By view of her he ginneth to revive His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse; And calls to mind his portraiture alive, How fair he was, and yet not fair to this; And how he slew with glancing dart amiss A gentle hind, the which the lovely boy Did love as life, above all worldly bliss: For grief whereof the lad n'ould after joy; But pin'd away in anguish and self-will'd annoy.

The woody nymphs, fair Hamadryades, Her to behold do thither run apace; And all the troop of light-foot Naiades Flock all about to see her lovely face: But, when they viewéd have her heavenly grace, They envy her in their malicious mind, And fly away for fear of foul disgrace: But all the Satyrs scorn their woody kind, And henceforth nothing fair, but her, on earth they find.

Glad of such luck, the luckless lucky maid
Did her content to please their feeble eyes;
And long time with that salvage people stay'd,
To gather breath in many miseries.

During which time her gentle wit she plies,
To teach them truth, which worshipt her in
vain,

And made her th' image of idolatries:
But, when their bootless zeal she did restrain
From her own worship, they her ass would wor-
ship fain.

It fortunéd, a noble warlike knight
By just occasion to that forest came
To seek his kindred, and the lineage right,
From whence he took his well-deservéd name :
He had in arms abroad won muchell1 fame,
And fill'd far lands with glory of his might;
Plain, faithful, true, and enemy of shame,
And ever lov'd to fight for ladies' right:
But in vain glorious frays he little did delight.

A Satyr's son yborn in forest wild,
By strange adventure as it did betide,
And there begotten of a lady mild,
Fair Thyamis the daughter of Labryde:
That was in sacred bands of wedlock tied
To Therion, a loose unruly swain,

Who had more joy to range the forest wide, And chase the salvage beast with busy pain, Than serve his lady's love, and waste in pleasures vain.

The forlorn maid did with love's longing burn, And could not lack her lover's company; But to the wood she goes, to serve her turn, And seek her spouse, that from her still does fly, And follows other game and venery: A Satyr chanc'd her wand'ring for to find; And kindling coals of lust in brutish eye, The royal links of wedlock did unbind, And made her person thrall unto his beastly kind.

So long in secret cabin there he held
Her captive to his sensual desire;
Till that with timely fruit her belly swell'd,
And bore a boy unto that salvage sire:

1 Much.

Then home he suffer'd her for to retire ; For ransom leaving him the late-born child : Whom, till to riper years he gan aspire, He nousled up in life and manners wild, Amongst wild beasts and woods, from laws of men exil'd.

For all he taught the tender imp, was but To banish cowardice and bastard fear: His trembling hand he would him force to put Upon the lion and the rugged bear; [tear; And from the she-bear's teats her whelps to And eke wild roaring bulls he would him make To tame, and ride their backs not made to bear; And the roebucks in flight to overtake: That every beast for fear of him did fly and quake.

Thereby so fearless and so fell he grew,
That his own sire and master of his guise,
Did often tremble at his horrid view;
And oft, for dread of hurt, would him advise
The angry beasts not rashly to despise,
Nor too much to provoke; for he would learn
The lion stoop to him in lowly wise,

(A lesson hard,) and make the libbard stern Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did yearn.

And, for to make his power approved more, Wild beasts in iron yokes he would compel; The spotted panther, and the tuskéd boar, The pardale swift, and the tigré cruell, The antelope and wolf, both fierce and fell; And them constrain in equal team to draw. Such joy he had their stubborn hearts to quell, And sturdy courage tame with dreadful awe; That his behest they fearéd, as a tyrant's law.

His loving mother came upon a day. Unto the woods, to see her little son; And chanc'd unwares to meet him in the way, After his sports and cruel pastime done; When after him a lioness did run, That roaring all with rage, did loud requere Her children dear, whom he away had won: The lion whelps she saw how he did bear, And lull in rugged arms withouten childish fear.

The fearful dame all quakéd at the sight, And turning back gan fast to fly away; Until, with love revokt from vain affright, She hardly yet persuaded was to stay, And then to him these womanish words gan say; "Ah, Satyrane, my dearling and my joy, For love of me leave off this dreadful play; To dally thus with death is no fit toy: [boy." Go, find some other play-fellows, mine own sweet

In these and like delights of bloody game He trainéd was, till riper years he raught; And there abode, whilst any beast of name Walk'd in that forest, whom he had not taught To fear his force: and then his courage haught Desir'd of foreign foemen to be known, And far abroad for strange adventures sought; In which his might was never overthrown; But through all Faerie land his famous worth was blown.

2 Any spotted wild beast.

Yet evermore it was his manner fair, After long labors and adventures spent, Unto those native woods for to repair, To see his sire and offspring ancient. And now he thither came for like intent; Where he unwares the fairest Una found, Strange lady, in so strange habiliment, Teaching the Satyrs, which her sat around, True sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.

He wonder'd at her wisdom heav'nly rare, Whose like in women's wit he never knew; And, when her courteous deeds he did compare,

Gan her admire, and her sad sorrows rew, Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw, And joy'd to make proof of her cruelty On gentle dame, so hurtless and so true: Thenceforth he kept her goodly company, And learn'd her discipline of faith and verity.

But she, all vow'd unto the Redcross Knight, His wand'ring peril closely did lament, Ne in this new acquaintance could delight; But her dear heart with anguish did torment, And all her wit in secret counsels spent, How to escape. At last in privy wise To Satyrane she showed her intent; Who, glad to gain such favor, gan devise, How with that pensive maid he best might thence arise.

So on a day, when Satyrs all were gone
To do their service to Sylvanus old,
The gentle virgin, left behind alone,
He led away with courage stout and bold.
Too late it was to Satyrs to be told,
Or ever hope recover her again :

In vain he seeks that, having, cannot hold.
So fast he carried her with careful pain,
That they the woods are past, and come now to
the plain.

