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So well she sped her and so far she ventred, At last, when long he follow'd had in vaine,
That, ere unto his hellish den he raught,

Yet found no ease of griefe nor hope of grace,
Even as he ready was there to have entred, Unto those woods he turned backe againe,
She sent an arrow forth with mighty draught, Full of sad anguish and in heavy case:
That in the very dore him overcaught,

And, finding there fit solitary place And, in his nape arriving, through it thrild For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy glade, His greedy throte, therewith in two distraught, Where hardly eye mote see bright Heavens face That all his vitall spirites thereby spild,

For mossy trees, which covered all with shade
And all bis hairy brest with gory bloud was fild. And sad melancholy; there be his cabin made.
Whom when on ground she groveling saw to rowle, His wonted warlike weapons all he broke
She ran in hast his life to have bereft;

And threw away, with vow to use no more,
But, ere she could him reach, the sinfull sowle Ne thenceforth ever strike in battell stroke,
Having his carrion corse quite sencelesse left Ne ever word to speake to woman more ;
Was fled to Hell, surcharg'd with spoile and theft: But in that wildernesse, of men forlore
Yet over him she there long gazing stood,

And of the wicked world forgotten quight,
And oft admir'd bis monstrous shape, and oft His hard mishap in dolor to deplore,
His mighty limbs, whilest all with filthy bloud And wast his wretched daies in wofull plight:
The place there over-flowne seemd like a sodaine So on himselfe to wreake his follies owne despight.
flood.

And eke his garment, to be thereto meet, Thenceforth she past into his dreadfull den, He wilfully did cut and shape apew; Where nought but darkesome drerinesse she found, And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment sweet Ne creature saw, but hearkned now and then

To be embaulm'd, and sweat out dainty dew,
Some litle whispering, and soft-groning sound. He let to grow and griesly to concrew,
With that she askt, what ghosts there under ground Uncomb’d, uncurl'd, and carelesly unshed;
Lay hid in horrour of eternall night;

That in short time his face they overgrew,
And bad them, if so be they were not bound, And over all his shoulders did dispred,
To come and shew themselves before the light,

That who he whilome was uneath was to be red. Now freed from feare and danger of that dismall wight.

There he continued in this carefull plight,

Wretchedly wearing out his youthly yeares, Then forth the sad Æmylia issewed,

Through wilfull penury consumed quight, Yet trembling every joynt through former feare;

That like a pined ghost he soone appeares: And after her the hag, there with her meved,

For other food then that wilde forrest beares, A foule and lothsome creature, did appeare;

Ne other drinke there did he ever tast A leman fit for such a lover deare:

Then running water tempred with his tearés, That mov'd Belphebe ber no lesse to hate,

The more his weakened body so to wast: Then for to rue the others heavy cheare;

That out of all mens knowledge he was worne at lasť. Of whom she gan enquire of her estate; Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.

For on a day, by fortune as it fell, Thence she them brought toward the place where Seeking adventures where he mote heare tell;

His own deare lord, prince Arthure, came that way, She left the yentle squire with Amoret: [late There she himn found by that new lovely mate,

And, as he through the wandring wood did stray,

Having espide his cabin far away, Who lay the wbiles in swoune, full sadly set,

He to it drew, to weet who there did wone; From her faire eyes wiping the deawy wet

Weeniug therein some holy hermit lay, Which softly stild, and kissing them atweene,

That did resort of sinfull people shonne; And handling soft the hurts which she did get :

Or else some woodman shrowded there froin scorchFor of that carle sbe sorely bruz'd had beene,

ing Sunne. Als of his owne rash hand one wound was to be seene. Which when she saw with sodaine glauncing eye,

Arriving there he found this wretched man Her noble heart, with sight thereof, was fild

Spending his daies in dolour and despaire, With deepe disdaine and great indignity,

And, through long fasting, woxen pale and wan, That in her wrath she thought them both have thrild

All over-growen with rude and rugged haire; With that selfe arrow which the carle had kild :

That albeit his owne dear squire he were, Yet held her wratbfull hand from vengeance sore :

Yet he him knew not, ne aviz'd at all; But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld,

But like strange wight, whom he had seene no where, “ Is this the faith?” she said-and said no more,

Saluting him, gan into speach to fall, [thrall. But turnd her face, and fled away for evermore.

