Forth came that auncient lord, and aged queene,
Arayd in ant que robes downe to the grownd,
And sad habiliments right well beseene:
A noble crew about them waited rownd
Of sage and sober peres, all gravely gownd;
Whom far before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd,
But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;
Glad signe of victory and peace in all their land.

Unto that doughtie conquerour they came,
And, him before themselves prostrating low,
Their lord and patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their lawrell boughes did throw.
Soone after them, all dauncing on a row,
The comely virgins came, with girlands dight,
As fresh as flowres in medow greene doe grow,
When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light;
And in their handes sweet timbrells all upheld on
hight.

And, them before, the fry of children yong
Their wanton sportes and childish mirth did play,
And to the maydens sownding tymbrels song
In well attuned notes a ioyous lay,
And made delightfull musick all the way,
Untill they came where that faire virgin stood:
As fayre Diana in fresh sommers day

Beholdes her nymphes enraung'd in shady wood, Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood;

So she beheld those maydens meriment
With chearefull vew; who, when to her they came,
Themselves to ground with gracious humblesse bent,
And her ador'd by honorable name,
Lifting to Heven her everlasting fame:
Then on her head they sett a girlond greene,
And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game:
Who, in her self-resemblance well beseene,
Did seeme, such as she was, a goodly maiden queene.
And after all the raskall many ran,
Heaped together in rude rablement,
To see the face of that victorious man,
Whom all admired as from Heaven sent,
And gaz'd upon with gaping wonderment.
But when they came where that dead dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,
The sight with ydle feare did them dismay,
Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.
Some feard, and fledd: some feard, and well it
faynd;

One, that would wiser seeme then all the rest,
Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd
Some lingring life within his hollow brest,
Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest
Of many dragonettes, his fruitfull seede;
Another saide, that in his eyes did rest

Yet sparckling fyre, and badd thereof take heed;
Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed.

Thus flocked all the folke him rownd about;
The whiles that boario king, with all his traine,
Being arrived where that champion stout
After his foes defeasaunce did remaine,
Him goodly greetes, and fayre does entertayne
With princely gifts of yvory and gold,
And thousand thankes him yeeldes for all his paine.
Then when his daughter deare he does behold,
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.

And after to his pallace he them bringes,

With shaumes, and trompets, and with clarions
And all the way the ioyous people singes, [sweet;
And with their garments strowes the paved street;
Whence mounting up, they fynd purveyaunce meet
Of all, that royall princes court became;
And all the floore was underneath their feet
Bespredd with costly scarlott of great name,
On which they lowly sitt, and fitting purpose frame.
What needes me tell their feast and goodly guize,
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?
What needes of dainty dishes to devize,
Of comely services, or courtly trayne?
My narrow leaves cannot in them contayne
The large discourse of roiall princes state.
Yet was their manner then but bare and playne;
For th' antique world excesse and pryde did hate:
Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late.

Then, when with meates and drinkes of every kinde
Their fervent appetites they quenched had,
Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad
That auncient lord gan fit occasion finde,
Which in his travell him befallen had,
For to demaund of his renowmed guest:
Who then with utt'rance grave, and count'nance sad,
From poynt to poynt, as is before exprest,
Discourst his voyage long, according his request.

Great pleasure, mixt with pittiful regard,
That godly king and queene did passionate,
Whyles they his pittifull adventures heard;
That oft they did lament his lucklesse state,
And often blame the too impórtune fate
That heapd on him so many wrathfull wreakes;
(For never gentle knight, as he of late,

So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes;) [cheaks.
And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers

Then sayd that royall pere in sober wise;
"Deare sonne, great beene the evils which ye bore
From first to last in your late enterprise,
That I no'te, whether praise or pitty more:
For never living man, I weene, so sore
In sea of deadly daungers was distrest:
But since now safe ye seised have the shore,
And well arrived are, (high God be blest!)
Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest."

"Ah, dearest lord," said then that doughty knight, "Of ease or rest I may not yet devize;

For by the faith, which I to armes have plight,
I bownden am streight after this emprize,
As that your daughter can ye well advize,
Backe to retourne to that great Faery queene,
And her to serve sixe yeares in warlike wize,
Gainst that proud Paynim king that works her teene:
Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have
beene,"

“Unhappy falls that hard necessity,”
Quoth he, "the troubler of my happy peace,
And vowed foe of my felicity;

Ne I against the same can justly preace.
But since that band ye cannot now release,
Nor doen undo, (for vowes may not be vayne,)
Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,
Ye then shall hether backe retourne agayne,
The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twayn:

"Which, for my part, I covet to performe,
In sort as through the world I did proclame,
That whoso kild that monster most deforme,
And him in hardy battayle overcame,
Should have mine onely daughter to his dame,
And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee:
Therefore since now to thee perteynes the same,
By dew desert of noble chevalree,

Both daughter and eke kingdome lo! I yield to thee."

Then forth he called that his daughter fayre,
The fairest Un', his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter and his onely hayre;
Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare,
As bright as doth the morning starre appeare
Out of the east, with flaming lockes bedight,
To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,
And to the world does bring long-wished light:
So faire and fresh that lady shewd herselfe in sight:

So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May;
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearie iourney she did ride;
And on her now a garment she did weare
All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride,
That seemd like silke and silver woven neare ;
But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare,

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,
And glorious light of her sunshyny face,
To tell, were as to strive against the streame:
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace
Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her own deare loved knight,
All were she daily with himselfe in place,
Did wonder much at her celestial sight:

"To thee, most mighty king of Eden fayre,
Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest
The wofull daughter and forsaken heyre
Of that great emperour of all the west;
And bids thee be advized for the best,
Ere thou thy daughter linck, in holy band
Of wedlocke, to that new unknowen guest:
For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love, and to another land.

