Chapter IX: Appendix: Stanzas Omitted in the Second Edition (1596) 517 (7)

At last when fayling breath began to faint, viii
And saw no meanes to scape, of shame affrayd,
She set[497] her downe to weepe for sore constraint,
And to _Diana_ calling lowd for ayde,
Her deare besought, to let her dye a mayd.
The goddesse heard, and suddeine where she sate,
Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd
With stony feare of that rude rustick mate,
Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins state.

Lo now she is that stone, from whose[498] two heads, ix
As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,
Yet cold through feare, and old conceiued dreads;
And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,
Shapt like a maid, that such ye may her know;
And yet her vertues in her water byde:
For it is chast and pure, as purest snow,
Ne lets her waues with any filth be[499] dyde,
But euer like her selfe vnstained hath beene tryde.

From thence it comes, that this babes bloudy hand x
May not be clensd with water of this well:
Ne certes Sir striue you it to withstand,
But let them still be bloudy, as befell,
That they his mothers innocence may tell,
As she bequeathd in her last testament;
That as a sacred Symbole it may dwell
In her sonnes flesh, to minde reuengement,
And be for all chast Dames an endlesse moniment.

He hearkned to his reason, and the childe xi
Vptaking, to the Palmer gaue to beare;
But his sad fathers armes with bloud defilde,
An heauie load himselfe did lightly reare,
And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie steed with golden sell,
And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare.
By other accident that earst befell,
He is conuaide, but how or where, here fits not tell.

Which when Sir _Guyon_ saw, all were he wroth, xii
Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease,
And fairely fare on foot, how euer loth;
His double burden did him sore disease.
So long they traueiled with litle ease,
Till that at last they to a Castle came,
Built on a rocke adioyning to the seas;[500]
It was an auncient worke of antique fame[501],
And wondrous strong by nature, and by skilfull frame.

Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort, xiii
The children of one sire by mothers three;
Who dying whylome did diuide this fort
To them by equall shares in equall fee:
But strifull[502] minde, and diuerse qualitee
Drew them in parts, and each made others foe:
Still did they striue, and dayly disagree;
The eldest did against the youngest goe,
And both against the middest meant to worken woe.

Where when the knight arriu’d, he was right well xiv
Receiu’d, as knight of so much worth became,
Of second sister, who did far excell
The other two; _Medina_ was her name,
A sober sad, and comely curteous Dame;
Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize,
In goodly garments, that her well became,
Faire marching forth in honorable wize,
Him at the threshold met, and well did enterprize.

She led him vp into a goodly bowre, xv
And comely courted with meet modestie,
Ne in her speach, ne in her hauiour,
Was lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie,
But gratious womanhood, and grauitie,
Aboue the reason of her youthly yeares:
Her golden lockes she roundly did vptye
In breaded[503] tramels, that no looser heares
Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.

Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame, xvi
Seemely to entertaine her new-come guest,
Newes hereof to her other sisters came,
Who all this while were at their wanton rest,
Accourting each her friend with lauish fest:
They were two knights of perelesse puissance,
And famous far abroad for warlike gest,
Which to these Ladies loue did countenaunce,
And to his mistresse each himselfe stroue to aduaunce.

He that made loue vnto the eldest Dame, xvii
Was hight Sir _Huddibras_, an hardy man;
Yet not so good of deedes, as great of name,
Which he by many rash aduentures wan,
Since errant armes to sew he first began;
More huge in strength, then wise in workes he was,
And reason with foole-hardize ouer ran;
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas,
And was for terrour more, all armd in shyning bras.

But he that lou’d the youngest, was _Sans-loy_, xviii
He that faire _Vna_ late fowle outraged,
The most vnruly, and the boldest boy,
That euer warlike weapons menaged,
And to all lawlesse lust encouraged,
Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might:
Ne ought he car’d, whom he endamaged
By tortious wrong, or whom bereau’d of right.
He now this Ladies champion chose for loue to fight.

These two gay knights, vowd to so diuerse loues, xix
Each other does enuie with deadly hate,
And dayly warre against his foeman moues,
In hope to win more fauour with his mate,
And th’others pleasing seruice to abate,
To magnifie his owne. But when they heard,
How in that place straunge knight arriued late,
Both knights and Ladies forth right angry far’d,
And fiercely vnto battell sterne themselues prepar’d.

But ere they could proceede vnto the place, xx
Where he abode, themselues at discord fell,
And cruell combat ioynd in middle space:
With horrible assault, and furie fell,
They heapt huge strokes, the scorned life to quell,
That all on vprore from her settled seat[504]
The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell;
Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great
Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat.

The noyse thereof cald[505] forth that straunger knight, xxi
To weet, what dreadfull thing was there in hand[506];
Where when as two braue knights in bloudy fight
With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,
His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,
And shyning blade vnsheathd, with which he ran
Vnto that stead, their strife to vnderstond;
And at his first arriuall, them began
With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.

But they him spying, both with greedy forse xxii
Attonce vpon him ran, and him beset
With strokes of mortall steele without remorse,
And on his shield like yron sledges bet:
As when a Beare and Tygre being met
In cruell fight on lybicke Ocean wide,
Espye a traueiler with feet surbet,
Whom they in equall pray hope to deuide,
They stint their strife, and him assaile on euery side.

But he, not like a wearie traueilere, xxiii
Their sharpe assault right boldly[507] did rebut,
And suffred not their blowes to byte him nere,
But with redoubled buffes them backe did put:
Whose grieued mindes, which choler did englut,
Against themselues turning their wrathfull spight,
Gan with new rage their shields to hew and cut;
But still when _Guyon_ came to part their fight,
With heauie load on him they freshly gan to smight.