The better part now of the ling'ring day They travell'd had, whenas they far espied A weary wight forwand'ring by the way; And towards him they gan in haste to ride, To weet of news that did abroad betide, Or tidings of her Knight of the Redcross; But he, them spying, gan to turn aside For fear, as seem'd, or for some feignéd loss: More greedy they of news fast towards him do

cross.

A silly man, in simple weeds forworn, And soil'd with dust of the long dried way; His sandals were with toilsome travel torn, And face all tann'd with scorching sunny ray, As he had travell'd many a summer's day Through boiling sands of Araby and Ind; And in his hand a Jacob's staff, to stay His weary limbs upon; and eke behind His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.

The knight, approaching nigh, of him inquer'd
Tidings of war, and of adventures new;
But wars, nor new adventures, none he heard.
Then Una gan to ask, if aught he knew

And, drawing nigh him, said; "Ah! misborn elf,

In evil hour thy foes thee thither sent
Another's wrongs to wreak upon thy self:
Yet ill thou blamest me, for having blent
My name with guile and traitorous intent :
That Redcross Knight, perdie,' I never slew;
But had he been, where erst his arms were lent,
Th' enchanter vain his error should not rue:
But thou his error shalt, I hope, now proven true."

Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,
To thunder blows, and fiercely to assail
Each other, bent his enemy to quell;

That with their force they pierced both plate and mail,

And made wide furrows in their fleshes frail, That it would pity any living eye:

Large floods of blood adown their sides did raile; ?

But floods of blood could not them satisfy: Both hunger'd after death; both chose to win, or die.

So long they fight, and full revenge pursue,
That, fainting, each themselves to breathen let;
And, oft refreshéd, battle oft renew.
As when two boars, with rankling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret;
Till breathless both themselves aside retire,
Where, foaming wrath, their cruel tusks they
whet,
[spire;

And trample th' earth, the whiles they may reThen back to fight again, new breathéd and entire.

So fiercely, when these knights had breathéd once,

They gan to fight return; increasing more Their puissant force, and cruel rage at once, With heapéd strokes more hugely than before; That with their dreary wounds, and bloody gore,

They both deformed, scarcely could be known. By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore, Led with their noise which through the air was thrown, [had sown.

Arriv'd, where they in earth their fruitless blood

But that false pilgrim, which that leasing told, Being indeed old Archimage, did stay In secret shadow all this to behold; And much rejoicéd in their bloody fray: But, when he saw the damsel pass away, He left his stand, and her pursu'd apace, In hope to bring her to her last decay. But for to tell her lamentable case, And eke this battle's end, will need another place.

CANTO VII.

The Redcross Knight is captive made,
By giant proud opprest:

Prince Arthur meets with Una great-
ly with those news distrest.

WHAT man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,
As to descry the crafty cunning train,
By which Deceit doth mask in visor fair,
And cast her colors dyéd deep in grain
To seem like Truth whose shape she well can
fain,

And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,
The guiltless man with guile to entertain?
Great mistress of her art was that false dame,
The false Duessa, clokéd with Fidessa's name.

Who when, returning from the dreary Night,
She found not in that perilous House of
Pride,

Where she had left, the noble Redcross Knight,
Her hopéd prey; she would no longer bide,
But forth she went to seek him far and wide.
Ere long she found, whereas he weary sate
To rest himself, foreby a fountain side,
Disarméd all of iron-coated plate;

And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.

That, when the Knight he spied, he gan ad

vance

With huge force and insupportable maine," And towards him with dreadful fury prance; Who hapless, and eke hopeless, all in vain Did to him pace sad battle to darrayne, Disarm'd, disgraste," and inwardly dismay'd; And eke so faint in every joint and vein, Through that frail fountain, which him feeble made,

That scarcely could he wield his bootless single blade.

The giant strook so mainly merciless,
That could have overthrown a stoney tow'r;
And, were not heav'nly grace that did him
bless,

He had been powdred all, as thin as flour:
But he was wary of that deadly stowre,
And lightly leapt from underneath the blow :
Yet so exceeding was the villain's pow'r,
That with the wind it did him overthrow,
And all his senses stunned, that still he lay full
low.

As when that devilish iron engine, wrought In deepest hell, and fram'd by Furies' skill, With windy nitre and quick sulphur fraught, And ramm'd with bullet round, ordain'd to kill, Conceiveth fire; the heavens it doth fill With thund'ring noise, and all the air doth choke, [will, That none can breathe, nor see, nor hear at Through smouldry cloud of duskish, stinking smoke; [cap'd the stroke. That th' only breath him daunts, who hath es

So daunted when the giant saw the Knight, His heavy hand he heavéd up on high, And him to dust thought to have batter'd quite, Until Duessa loud to him gan cry; "O great Orgoglio, greatest under sky, O! hold thy mortal hand for lady's sake; Hold for my sake, and do him not to die, But vanquisht thine eternal bondslave make, And me, thy worthy meed, unto thy leman take."

He heark'ned, and did stay from farther harms, To gain so goodly guerdon as she spake : So willingly she came into his arms, Who her as willingly to grace did take, And was possessed of his newfound make." Then up he took the slumbred senseless corse; And, ere he could out of his swoon awake, Him to his castle brought with hasty force, And in a dungeon deep him threw without re

morse.

From that day forth Duessa was his dear, And highly honor'd in his haughty eye: He gave her gold and purple pall to wear, And triple crown set on her head full high, And her endow'd with royal majesty: Then, for to make her dreaded more of men, And people's hearts with awful terror tye,8 A monstrous beast ybred in filthy fen He chose, which he had kept long time in darksome den.

5 Strength. • Enfeebled. 7 Companion. 8 Subdue.