And pitty much his plight, that livd like outcast He, seeing her depart, arose np light,

But to his speach he aunswered no whit, Right sore agrieved at her sharpe reproofe,

But stood still mute, as if he had beene dum, And follow'd fast : but, when he came in sight, Ne signe of sence did shew, ne common wit, He durst not nigh approch, but kept aloofe, As one with griefe and anguishe over-cum; For dread of her displeasure's utmost proofe : And unto every thing did aunswere mim: And evermore, when he did grace entreat,

And ever, when the prince unto him spake, And framed speaches fit for his behoofe,

He louted lowly, as did him becum, Her mortall arrowes she at him did threat,

And humble homage did unto him make; And forst him backe with fowle dishonor to retreat. Midst sorrow shewing ioyous semblance for his sake.

At which his uncouth guise and usage quaint Shee sitting by him, as on ground he lay,
The prince did wonder much, yet could not ghesse Her mournefull notes full piteously did frame,
The cause of that his sorrowfull constraint;

And thereof made a lamentable lay,
Yet weend, by secret signes of manlinesse

So sensibly compyld that in the same Which close appeard in that rude brutishnesse, Him seemed oft he heard his owne right name. That he whilome some gentle swaine had beene, With that he forth would poure so plenteous teares, Traind up in feats of armes and knightlinesse; And beat his breast unworthy of such blame, Which he observ'd, by that he him had seene And knocke his head, and rend bis rugged heares, To weld his naked sword and try the edges keene; That could have perst the hearts of tigres and of

beares. And eke by that he saw on every tree How he the name of one engraven had

Thus, long this gentle bird to him did use Which likly was his liefest love to be,

Withouten dtead of perill to repaire From whom he now so sorely was bestad ;

Unto his wonne, and with her mournefull muse Which was by him Belphebe rightly rad :

Him to recomfort in his greatest care, Yet who was that Belphebe he ne wist;

That much did ease his mouming and misfare: Yet saw he often how he wexed glad

And every day, for guerdon of her song, When he it beard, and how the ground he kist He part of his small feast to her would share; Wherein it written was, and how himselfe he blist. That, at the last, of all his woe and wrong

Companion she became, and so continued long. Tho, when he long had marked his demeanor, And saw that all he said and did was vaine, Upon a day, as she him sate beside, Ne ought mote make him change his wonted tenor, By chance he certaine miniments forth drew, Ne ought mote cease to mitigate his paine; Which yet with him as relickes did abide He left him there in languor to remaine,

Of all the bounty which Belphebe threw Till time for him should remedy provide,

On him, whilst goodly grace she did him shew: And him restore to former grace againe :

Amongst the rest a iewell rich he found, Which, for it is too long here to abide,

That was a ruby of right perfect hew,
I will deferre the end untill another tide.

Shap'd like a heart yet bleeding of the wound,
And with a litle golden chaine about it bound.

The same he tooke, and with a riband new,

In which his ladies colours were, did bind
CANTO VIII.

About the turtles necke, that with the vew

Did greatly solace his engrieved mind.
The gentle squire recovers grace:

All unawares the bird, when she did find
Sclaunder her guests doth staine:

Herselfe so deckt, ber nimble wings displaid,
Corflambo chaseth Placidas,

And flew away as lightly as the wind :
And is by Arthure slaine.

Which sodaine accident him much dismaid; [straid.