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas, xxiv
Whom raging windes threatning to make the pray
Of the rough rockes, do diuersly disease,
Meetes two contrary billowes by the way,
That her on either side do sore assay,
And boast to swallow her in greedy graue;
She scorning both their spights, does make wide way,
And with her brest breaking the fomy waue,
Does ride on both their backs, and faire her selfe doth saue.

So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth xxv
Betweene them both, by conduct of his blade.
Wondrous great prowesse and heroick worth
He shewd that day, and rare ensample made,
When two so mighty warriours he dismade:
Attonce he wards and strikes, he takes and payes,
Now forst to yield, now forcing to inuade,
Before, behind, and round about him layes:
So double was his paines, so double be his prayse.

Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see xxvi
Three combats ioyne in one, and to darraine
A triple warre with triple enmitee,
All for their Ladies froward loue to gaine,
Which gotten was but hate. So loue does raine
In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre;
He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe,
And yet his peace is but continuall iarre:
O miserable men, that to him subiect arre.

Whilst thus they mingled were in furious armes, xxvii
The faire _Medina_ with her tresses torne,
And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes,
Emongst them ran, and falling them beforne,
Besought them by the womb, which them had borne,
And by the loues, which were to them most deare,
And by the knighthood, which they sure had sworne,
Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare,
And to her iust conditions of faire peace to heare.

But her two other sisters standing by, xxviii
Her lowd gainsaid, and both their[508] champions[509] bad
Pursew the end of their strong enmity,
As euer of their loues they would be glad.
Yet she with pitthy words and counsell sad,
Still stroue their stubborne rages to reuoke,
That at the last suppressing fury mad,
They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke,
And hearken to the sober speaches, which she spoke.

Ah puissaunt Lords, what cursed euill Spright, xxix
Or fell _Erinnys_, in your noble harts[510]
Her hellish brond hath kindled with despight,
And stird you vp to worke your wilfull smarts?
Is this the ioy of armes? be these the parts
Of glorious knighthood, after bloud to thrust[511],
And not regard dew right and iust desarts?
Vaine is the vaunt, and victory vniust,
That more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.

And were there[512] rightfull cause of difference xxx
Yet were not better, faire it to accord,
Then with bloud guiltinesse[513] to heape offence,
And mortall vengeaunce ioyne to crime abhord?
O fly from wrath, fly, O my liefest Lord:
Sad be the sights, and bitter fruits of warre,
And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sword;
Ne ought the prayse of prowesse more doth marre,
Then fowle reuenging rage, and base contentious iarre.

But louely concord, and most sacred peace xxxi
Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds;
Weake she makes[514] strong, and strong thing does increace,
Till it the pitch of highest prayse exceeds:
Braue be her warres, and honorable deeds,
By which she triumphes ouer ire and pride,
And winnes an Oliue girlond for her meeds:
Be therefore, O my deare Lords, pacifide,
And this misseeming discord meekely lay aside.

Her gracious wordes their rancour did appall, xxxii
And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests,
That downe they let their cruell weapons fall,
And lowly did abase their loftie crests
To her faire presence, and discrete behests.
Then she began a treatie to procure,
And stablish termes betwixt both their requests,
That as a law for euer should endure;
Which to obserue in word of knights they did assure.

Which to confirme, and fast to bind their league, xxxiii
After their wearie sweat and bloudy toile,
She them besought, during their quiet treague,
Into her lodging to repaire a while,
To rest themselues, and grace to reconcile.
They soone consent: so forth with her they fare,
Where they are well receiu’d, and made to spoile
Themselues of soiled armes, and to prepare
Their minds to pleasure, and their mouthes to dainty fare.

And those two froward sisters, their faire loues xxxiv
Came with them eke, all were they wondrous loth,
And fained cheare, as for the time behoues,
But could not colour yet so well the troth,
But that their natures bad appeard in both:
For both did at their second sister grutch,
And inly grieue, as doth an hidden moth
The inner garment fret, not th’vtter touch;
One thought their[515] cheare too litle, th’other thought too mutch.

_Elissa_ (so the eldest hight) did deeme xxxv
Such entertainment base, ne ought would eat,
Ne ought would speake, but euermore did seeme
As discontent for want of merth or meat;
No solace could her Paramour intreat
Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliance,
But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat,
She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunce,
Vnworthy of faire Ladies comely gouernaunce.

But young _Perissa_ was of other mind, xxxvi
Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light,
And quite contrary to her sisters kind;
No measure in her mood, no rule of right,
But poured out in pleasure and delight;
In wine and meats she flowd aboue the bancke,
And in excesse exceeded her owne might;
In sumptuous tire she ioyd her selfe to prancke,
But of her loue too lauish (litle haue she thancke.)

Fast[516] by her side did sit the bold _Sans-loy_, xxxvii
Fit mate for such a mincing mineon,
Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding ioy;
Might not be found a franker franion,
Of her lewd parts to make companion;
But _Huddibras_, more like a Malecontent,
Did see and grieue at his bold fashion;
Hardly could he endure his hardiment,
Yet still he sat, and inly did him selfe torment.

Betwixt them both the faire _Medina_ sate xxxviii
With sober grace, and goodly carriage:
With equall measure she did moderate
The strong extremities of their outrage;
That forward paire she euer would asswage,
When they would striue dew reason to exceed;
But that same froward twaine would accourage,
And of her plenty adde vnto their need:
So kept she them in order, and her selfe in heed.

