at liberty,
And crost the nearest way, by which he cast
Her to encounter ere she passed by;
But she the way shund nathëmore forthy,
But forward gallopt fast; which when he spyde,
His mighty speare he couched warily,
And at her ran; she, having him descryde,
Herselfe to fight addrest, and threw her lode aside.

Like as a goshauke, that in foote doth beare
A trembling culver, having spide on hight
An eagle that with plumy wings doth sheare
The subtile ayre stouping with all his might,
The quarrey throwes to ground with fell despight,
And to the batteill doth herselfe prepare:
So ran the geauntesse unto the fight;
Her fyrie eyes with furious sparkes did stare,
And with blasphemous bannes High God in peeces

tare.

She caught in hand an huge great yron mace,
Wherewith she many had of life depriv'd;
But, ere the stroke could seize his aymed place,
His speare amids her sun-brode shield arriv'd;
Yet nathëmore the steele asonder riv'd,
All were the beame in bignes like a mast,
Ne her out of the stedfast sadle driv'd;
But, glauncing on the tempred metall, brast
In thousand shivers, and so forth beside her past.
Her steed did stagger with that puissaunt strooke;
But she no more was moved with that might
Then it had lighted on an aged oke,
Or on the marble pillour that is pight
Upon the top of mount Olympus hight,
For the brave youthly champions to assay
With burning charet wheeles it nigh to smite;
But who that smites it mars his ioyous play,
And is the spectacle of ruinous decay.

Yet, therewith sore enrag'd, with sterne regard
Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest,
Which ou his helmet martelled so hard
That made him low incline his lofty crest,
And bowd his battred visour to his brest:
Wherewith he was so stund that he n'ote ryde,
But reeled to and fro from east to west:
Which when his cruell enimy espyde,
She lightly unto him adioyned syde to syde;

And, on his collar laying puissant hand,
Out of his wavering seat him pluckt perforse,
Perforse him pluckt unable to withstand
Or helpe himselfe; and laying thwart her horse,
In loathly wise like to a carrion corse,
She bore him fast away: which when the knight
That her pursewed saw, with great remorse
He neare was touched in his noble spright,
And gan encrease his speed as she encreast her
flight.

Whom whenas nigh approching she espyde,
She threw away her burden angrily;
For she list not the batteill to abide,
But made herseife more light away to fly:
Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye
That almost in the backe he oft her strake:
But still, when him at hand she did espy,
She turnd, and semblaunce of faire fight did make;
But, when he stayd, to flight againe she did her take.

By this the good sir Satyrane gan wake
Out of his dreame that did him long entraunce,
And, seeing none in place, he gan to make
Exceeding mone, and curst thet cruell chaunce
Which reft from him so faire a chevisaunce:
At length he spyde whereas that wofull squyre,
Whom he had reskewed from captivaunce
Of his strong foe, lay tombled in the myre,
Unable to arise, or foot or hand to styre.

To whom approching, well he mote perceive
In that fowle plight a comely personage
And lovely face, made fit for to deceive
Fraile ladies hart with loves consuming rage,
Now in the blossome of his freshest age:
He reard him up and loosd his yron bands,
And after gan inquire his parentage,
And how he fell into that gyaunts hands,
And who that was which chaced her along the lands.

Then trembling yet through feare the squire bespake; "That geauntesse Argantè is behight,

A daughter of the Titans which did make
Warre against Heven, and heaped hils on hight
To scale the skyes and put love from his right:
Her syre Typhoeus was; who, mad through merth,
And dronke with blood of men slaine by his might,
Through incest her of his owne mother Earth
Whylome begot, being but halfe twin of that berth;

"For at that berth another babe she bore;
To weet, the mightie Ollyphant, that wrought
Great wreake to many errant knights of yore,
And many hath to foule confusion brought.
These twinnes, men say, (a thing far passing thought)
Whiles in their mothers wombe enclosed they were,
Ere they into the lightsom world were brought,
In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere,
And in that monstrous wise did to the world appere.

"So liv'd they ever after in like sin,
Gainst natures law and good behaveoure:
But greatest shame was to that maiden twin;
Who, not content so fowly to devoure

Her native flesh and staine her brothers bowre,
Did wallow in all other fleshly myre,
And suffred beastes her body to deflowre;
So whot she burned in that lustfull fyre:

Yet all that might not slake her sensuall desyre:

"But over all the countrie she did raunge,
To seeke young men to quench her flaming thrust,
And feed her fancy with delightfull chaunge:
Whom so she fittest findes to serve her lust,
Through her maine strength, in which she most doth
She with her bringes into a secret ile, [trust,
Where in eternall bondage dye he must,
Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile,

And in all shamefull sort himselfe with her defile.