Aud, looking after long, did marke which way she
Well said the Wiseman, now prov'd true by this
Which to this gentle squire did happen late, But whenas long he looked had in vaine,
That the displeasure of the mighty is

Yet saw her forward still to make her flight,
Then death itselfe more dread and desperate; His weary eie returned to him againe,
Por naught the same may calme, ne mitigate, Full of discomfort and disquiet plight,
Till time the tempest doe thereof delay

That both his iuell he had lost so light,
With sufferaunce soft, which rigour can abate, And eke his deare companion of his care.
And have the sterne remembrance wypt away

But that sweet bird departing flew forthright, Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein infixed lay. Through the wide region of the wastfull aire,

Untill she came where wonned his Belphebe faire Like as it fell to this unhappy boy, Whose tender heart the faire Belphebe had There found she her (as then it did betide) With one sterne looke so daunted, that no ioy Sitting in covert shade of arbors sweet, In all his life, which afterwards he lad,

After late wearie toile which she had tride He ever tasted; but with penaunce sad

In salvage chase, to rest as seem'd her meet. And pensive sorrow pind and wore away,

There she, alighting, fell before her feet, Ne ever laught, ne once shew'd countenance glad; And gan to her her mournfull plaint to make, But alwaies wept and wailed night and day, As was her wont, thinking to let her weet As blasted bloosme through heat doth languish and The great tormenting griefe that for her sake (take. decay:

Her gentle squire through her displeasure did perTill on a day, as in his wonted wise

She, her beholding with attentive eye,
His doole he made, there chaunst a turtle dove At length did marke about her purple brest
To come, where he his dolors did devise,

That precious juell, which she formerly
That likewise late had lost her dearest love, Had knowne right well with colourd ribbands drest:
Which losse her made like passion also prove : Therewith she rose in hast, and her addrest
Who, seeing his sad plight, ber tender heart With ready hand it to have reft away:
With deare compassion deeply did emmove, But the swift bird obayd not her behest,
That she gan mone his undeserved smart,

But swarv'd aside, and there againe did stay; And with her dolefull accent beare with him a part. She follow'd her, and thought againe it to assay,

And ever, when she nigh approcht, the dove In which he long time afterwards did lead
Would fit a litle forward, and then stay

An happie life with grace and good accord,
Till she drew neare, and then againe remove: Pearlesse of fortunes chaunge or envies dread,
So tempting her still to pursue the pray,

And eke all mindlesse of his owne deare lord And still from her escaping soft away:

The noble prince, who never heard one word Till that at length into that forrest wide

Of tydings, what did unto him betide, She drew ber far, and led with slow delay : Or what good fortune did to him afford; In th' end she her unto that place did guide, But throngh the endlesse world did wander wide, Whereas that wofull man in languor did abide. Him seeking evermore, yet no where him descride :

Eftsoones she few unto his fearelesse hand, Till on a day, as through that wood he rode,
And there a piteous ditty new deviz'd,

He chaunst to come where those two ladies late,
As if she would have made him understand Æmylia and Amoret, abode,
His sorrowes cause, to be of her despis'd :

Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate;
Whom when she saw in wretched weeds disguiz'd, The one right feeble through the evill rate
With beary glib deform'd, and meiger face, Of food, which in her duresse she had found;
Like ghost late risen from his grave agryz’d,

The other almost dead and desperate [wound She knew him not, but pittied much his case, Through her late hurts, and through that haplesse And wisht it were in her to doe him any grace. With which the squire, in her defcrice, her sore

astound. He, her beholding, at her feet downe fell And kist the ground on which her sole did tread,

Whom when the prince beheld, he gan to rew And washt the same with water wbich did well

The evill case in which those ladies lay; from his moist eies, and like two streames procead; | Of Amoret

, so neare unto decay,

But most was moved at the piteous rew
Yet spake no word, whereby she might aread
What mister wight he was, or what he ment;

That her great daunger did him much dismay. But, as one daunted with her presence dread,

Eftsoones that pretious liquor forth he drew,

Which he in store about him kept alway, Onely few ruefull lookes unto her sent,

And with few drops thereof did softly dew (anew. As messengers of his true meaning and intent.

Her wounds, that unto strength restor'd her soont Yet nathëmore his meaning she ared,

Tho, when they both recovered were right well, But wondred much at his so selcouth case;

He gan of them inquire, what evill guide And by his persons secret seemlybed

Them thether brought, and how their harmes befell: Well weend that he had beene some man of place, / To whom they told all that did them betide, Before misfortune did his hew deface;

And how from thraldome vile they were untide, That, being mov'd with ruth, she thus bespake: Of that saine wicked carle, by virgins hond'; Ah ! wofull man, what Heavens hard disgrace, Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him there beside, Or wrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake,

And eke his cave in which they both were bond : Or selfe-disliked life, doth thee thus wretched make! At which he wondred much when all those signes

he fond. “ If Heaven; then none may it redresse or blame, Sith to his powre we all are subject borne!