Thus fairely she attempered her feast, xxxix
And pleasd them all with meete satietie,
At last when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,
She _Guyon_ deare besought of curtesie,
To tell from whence he came through ieopardie,
And whither now on new aduenture bound.
Who with bold grace, and comely grauitie,
Drawing to him the eyes of all around,
From lofty siege began these words aloud to sound.

This thy demaund, O Lady, doth reuiue xl
Fresh memory in me of that great Queene,
Great and most glorious virgin Queene aliue,
That with her soueraigne powre, and scepter shene
All Faery lond does peaceably[517] sustene.
In widest Ocean she her throne does reare,
That ouer all the earth it may be seene;
As morning Sunne her beames dispredden cleare,
And in her face faire peace, and mercy doth appeare.

In her the richesse of all heauenly grace[518] xli
In chiefe degree are heaped vp on hye:
And all that else this worlds enclosure bace[519]
Hath great or glorious in mortall eye,[520]
Adornes the person of her Maiestie;
That men beholding so great excellence,
And rare perfection in mortalitie,
Do her adore with sacred reuerence,
As th’Idole of her makers great magnificence.

To her I homage and my seruice owe, xlii
In number of the noblest knights on ground,
Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestowe
Order of _Maydenhead_, the most renownd,
That may this day in all the world be found:[521]
An yearely solemne feast she wontes to make[522]
The day that first doth lead the yeare around;
To which all knights of worth and courage bold
Resort, to heare of straunge aduentures to be told.

There this old Palmer shewed himselfe that day, xliii
And to that mighty Princesse did complaine
Of grieuous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay
Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,
Whereof he crau’d redresse. My Soueraine,
Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes
Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,
Eftsoones deuisd redresse for such annoyes;
Me all vnfit for so great purpose she employes.

Now hath faire _Phœbe_ with her siluer face xliv
Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,
Sith last I left that honorable place,
In which her royall presence is †introld[523];
Ne euer shall I rest in house nor hold,
Till I that false _Acrasia_ haue wonne;
Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to be told,[524]
I witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne,
Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne.

Tell on, faire Sir, said she, that dolefull tale, xlv
From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,
That we may pitty such vnhappy bale,
And learne from pleasures poyson to abstaine:
Ill by ensample good doth often gayne.
Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,
And told the storie of the mortall payne,
Which _Mordant_ and _Amauia_ did rew;
As with lamenting eyes him selfe did lately vew.

Night was far spent, and now in _Ocean_ deepe xlvi
_Orion_, flying fast from hissing snake,
His flaming head did hasten for to steepe,
When of his pitteous tale he end did make;
Whilest with delight of that he wisely spake,
Those guestes beguiled, did beguile their eyes
Of kindly sleepe, that did them ouertake.
At last when they had markt the chaunged skyes,
They wist their houre was spent; then each to rest him hyes.

FOOTNOTES:

[490] Arg. 1 _clensd_, _1590 &c._

[491] 3 _Extremities_: _1590 &c._

[492] iv 3 lieu] loue _sugg. Church_

[493] 5 hat’th] hat’h _1590_

[494] v 3 hard] hart _1590_

[495] vi 9 to _om. 1590_: _corr. F. E._

[496] vii 7 chace] pray _sugg. Collier_. _Cf._ II ii 42, II iii 28 _&c._

[497] viii 3 set] sate _1609_

[498] ix 1 whose] those _1596_, _1609_

[499] 8 be] he _1596_

[500] xii 7 seas, _1590_, _1596_

[501] 8 fame] frame _1590_

[502] xiii 5 strifefull _1609_

[503] xv 8 brayded _1609_

[504] xx 6 seat, _1590 &c._

[505] xxi 1 cald] calth _1596_, _1609_

[506] 2 hand] hond _1609_

[507] xxiii 2 boldly] bloudy _1596_: boldy _1609_

[508] xxviii 2 their] her _1590_

[509] champion _1596_, _1609_

[510] xxix 2 _Erinnys_ in your noble harts, _1590_, _1596_

[511] 6 thrust] thurst _1609_

[512] xxx 1 there] their _1590_, _1596_

[513] 3 bloodguiltnesse _1590_: bloud guiltnesse _1596_

[514] xxxi 3 make _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[515] xxxiv 9 thought their] though ther _1590_

[516] xxxvii 1 Fast] First _1590 &c._: _corr. F. E._

[517] xl 5 peaceable _1596_, _1609_

[518] xli 1 grace, _1590_, _1596_

[519] 3 bace, _1590_, _1596_

[520] 4 eye. _1596_

[521] xlii 5 found, _1590_, _1596_

[522] 6 make] hold _conj. edd._ _Cf._ II ii 7, iii 28, _&c._

[523] xliv 4 introld] entrold _1590_: enrold _conj. edd._

[524] 7 told _1596_

_Cant. III._

_Vaine Braggadocchio getting Guyons
horse is made the scorne
Of knighthood trew, and is of fayre
Belphœbe fowle forlorne._
]

Soone as the morrow faire with purple beames i
Disperst the shadowes of the mistie night,
And _Titan_ playing on the eastern streames,
Gan cleare the deawy ayre with springing light,
Sir _Guyon_ mindfull of his vow yplight,
Vprose from drowsie couch, and him addrest
Vnto the iourney which he had behight:
His puissaunt armes about his noble brest,
And many-folded shield he bound about his wrest.