"To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad,
He was affyaunced long time before,
And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,
False erraunt knight, infamous, and forsworne!
Witnesse the burning altars, which he swore,
And guilty Heavens of his bold periury:
Which though he hath polluted oft of yore,
Yet I to them for judgement inst doe fly,
And them coniure t' avenge this shamefull iniury!
"Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
Or false or trew, or living or else dead,
Withhold, O soverayne prince, your hasty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
Through weaknesse of my widowhed or woe:
For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead,
And shall finde friends, if need requireth soe.
So bids thee well to fare, thy neither friend nor foe.
"FIDESSA."

When he these bitter byting wordes had red,
The tydings straunge did him abashed make,
That still he sate long time astonished,
As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.
At last his solemn silence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
"Redoubted knight, that for myne only sake
Thy life and honor late adventurest;

Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.

"What meane these bloody vowes and idle threats,
Throwne out from womanish impatient mynd?
What Hevens? what altars? what enraged heates,
Here heaped up with termes of love unkynd,
My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bynd?
High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame!
But if yourselfe, sir Knight, ye faulty fynd,
Or wrapped be in loves of former dame,

So fairely dight when she in presence came,

She to her syre made humble reverence,
And bowed low, that her right well became,
And added grace unto her excellence:
Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence
Thus gan to say-But, care he thus had sayd,
With flying speede, and seeming great pretence,
Came running in, much like a man dismayd,
A messenger with letters, which his message sayd.

All in the open hall amazed stood

At suddeinnesse of that unwary sight,
And wondred at his breathlesse hasty mood;
But he for nought would stay his passage right,
Till fast before the king he did alight;
Where falling flat great humblesse he did make,
And kist the ground whereon his foot was pight;
Then to his handes that writt he did betake,
Which he disclosing, read thus, as the paper spake;

To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent ;
"My lord, my king; be nought hereat dismayd,
Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,
What woman, and wherefore, doth me upbrayd
With breach of love and loialty betrayd.
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward

I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd
Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;
That day should faile me ere I had them all declard.

"There did I find, or rather I was fownd
Of this false woman that Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest dame on grownd,
Most false Duessa, royal richly dight,
That easy was t' inveigle weaker sight:
Who by her wicked arts and wiely skill,
Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill."

95

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight
And deadly food he makes: him to offend
By forged treason, or by open fight,
He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end:
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,
His practick witt and his fayre fyled tonge,
With thousand other sleightes; for well he kend
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong :
For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong.
Still, as he went, he craftie stales did lay,
With cunning traynes him to entrap unwares,
And privy spyals plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;
To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.
But now so wise and wary was the knight
By tryall of his former harmes and cares,
That he descryde, and shonned still, his slight:
The fish, that once was caught, new bayt wil hardly
byte.

Nath'lesse th' enchaunter would not spare his payne,
In hope to win occasion to his will:
Which when he long awaited had in vayne,
He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill:
For to all good he enimy was still.
Upon the way him fortuned to meete,
Fayre marching underneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,
That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and upright;
His countenance demure and temperate;
But yett so sterne and terrible in sight,

That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate:
He was an Elfin borne, of noble state
And mickle worship in his native land;
Well could he tourney, and in lists debate,
And knighthood tooke of good sir Huons hand,
When with king Oberon he came to Fary land.
Him als accompanyd upon the way
A comely palmer, clad in black attyre,
Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray,
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:
And, if by lookes one may the mind aread,
He seems to be a sage and sober syre;
And ever with slow pace the knight did lead,
Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps

to tread.

Such whenas Archimago them did view,
He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle:
Eftsoones, untwisting his deceiptfull clew,
He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle;
And, with faire countenance and flattring style
To them approching, thus the knight bespake;
"Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike
spoyle,

And great atchiev'ments, great yourselfe to make, Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake."

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,
And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt:
Who feigning then in every limb to quake
Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt,
With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt;
"Dear lady! how shall I declare thy cace.
Whom late I left in languorous constraynt?
Would God! thyselfe now present were in place
To tell this ruefull tale: thy sight could win thee
grace:

"Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst,
That you, most noble sir, had present beene
When that lude rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst,
Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene,
To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene
As on the Earth, great mother of us all,
With living eye more fayre was never seene
Of chastity and honour virginall:
[call!
Witnes, ye Heavens, whom she in vaine to help did

"How may it be," sayd then the knight halfe wroth,
"That knight should knighthood ever so have
shent?"
[troth,
"None but that saw," quoth he, "would weene for
How shamefully that mayd he did torment:
Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,
And drew her on the ground; and his sharpe sword
Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,
And threatned death with many a bloodie word;
Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to see abhord."
Therewith amoved from his sober mood,

[act? "And lives he yet," said he, "that wrought this And doen the Heavens afford him vitall food?" "He lives," quoth he, "and boasteth of the fact, Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt." "Where may that treachour then," sayd he, " be found,

Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?" "That I shall shew," said he, "as sure as hound The stricken deare doth chaleng by the bleeding

wound."

He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre
And zealous haste away is quickly gone

To seeke that knight, where him that crafty squyre
Supposd to be. They do arrive anoue
Where sate a gentle lady all alone,
With garments rent, and heare discheveled,
Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone:
Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.
The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said;
"Faire lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight,
Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd,
And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:
Forthy appease your griefe and heavy plight,
And tell the cause of your conceived payne;
For, if he live that hath you doen despight,
He shall you doe dew recompence agayne,
Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.”
Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise
She wilfully her sorrow did augment,
And offred hope of comfort did despise :
Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,
And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment;
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,
But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene:

Till her that squire bespake; "Madame, my liefe,
For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent,
But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you present.
For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment
When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,
And the weake minde with double woe torment?"
When she her squyre heard speake, she gan appease
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.