And evermore he greatly did desire If wrathfull wight; then fowle rebuke and shame

To know, what virgin did them thence unbind; Be theirs that have so cruell thee forlorne !

And oft of them did earnestly inquire, But, if through inward griefe, or wilfull scorne

Where was her won, and how he mote her find. Of life, it be; then better doe advise:

But, whenas nought according to his mind For he, whose daies in wilfull woe are worne,

He could out-learne, he them from ground did reare; The grace of his Creator doth despise,

(No service lothsome to a gentle kind) That will not use his gifts for thanklesse nigardise.” And on his warlike beast them both did beare,

Himselfe by them ou foot to succourthem from feare. When so he heard her say, eftsoones he brake, So when that forrest they had passed well, His sodaine silence which he long had pent, A litle cotage farre away they spide, And, sighing inly deepe, her thus bespake; To which they drew ere night upon them fell; “ Then have they all themselves against me bent!

And, entring in, found none therein abide, For Heaven, first author of my languishment, But one old woman sitting there beside Envying my too great felicity,

Upon the ground in ragged rude attyre, Did closely with a cruell one consent

With filthy lockes about her scattered wide, To cloud my daies in dolefull misery,

Gnawing her payles for felnesse and for yre, And make me loath this life, still longing for to die. And there out sucking venime to her parts entyre:

“ Ne any but yourself, O dearest dred,

A foule and loathly creature sure in sight, Hath done this wrong, to wreake on worthlesse wight And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse : Your high displesure, through misdeeming bred : For she was stuft with rancour and despight That, when your pleasure is to deeme aright, Up to the throat, that oft with bitternesse Ye may redresse, and me restore to light !” It forth would breake and gush in great excesse, Which sory words her mightie hart did mate Pouring ont s*reames of poyson and of gall With mild regard to see his suefull plight,

Gainst all that truth or vertue doe professe; That her inburning wrath she gan abate,

Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall [call. And him receiv'd againe to former favours state. And wickedly backbite : ber name men Sclaunder

Her nature is, all goodnesse to abuse,

Then Beautie, which was made to represent And causelesse crimes continually to frame, The great Creatours owne resemblance bright, With which she guiltlesse persons may accuse,

Unto abuse of lawlesse lust was lent, And steale away the crowne of their good name: And made the baite of bestiall delight: Ne ever knight so bold, ne over dame

Then faire grew foule, and foule grew faire in sight; So cbast and loyall liv'd, but she would strive And that, which wont to vanquish God and man, With forged cause them falsely to defame; Was made the vassall of the victors might; Ne ever thing so well was doen alive, [deprive. Then did her glorious flowre wex dead and wan, But she with blame would blot, and of due praise Despisd and troden downe of all that over-ran: Her words were not, as common words are ment, And now it is so utterly decayd, T'expresse the meaning of the inward mind, That any bud thereof doth scarse remaine, But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit sent But if few plants, preserv'd through heavenly ayd, From inward parts, with cancred malice lind, In princes court doe hap to sprout againe, And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind; [hart, Dew'd with her drops of bountie soveraine, Which passing through the eares would pierce the Which from that goodly glorious flowre proceed, And wound the soule itselfe with griefe unkind : Sprung of the auncient stocke of prinoes straine, For, like the stings of aspes that kill with smart, Now th' onely remnant of that royall breed, Her spightfull words did pricke and wound the inner Whose noblekind at first was sure of heavenlyseed. part.

Tho, soone as day discovered Heavens face Such was that hag, unmeet to host such guests, To sinfull men with darknes overdight, Whom greatest princes court would welcome fayne: This gentle crew gan from their eye-lids chace But neede, that answers not to all requests, The drowzie humour of the dampish night, Bad them not looke for better entertayne ; And did themselves unto their iourney dight. And eke that age despysed nicenesse vaine, So forth they yode, and forward softly paced, Enur'd to hardnesse and to homely fare,

That them to view had bene an uncouth sight; Which them to warlike discipline did trayne, How all the way the prince on footpace traced, And manly limbs endur'd with litle care

The ladies both on horse together fast embraced. Against all hard mishaps and fortunelesse misfare.