Then taking _Congé_ of that virgin pure, ii
The bloudy-handed babe vnto her truth
Did earnestly commit, and her coniure,
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,
And all that gentle noriture ensu’th:
And that so soone as ryper yeares he raught[525],
He might for memorie of that dayes ruth,
Be called _Ruddymane_, and thereby taught,
T’auenge his Parents death on them, that had it wrought.

So forth he far’d, as now befell, on foot, iii
Sith his good steed is lately from him gone;
Patience perforce; helpelesse what may it boot
To fret for anger, or for griefe to mone?
His Palmer now shall foot no more alone:
So fortune wrought, as vnder greene woods syde
He lately heard that dying Lady grone,
He left his steed without, and speare besyde,
And rushed in on foot to ayd her, ere she dyde.

The whiles a losell wandring by the way, iv
One that to bountie neuer cast his mind,
Ne thought of honour euer did assay
His baser brest, but in his kestrell kind
A pleasing vaine of glory vaine[526] did find,
To which his flowing toung, and troublous spright
Gaue him great ayd, and made him more inclind:
He that braue steed there finding ready dight,
Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full light.

Now gan his hart all swell in iollitie, v
And of him selfe great hope and helpe conceiu’d,
That puffed vp with smoke of vanitie,
And with selfe-loued personage deceiu’d,
He gan to hope, of men to be receiu’d
For such, as he him thought, or faine would bee:
But for in court gay portaunce he perceiu’d,
And gallant shew to be in greatest gree,
Eftsoones to court he cast t’auaunce[527] his first degree.

And by the way he chaunced to espy vi
One sitting idle on a sunny bancke,
To whom auaunting in great brauery,
As Peacocke, that his painted plumes doth prancke,
He smote his courser in the trembling flancke,
And to him threatned his hart-thrilling speare:
The seely man seeing him ryde so rancke,
And ayme at him, fell flat to ground for feare,
And crying Mercy lowd, his pitious hands gan reare.

Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous prowd, vii
Through fortune of his first aduenture faire,
And with big thundring voyce reuyld him lowd;
Vile Caytiue, vassall of dread and despaire,
Vnworthie of the commune[528] breathed aire,
Why liuest thou, dead dog, a lenger day,
And doest not vnto death thy selfe prepaire.
Dye, or thy selfe my captiue yield for ay;
Great fauour I thee graunt, for aunswere thus to stay.

Hold, O deare Lord, hold your dead-doing hand, viii
Then loud he cryde, I am your humble thrall.
Ah wretch (quoth he) thy destinies withstand
My wrathfull will, and do for mercy call.
I giue thee life: therefore prostrated fall,
And kisse my stirrup; that thy homage bee.
The Miser threw him selfe, as an Offall,
Streight at his foot in base humilitee,
And cleeped him his liege, to hold of him in fee.

So happy peace they made and faire accord: ix
Eftsoones this liege-man gan to wexe more bold,
And when he felt the folly of his Lord,
In his owne kind he gan him selfe vnfold:
For he was wylie witted, and growne old
In cunning sleights and practick knauery.
From[529] that day forth he cast for to vphold
His idle humour with fine flattery[530],
And blow the bellowes to his swelling vanity.

_Trompart_ fit man for _Braggadocchio_[531], x
To serue at court in view of vaunting eye;
Vaine-glorious man, when fluttring wind does blow
In his light wings, is lifted vp to skye:
The scorne of knighthood and trew cheualrye,
To thinke without desert of gentle deed,
And noble worth to be aduaunced hye:
Such prayse is shame; but honour vertues meed
Doth beare the fairest flowre in honorable seed.

So forth they pas, a well consorted paire, xi
Till that at length with _Archimage_ they meet:
Who seeing one that shone in armour faire,
On goodly courser[532] thundring with his feet,
Eftsoones supposed him a person meet,
Of his reuenge to make the instrument:
For since the _Redcrosse_ knight he earst did weet,
To beene with _Guyon_ knit in one consent,
The ill, which earst to him, he now to _Guyon_ ment.

And comming close to _Trompart_ gan inquere xii
Of him, what mighty warriour that mote bee,
That rode in golden sell with single spere,
But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee.
He is a great aduenturer, (said he)
That hath his sword through hard assay forgone,
And now hath vowd, till he auenged bee,
Of that despight, neuer to wearen none;
That speare is him enough to doen a thousand grone.

Th’enchaunter greatly ioyed in the vaunt, xiii
And weened well ere long his will to win,
And both his foen with equall foyle to daunt.
Tho to him louting lowly, did begin
To plaine of wrongs, which had committed bin
By _Guyon_, and by that false _Redcrosse_ knight,
Which two through treason and deceiptfull gin,
Had slaine Sir _Mordant_, and his Lady bright:
That mote him honour win, to wreake so foule despight.

Therewith all suddeinly he seemd enraged, xiv
And threatned death with dreadfull countenaunce,
As if their liues had in his hand beene gaged;
And with stiffe force shaking his mortall launce,
To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce,
Thus said; Old man, great sure shalbe thy meed,
If where those knights for feare of dew vengeaunce
Do lurke, thou certainly to me areed,
That I may wreake on them their hainous hatefull deed.

Certes, my Lord, (said he) that shall I soone, xv
And giue you eke good helpe to their decay,
But mote I wisely you aduise to doon;
Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay
Your selfe of sword before that bloudy day:
For they be two the prowest knights on ground,
And oft approu’d in many hard assay,
And eke of surest steele, that may be found,
Do arme your selfe against that day, them to confound.