"Me seely wretch she so at vauntage caught,
After she long in waite for me did lye,
And meant unto her prison to have brought,
Her lothsom pleasure there to satisfye;
That thousand deathes me lever were to dye
Then breake the vow that to faire Columbell
I plighted have, and yet keepe stedfastly:
As for my name, it mistreth not to tell; [well.
Call me the Squyre of Dames; that me beseemeth

"But that bold knight, whom ye pursuing saw
That geauntesse, is not such as she seemd,
But a faire virgin that in martial law
And deedes of armes above all dames is deemd,
And above many knightes is eke esteemd
For her great wroth: she Palladine is hight:
She you from death, you me from dread, redeemd:
Ne any may that monster match in fight,
But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight."

"Her well beseemes that quest," quoth Satyrane:
"But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what vow is this,
Which thou upon thyselfe hast lately ta'ne?"
"That shall I you recount," quoth he, "ywis,
So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis.

That gentle lady whom I love and serve,
After long suit and wearie servicis,

Did aske me how I could her love deserve,

And how she might be sure that I would never swerve.

"I, glad by any meanes her grace to gaine,
Badd her commaund my life to save or spill:
Eftsoones she badd me with incessaunt paine
To wander through the world abroad at will,
And every where, where with my power or skill
I might doe service unto gentle dames,
That I the same should faithfully fulfill;

"To weet, that I my traveill should resume,
And with like labour walke the world arownd,
Ne ever to her presence should presume,
Till I so many other dames had fownd,
The which, for all the suit I could propownd,
Would me refuse their pledges to afford,
But did abide for ever chaste and sownd."
"Ah! gentle squyre," quoth he, "tell at one word,
How many fownd'st thou such to put in thy record?"

"Indeed, sir Knight,” said he, “one word may tell
All that I ever fownd so wisely stayd,
For onely three they were disposd so well;
And yet three yeares I now abrode have strayd,
To find them out."—" Mote I," then laughing sayd
The knight, "inquire of thee what were those three,
The which thy proffred curtesie denayd?
Or ill they seemed sure avizd to bee,

Or brutishly brought up, that nev'r did fashions see."

"The first which then refused me," said hee,
"Certes was but a common courtisane;
Yet flat refusd to have adoe with mee,
Because I could not give her many a jane."
(Thereat full hartely laughed Satyrane.)
"The second was an holy nunne to chose,
Which would not let me be her chappeilane,
Because she knew, she sayd, I would disclose
Her counsell, if she should her trust in me repose.

"The third a damzell was of low degree,
Whom I in countrey cottage fownd by chaunce :
Full litle weened I that chastitee
Had lodging in so meane a maintenaunce;
Yet was she fayre, and in her countenaunce
Dwelt simple truth in seemely fashion:
Long thus I woo'd her with due observaunce,
In hope unto my pleasure to have won;
But was as far at last, as when I first begon.

"Safe her, I never any woman found
That chastity did for itselfe embrace,
But were for other causes firme and sound;
Either for want of handsome time and place,
Or else for feare of shame and fowle disgrace.
Thus am I hopelesse ever to attaine
My ladies love, in such a desperate case,
But all my dayes am like to waste in vaine,
Seeking to match the chaste with th' unchaste ladies
traine."

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Perdy, sayd Satyrane, "thou Squyre of Dames,
Great labour fondly hast thou hent in hand,

To get small thankes, and therewith many blames;
That may emongst Alcides labours stand."
Thence backe returning to the former land,
Where late he left the beast he overcame,

And at the twelve monethes end sbould bring their He found him not; for he had broke his band,
And was returnd againe unto his dame,

names

And pledges, as the spoiles of my victorious games. To tell what tydings of fayre Florimell became.

"So well I to faire ladies service did,

And found such favour in their loving hartes,
That, ere the yeare his course had compassid,
Three hundred pledges for my good desartes,
Ane thrice three hundred thanks for my good partes,

I with me brought and did to her present:
Which when she saw, more bent to eke my smartes
Then to reward my trusty true intent,
She gan for me devise a grievous punishment;

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