Soone as they thence departed were afore, Then all that evening, welcommed with cold

That shamefull hag, the slaunder of her sexe, And chearelesse hunger, they together spent ; Them follow'd fast, and them reviled sore, Yet found no fault, but that the bag did scold

Him calling theefe,them whores; that much did vexe And rayle at them with grudgefull discontent,

His noble hart: thereto she did annexe For lodging there without her owne consent: False crimes and facts, such as they nerer ment, Yet they endured all with patience milde,

That those two ladies much asham'd did wexe: And unto rest themselves all onely lent,

The more did she pursue her lewd intent, [spent. Regardlesse of that queane so base and vilde

And rayld and rag'd, till she had all her poysog To be uniustly blamd and bitterly revilde. Here well I weene, whenas these rimes be red

At last, when they were passed out of sight, With misregard, that some rash-witted wight,

Yet she did not her spightfull speach forbeare, Whose looser thought will lightly be misled,

But after them did barke, and still backbite, These gentle ladies will misdeeme too light

Though there were none her hatefull words to heare: For thus conversing with this noble knight;

Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare Sith now of dayes such temperance is rare

The stone, which passed straunger at him threw; And hard to finde, that heat of youthfull spright

So she, them seeing past the reach of eare, For ought will from his greedie pleasure spare:

Against the stones and trees did rayle anew, More hard for hungry steed tabstaine from plea- Till she had duld the sting, which in her tongs end sant lare.

grew. But antique Age, yet in the infancie

They passing forth kept on their readie way, Of time, did live then, like an innocent,

With easie steps so soft as foot could stryde, In simple truth and blamelesse chastitie;

Both for great feeblesse which did oft assay Ne then of guile had made experiment;

Faire Amoret, that scarcely she could ryde, But, voide of vile and treacherous intent,

And eke through heavie armes which sore annoyd Held vertue, for itselfe, in soveraine awe:

The prince on foot, not wonted so to fare; Then loyall love had royall regiment,

Whose steadie hand was faine his steede to guyde, And each unto his lust did make a lawe,

And all the way from trotting hard to spare ; From all forbidden things his liking to withdraw. So was his toyle the more, the more that was his care. The lyon there did with the lambe consort, At length they spide where towards them with speed And eke the dove sate by the faulcons side; A squire came gallopping, as he would fie, Ne each of other feared fraud or tort,

Bearing a litle dwarfe before his steed, But did in safe securitie abide,

That all the way full loud for aide did crie, Withouten perill of the stronger pride:

That seem'd his shrikes would rend the brasen skie: But when the world woxe old, it woxe warre old, Whom after did a mighty man pursew, (Whereof it hight) and, having shortly tride Ryding upon a dromedare on hie, The traines of wit, in wickednesse woxe bold, Of stature huge, and horrible of hew, (vew : And dared of all sinnes the secrets to unfold. That would have maz'd a man his dreadfull face to VOL IIL

Q

For from his fearefull eyes two fierie beames, Which when that squire beheld, he woxe full glad
More sharpe then points of needles, did proceede, To see his foe breath out bis spright in vaine :
Shooting forth farre away two flaming streames, But that same dwarfe right sorie seemd and sad,
Full of sad powre, that poysnous bale did breede And howld aloud to see his lord there slaine,
To all that on him lookt without good heed, And rent his haire and scratcht his face for paine.
And secretly his enemies did slay:

Then gan the prince at leasure to inquire
Like as the basiliske, of serpents seede,

Of all the accident there hapned plaine, From powrefull eyes close venim doth convay And what he was whose eyes did flame with fire : Into the lookers hart, and killeth farre away. All which was thus to him declared by that squire.