Dotard (said he) let be thy deepe aduise; xvi
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,
And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise,
Else neuer should thy iudgement be so fraile,
To measure manhood by the sword or maile.
Is not enough foure quarters of a man,
Withouten sword or shield, an host to quaile?
Thou little wotest, what this right hand can:
Speake they, which haue beheld the battailes, which it wan.

The man was much abashed at his boast; xvii
Yet well he wist, that who so would contend
With either of those knights on euen coast,
Should need of all his armes, him to defend;
Yet feared least his boldnesse should offend,
When _Braggadocchio_ said, Once I did sweare,
When with one sword seuen knights I brought to end,
Thence forth in battell neuer sword to beare,
But it were that, which noblest knight on earth doth weare.

Perdie Sir knight, said then th’enchaunter bliue, xviii
That shall I shortly purchase to your hond:
For now the best and noblest knight aliue
Prince _Arthur_ is, that wonnes in Faerie lond;
He hath a sword, that flames like burning brond.
The same by my deuice[533] I vndertake
Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.
At which bold word that boaster gan to quake,
And wondred in his mind, what mote that monster make.

He stayd not for more bidding, but away xix
Was suddein vanished out of his sight:
The Northerne wind his wings did broad display
At his commaund, and reared him vp light
From off the earth to take his aerie flight.
They lookt about, but no where could espie
Tract of his foot: then dead through great affright
They both nigh were, and each bad other flie:
Both fled attonce, ne euer backe returned eie.

Till that they come vnto a forrest greene, xx
In which they shrowd themselues from causelesse feare;
Yet feare them followes still, where so they beene,
Each trembling leafe, and whistling wind they heare,
As ghastly bug their haire on end does[534] reare:
Yet both doe striue their fearfulnesse to faine.
At last they heard a horne, that shrilled cleare
Throughout the wood, that ecchoed againe,
And made the forrest ring, as it would riue in twaine.

Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush; xxi
With noyse whereof he from his loftie steed
Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush,
To hide his coward head from dying dreed.
But _Trompart_ stoutly stayd to taken heed[535]
Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped forth
A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed,
That seemd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance, borne of heauenly birth.

Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not, xxii
But heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew,
Cleare as the skie, withouten blame or blot,
Through goodly mixture of complexions dew;
And in her cheekes the vermeill red did shew
Like roses in a bed of lillies shed,
The which ambrosiall odours from them threw,
And gazers sense with double pleasure fed,
Hable[536] to heale the sicke, and to reuiue the ded.

In her faire eyes two liuing lamps did flame, xxiii
Kindled aboue at th’heauenly makers light,
And darted fyrie beames out of the same,
So passing persant[537], and so wondrous bright,
That quite bereau’d the rash beholders sight:
In them the blinded god his lustfull fire
To kindle oft assayd, but had no might;
For with dredd[538] Maiestie, and awfull ire,
She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.

Her iuorie forhead, full of bountie braue, xxiv
Like a broad table did it selfe dispred,
For Loue his loftie triumphes to engraue,
And write the battels of his great godhed:
All good and honour might therein be red:
For there their dwelling was. And when she spake,
Sweet words, like dropping honny she did shed,
And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake
A siluer sound, that heauenly musicke seemd to make.

Vpon her eyelids many Graces sate, xxv
Vnder the shadow of her euen browes,
Working belgards, and amorous retrate,
And euery one her with a grace endowes:
And euery one with meekenesse to her bowes.
So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,
And soueraine moniment of mortall vowes,
How shall fraile pen descriue her heauenly face,
For feare through want of skill her beautie to disgrace?

So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire xxvi
She seemd, when she presented was to sight,
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,
All in a silken Camus lylly whight,
Purfled vpon with many a folded plight,
Which all aboue besprinckled was throughout[539]
With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,
Like twinckling starres, and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fringe

Below her ham her weed did somewhat traine, xxvii
And her streight legs most brauely were embayld
In gilden buskins of costly Cordwaine,
All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld
With curious antickes, and full faire aumayld:
Before they fastned were vnder her knee
In a rich Iewell, and therein entrayld
The ends[540] of all their[541] knots, that none might see,
How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.

Like two faire marble pillours they were[542] seene, xxviii
Which doe the temple of the Gods support,
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festiuall resort;
Those same with stately grace, and princely port
She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,
But with the wooddie Nymphes when she did play[543],
Or when the flying Libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.

And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held, xxix
And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,
Stuft with steele-headed darts, wherewith she queld
The saluage beastes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest, and did diuide
Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May
Now little gan to swell, and being tide,
Through her thin weed their places only signifide.

Her yellow lockes crisped, like golden wyre, xxx
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,
They waued like a penon wide dispred[544],
And low behinde her backe were scattered:
And whether art it were, or heedlesse hap,
As through the flouring forrest rash she fled,
In her rude haires sweet flowres themselues did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaues and blossomes did enwrap.

Such as _Diana_ by the sandie shore xxxi
Of swift _Eurotas_, or on _Cynthus_ greene,
Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,
Wandreth alone with bow and arrowes keene,
To seeke her game: Or as that famous Queene
Of _Amazons_, whom _Pyrrhus_ did destroy,
The day that first of _Priame_ she was seene,
Did shew her selfe in great triumphant ioy,
To succour the weake state of sad afflicted _Troy_.

Such when as hartlesse _Trompart_ her did vew, xxxii
He was dismayed in his coward mind,
And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,
Or fly away, or bide alone behind:
Both feare and hope he in her face did find,
When she at last him spying thus bespake;
Hayle Groome; didst not thou see a bleeding Hind,
Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?
If thou didst, tell me, that I may her ouertake.

Wherewith reviu’d, this answere forth he threw; xxxiii
O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)
For neither doth thy face terrestriall shew,
Nor voyce sound mortall; I auow to thee,
Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.
But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,
To weet, which of the Gods I shall thee name,
That vnto thee due worship I may rightly frame.

To whom she thus; but ere her words ensewed, xxxiv
Vnto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,
In which vaine _Braggadocchio_ was mewed,
And saw it stirre: she left her percing launce,
And towards gan a deadly shaft aduaunce,
In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,
_Trompart_ forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying, O what euer heauenly powre,
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.

O stay thy hand,[545] for yonder is no game xxxv
For thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,
But loe my Lord, my liege, whose warlike name[546]
Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;
And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.
She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,
Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,
And standing stoutly vp, his loftie crest
Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest.

As fearefull fowle, that long in secret caue xxxvi
For dread of soaring hauke her selfe hath hid,
Not caring how, her silly life to saue,
She her gay painted plumes disorderid,
Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid,
Peepes foorth,[547] and soone renewes her natiue pride;
She gins her feathers foule disfigured
Proudly to prune, and set on euery side,
So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.

So when her goodly visage he beheld, xxxvii
He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewed
Those deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,
Soone into other fits he was transmewed,
Till she to him her gratious speach renewed;
All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,
As all the like, which honour haue pursewed
Through deedes of armes and prowesse martiall;
All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.

To whom he thus; O fairest vnder skie, xxxviii
True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,
That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.
Therein haue I[548] spent all my youthly daies,
And many battailes fought, and many fraies
Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,
Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise
Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound
In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.

But what art thou, O Ladie, which doest raunge xxxix
In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is,
And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,
Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis
And all delight does raigne, much more then this?
There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee,
And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;
There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee.

Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she) xl
Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis,
Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,
And in obliuion euer buried is:
Where ease abounds, yt’s eath to doe amis;
But who his limbs with labours, and his mind
Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis.
Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind
Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honor soonest find.

In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell, xli
And will be found with perill and with paine;
Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,
Vnto her happie mansion attaine:
Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,
And wakefull watches euer to abide:
But easie is the way, and passage plaine
To pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide,
And day and night her dores to all stand open wide.

In Princes court, The rest she would haue said, xlii
But that the foolish man, fild with delight
Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid,
And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight,
Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light,
Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.
With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright
Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:
So turned her about, and fled away apace.

Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood, xliii
And grieued[549] at her flight; yet durst he not
Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood;
Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot:
Ne car’d he greatly for her presence vaine,
But turning said to _Trompart_, What foule blot
Is this to knight, that Ladie should againe
Depart to woods vntoucht, and leaue so proud disdaine?

Perdie (said _Trompart_) let her passe at will, xliv
Least by her presence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)
But that she is some powre celestiall?
For whiles she spake, her great words did apall
My feeble courage, and my hart oppresse,
That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.
And I (said _Braggadocchio_) thought no lesse,
When first I heard her horne sound with such ghastlinesse.

For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue xlv
Me giuen by eternall destinie,
That earthly thing may not my courage braue
Dismay with feare, or cause one[550] foot to flie,
But either hellish feends, or powres on hie:
Which was the cause, when earst that horne I heard,
Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,
I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;
But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard.

But now for feare of worse, that may betide, xlvi
Let vs soone hence depart. They soone agree;
So to his steed he got, and gan to ride,
As one vnfit therefore, that all might see
He had not trayned bene in cheualree.
Which well that valiant courser did discerne;
For he despysd to tread in dew degree,
But chaufd and fom’d, with courage fierce and sterne,
And to be easd of that base burden still did erne[551].

FOOTNOTES:

[525] ii 6 raught] rought _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[526] iv 5 glory vaine] glory he _1590_

[527] v 9 aduaunce _1590_

[528] vii 5 common _1609_

[529] ix 7 From] For _1596_

[530] 8 slattery _1590_

[531] x 1 _Braggadochio_ _1590 &c._

[532] xi 4 courser] course _1590_

[533] xviii 6 deuice] aduise _1596_, _1609_

[534] xx 5 does vnto them affeare _1590_: vnto _corr. to_ greatly _in F. E._

[535] xxi 5 heed, _1590_, _1596_

[536] xxii 9 Able _1609 passim_

[537] xxiii 4 pearceant _1609_

[538] 8 drad _1609_

[539] xxvi 6 throughout, _1590 &c._

[540] xxvii 8 end _1609_

[541] their] the _1590_

[542] xxviii 1 were] did _1590_: _corr. F. E._

[543] 7 play] sport _conj. ed._ _Cf._ II ii 7, 42, _&c._

[544] xxx 4 disspred _1609_

[545] xxxv 1 hand _1596_: hand: _1609_

[546] 3 name, _1590 &c._

[547] xxxvi 6 forth, _1590_

[548] xxxviii 4 haue I] I haue _1590_

[549] xliii 2 greiued _1596_

[550] xlv 4 one] on _1590_, _1596_

[551] xlvi 9 yerne _1609_

_Cant. IIII._

_Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,
and stops Occasion:
Deliuers Phedon[552], and therefore
by Strife[553] is rayld vpon._
]

In braue pursuit of honorable deed, i
There is I know not what[554] great difference
Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,
Which vnto things of valorous pretence
Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;
As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,
But chiefly skill to ride, seemes a science
Proper to gentle bloud; some others faine
To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.