He all the way did rage at that same squire, “ This mightie man," quoth he, “whom you have And after him full many threatnings threw,

slaine, With curses vaine in his avengefull ire :

Of an huge geauntesse whylome was bred; But none of them (so fast away he flew)

And by his strength rule to himselfe did gaine Him overtooke before he came in vew:

Of many nations into thraldome led,
Where when he saw the prince in armour bright, And mightie kingdomes of his force adred;
He cald to him aloud bis case to rew,

Whom yet he conquer'd not by bloudie fight, And rescue hijn, through succour of his might, Ne hostes of men with banners brode dispred, Prom that his cruell foe that him pursewd in sight. But by the powre of his infectious sight,

With which he killed all that came within his might, Eftsoones the princc tooke downe those ladies twaine From loftie steede, and mounting in their stead “ Ne was he ever vanquished afore, Came to that squire yet trembling every vaine; But ever vanquisht all with whom he fought; Of whom he gan enquire his cause of dread: Ne was there inan so strong, but he downe bore; Who as he gan the same to him aread,

Ne woman yet so faire, but he her brought Loe! hard behind his backe bis foe was prest, Unto his bay, and captived her thought : With dreadfull weapon aymed at his head, For most of strength and beautie bis desire That unto death had doen him unredrest,

Was spoyle to inake, and wast them unto nought, Had not the noble prince his readie stroke represt: By casting secret flakes of lustfull fire

From his false eyes into their harts and parts entire, Who, thrusting boldly twixt him and the blow, The burden of the deadly brunt did beare

“ Therefore Corflambo was he cald aright, Upon bis shield, which lightly he did throw Though namelesse there his bodie now doth lie; Over bis head, before the harnie came neare: Yet hath he left one daughter that is hight Nathlesse it fell with so despiteous dreare

The faire Pæana ; who seemes outwardly And heavie sway, that hard unto his crowne So faire as ever yet saw, living eie; The shield it drove, and did the covering reare: And, were her vertue like her beautie bright, Therewith both squire and dwarfe did tomble downe She were as faire as any under skie: Unto the earth, and lay long while in senselesse | But ah! she given is to vaine delight,

And eke too loose of life, and eke of love too light,

SwOwne.

Whereat the prince, full wrath, his strong right hand “ So, as it fell, there was a gentle squire
In full avengement heaved up on hie,

That lov'd a ladie of high parentage;
And stroke the Pagan with his steely brand But, for his meane degree might not aspire
So sore, that to his saddle-bow thereby

To match so bigh, her friends with counsell sage He bowed low, and so a while did lie:

Dissuaded ber from such a disparage: And sure, had not his massie yron mace

But she, whose hart to love was wbolly lent, Betwixt him and bis hurt bene happily,

Out of his hands could not redeeme her gage, It would have cleft him to the girding place ; But, firmely following her first intent, [consent. Yet, as it was, it did astonish him long space. Resolv'd with him to wend, gainst all her friends But, when he to himselfe returnd againe,

“ So twixt themselves they pointed time and place: All full of rage be gan to curse and sweare, To which when he according did repaire, And vow by Mahoune that he should be slaine. An hard mishap and disaventrous case With that his murdrous mace he up did reare, Him chaunst; instead of his Æmylia faire, That seemed nought the souse thereof could beare, This gyants sonne, that lies there on the laire And therewith smote at him with all bis might: An headlesse heape, him unawares there caught; But, ere that it to him approched neare,

And all dismayd through mercilesse despaire The royall child with readie quick foresight Him wretched thrall unto his dongeon brought, Did shun the proofe thereof and it avoyded light. Where he remaines of all unsuccour'd and unsought. But, ere his hand he could recure againe

“ This gyants daughter came upon a day To ward his bodie from the balefull stound, Unto the prison, in her ioyous glee, He smote at him with all his might and maine To view the thrals which there in bondage lay: So furiously that, ere he wist, he found

Amongst the rest she chaunced there to see His head before him tombling on the ground; This lovely swaine, the squire of low degree; The whiles his babling tongue did yet blaspheme To whom she did her liking lightly cast, And curse his god that did bim so confound; And wooed him her paramour to bee : The whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie streame, From day to day she woo'd and prayd him fast, His soule descended downe into the Stygian reame. And for his love him promist libertie at last.

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