But he the rightfull owner of that steed, ii
Who well could menage and subdew his pride,
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,
With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide;
Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.
But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse
Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,
He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,
Teach him the weake to strengthen, and the strong suppresse.

It fortuned forth faring on his way, iii
He saw from farre, or seemed for to see
Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,
Whereto he drew in haste it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,
A handsome stripling with great crueltee,
Whom sore he bett, and gor’d with many a wound,
That cheekes with teares, and sides with bloud did all abound.

And him behind, a wicked Hag did stalke, iv
In ragged robes, and filthy disaray,
Her other leg was lame, that she no’te walke,[555]
But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay;
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,
Grew all afore, and loosely hong vnrold,
But all behind was bald, and worne away,
That none thereof could euer taken hold,
And eke her face ill fauourd, full of wrinckles old.

And euer as she went, her tongue did walke v
In foule reproch, and termes of vile despight,
Prouoking him by her outrageous talke,
To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight;
Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite,
Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,
Withouten which she could not go vpright;
Ne any euill meanes she did forbeare,
That might him moue to wrath, and indignation reare.

The noble _Guyon_ mou’d with great remorse, vi
Approching, first the Hag did thrust away,
And after adding more impetuous forse,
His mightie hands did on the madman lay,
And pluckt him backe; who all on fire streight way,
Against him turning all his fell intent,
With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,
And smot, and bit, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,
And did he wist not what in his auengement.

And sure he was a man of mickle might, vii
Had he had gouernance, it well to guide:
But when the franticke fit inflamd his spright,
His force was vaine, and strooke more often wide,
Then at the aymed marke, which he had eide:
And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt vnwares,
Whilst reason blent through passion, nought descride,
But as a blindfold Bull at randon fares,
And where he hits, nought knowes, and whom he hurts, nought cares.

His rude assault and rugged handeling viii
Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe
In faire defence and goodly menaging
Of armes was wont to fight, yet nathemoe
Was he abashed now not fighting so,
But more enfierced through his currish play,
Him sternely grypt, and haling to and fro,
To ouerthrow him strongly did assay,
But ouerthrew himselfe vnwares, and lower lay.

And being downe the villein sore did beat, ix
And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face:
And eke the Hag with many a bitter threat,
Still cald vpon to kill him in the place.
With whose reproch and odious menace
The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart,
Knit all his forces, and gan soone vnbrace
His grasping hold: so lightly did vpstart,
And drew his deadly weapon, to maintaine his part.

Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly cryde, x
Not so, O _Guyon_, neuer thinke that so
That Monster can be maistred or destroyd:
He is not[556], ah, he is not such a foe,
As steele can wound, or strength can ouerthroe.
That same is _Furor_, cursed cruell wight,
That vnto knighthood workes much shame and woe;
And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight
_Occasion_, the root of all wrath and despight.

With her, who so will raging _Furor_ tame, xi
Must first begin, and well her amenage:
First her restraine from her reprochfull blame,
And euill meanes, with which she doth enrage
Her franticke sonne, and kindles his courage,
Then when she is withdrawen, or strong withstood,
It’s eath his idle furie to asswage,
And calme the tempest of his passion wood;
The bankes are ouerflowen, when stopped is the flood.

Therewith Sir _Guyon_ left his first emprise, xii
And turning to that woman, fast her hent
By the hoare lockes, that hong before her eyes,
And to the ground her threw: yet n’ould she stent
Her bitter rayling and foule reuilement,
But still prouokt her sonne to wreake her wrong;
But nathelesse he did her still torment,
And catching hold of her vngratious tong[557],
Thereon an yron lock[558] did fasten firme and strong.

Then when as vse of speach was from her reft, xiii
With her two crooked handes she signes did make,
And beckned him, the last helpe she had left:
But he that last left helpe away did take,
And both her hands fast bound vnto a stake,
That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flie
Full fast away, and did her quite forsake;
But _Guyon_ after him in haste did hie,
And soone him ouertooke in sad perplexitie.

In his strong armes he stiffely him embraste, xiv
Who him gainstriuing, nought at all preuaild:
For all his power was vtterly defaste,
And furious fits at earst quite weren quaild:
Oft he re’nforst, and oft his forces fayld,
Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour slacke.
Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hayld,
And both his hands fast bound behind his backe,
And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke.

With hundred yron chaines he did him bind, xv
And hundred knots that did him sore constraine:
Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind,
And grimly gnash, threatning reuenge in vaine;
His burning eyen, whom bloudie strakes did staine,
Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fire,
And more for ranck despight, then for great paine,
Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire,
And bit his tawny beard to shew his raging ire.

Thus when as _Guyon_ _Furor_ had captiu’d, xvi
Turning about he saw that wretched Squire,
Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu’d,
Lying on ground, all soild with bloud and mire:
Whom when as he perceiued to respire,
He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dresse.
Being at last recured, he gan inquire,
What hard mishap him brought to such distresse,
And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchednesse.

With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes, xvii
Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can shun the hap,
That hidden lyes vnwares him to surpryse?[559]
Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap
The man most warie in her whelming lap.
So me weake wretch, of many weakest one[560],
Vnweeting, and vnware of such mishap,
She brought to mischiefe through occasion[561],
Where this same wicked villein did me light vpon[562].

It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse xviii
Of all my sorrow, and of these sad teares,
With whom from tender dug of commune nourse,
Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares
More rype vs reason lent to chose our Peares,
Our selues in league of vowed loue we knit:
In which we long time without gealous feares,
Or[563] faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit;
And for my part I vow, dissembled not a whit.

It was my fortune commune to that age, xix
To loue a Ladie faire of great degree,
The which was borne of noble parentage,
And set in highest seat of dignitee,
Yet seemd no lesse to loue, then loued to bee:
Long I her seru’d, and found her faithfull still,
Ne euer thing could cause vs disagree:
Loue that two harts makes one,[564] makes eke one will:
Each stroue to please, and others pleasure to fulfill.

My friend, hight _Philemon_, I did partake[565] xx
Of all my loue and all my priuitie;
Who greatly ioyous seemed for my sake,
And gratious to that Ladie, as to mee,
Ne euer wight, that mote so welcome bee,
As he to her, withouten blot or blame,
Ne euer thing, that she could thinke or see,
But vnto him she would impart the same:
O wretched man, that would abuse so gentle Dame.

At last such grace I found, and meanes I wrought, xxi
That I that Ladie to my spouse had wonne;
Accord of friends, consent of parents sought,
Affiance made, my happinesse begonne,
There wanted nought but few rites to be donne,
Which mariage make; that day too farre did seeme:
Most ioyous man, on whom the shining Sunne[566]
Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme,
And that my falser friend did no lesse ioyous deeme.

But ere[567] that wished day his beame disclosd, xxii
He either enuying my toward good,
Or of himselfe to treason ill disposd,[568]
One day vnto me came in friendly mood,
And told for secret how he vnderstood
That Ladie whom I had to me assynd,
Had both distaind her honorable blood,
And eke the faith, which she to me did bynd;
And therfore wisht me stay, till I more truth should fynd.

The gnawing anguish and sharpe gelosy, xxiii
Which his sad speech infixed in my brest,
Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly,
That my engreeued mind could find no rest,
Till that the truth thereof I did outwrest,
And him besought by that same sacred band
Betwixt vs both, to counsell me the best.
He then with solemne oath and plighted hand
Assur’d, ere long the truth to let me vnderstand.

Ere long with like againe he boorded mee, xxiv
Saying, he now had boulted all the floure,
And that it was a groome of base degree,
Which of my loue was partner Paramoure:
Who vsed in a darkesome inner bowre
Her oft to meet: which better to approue,
He promised to bring me at that howre,
When I should see, that would me nearer moue,
And driue me to withdraw my blind abused loue.

This gracelesse man for furtherance of his guile, xxv
Did court the handmayd of my Lady deare,
Who glad t’embosome his affection vile,
Did all she might, more pleasing to appeare.
One day to worke her to his will more neare,
He woo’d her thus: _Pryene_ (so she hight)
What great despight doth fortune to thee beare,
Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright,
That it should not deface all others lesser light?

But if she had her least helpe to thee lent, xxvi
T’adorne thy forme according thy desart,
Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone haue blent,
And staynd their prayses with thy least good part;
Ne should faire _Claribell_ with all her art,
Though she thy Lady be, approch thee neare:
For proofe thereof, this euening, as thou art,
Aray thy selfe in her most gorgeous geare,
That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.

The Maiden proud through prayse, and mad through loue xxvii
Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe arayd,
The whiles to me the treachour did remoue
His craftie engin, and as he had sayd,
Me leading, in a secret corner layd,
The sad spectatour of my Tragedie;
Where left, he went, and his owne false part playd,
Disguised like that groome of base degree,
Whom he had feignd th’abuser of my loue to bee.

Eftsoones he came vnto th’appointed place, xxviii
And with him brought _Pryene_,[569] rich arayd,
In _Claribellaes_ clothes. Her proper face
I not descerned[570] in that darkesome shade,
But weend it was my loue, with whom he playd.
Ah God, what horrour and tormenting griefe
My hart, my hands, mine eyes, and all assayd?
Me liefer were ten thousand deathes[571] priefe,
Then wound of gealous worme, and shame of such repriefe.

I home returning, fraught with fowle despight, xxix
And chawing vengeance all the way I went,
Soone as my loathed loue appeard in sight,
With wrathfull hand I slew her innocent;
That after soone I dearely did lament:
For when the cause of that outrageous deede
Demaunded, I made plaine and euident,
Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale did breede,
Confest, how _Philemon_ her wrought to chaunge her weede.

Which when I heard, with horrible affright xxx
And hellish fury all enragd, I sought
Vpon my selfe that vengeable despight
To punish: yet it better first I thought,
To wreake my wrath on him, that first it wrought.
To _Philemon_, false faytour _Philemon_
I cast to pay, that I so dearely bought;
Of deadly drugs I gaue him drinke anon,
And washt away his guilt with guiltie potion.

Thus heaping crime on crime, and griefe on griefe, xxxi
To losse of loue adioyning losse of frend,
I meant to purge both with a third mischiefe,
And in my woes beginner it to end:
That was _Pryene_; she did first offend,
She last should smart: with which cruell intent,
When I at her my murdrous blade did bend,
She fled away with ghastly dreriment,
And I pursewing my fell purpose, after went.

Feare gaue her wings, and rage enforst my flight; xxxii
Through woods and plaines so long I did her chace,
Till this mad man, whom your victorious might
Hath now fast bound, me met in middle space,
As I her, so he me pursewd apace,
And shortly ouertooke: I,[572] breathing yre,
Sore chauffed at my stay in such a cace,
And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre;
Which kindled once, his mother did more rage inspyre.