39 Who, when the shamed shield of slaine Sansfoy
He spide with that same Fary champions page,
Bewraying him, that did of late destroy
His eldest brother, burning all with rage
He to him leapt, and that same envious gage
Of victors glory from him snatcht away:

But th' Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,
Disdaind to loose the meed he wonne in fray,

And, him rencountring fierce, reskewd the noble pray.

40 Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily,

Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne,

And clash their shields, and shake their swords on hy;
That with their sturre they troubled all the traine;
Till that great Queene, upon eternall paine
Of high displeasure that ensewen might,
Commaunded them their fury to refraine,
And, if that either to that shield had right,

In equall lists they should the morrow next it fight.

41 Ah, dearest Dame, (quoth then the Paynim bold,)
Pardon the error of enraged wight,

Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold
Of reasons rule, to see this recreant knight,

No knight, but treachour full of false dispight

And shamefull treason, who through guile hath slayn
The prowest knight that ever field did fight,

Even stout Sansfoy, (O, who can then refrayn ?)
Whose shield he beares renverst, the more to heap disdayn.

42 And to augment the glorie of his guile,

His dearest love, the faire Fidessa, loe
Is there possessed of the traytour vile,
Who reapes the harvest sowen by his foe,
Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe:
That-brothers hand shall dearely well requight,
So be, O Queene, you equall favour showe.
Him litle answerd th' angry Elfin knight;

He never meant with words, but swords, to plead his right:

43 But threw his gauntlet, as a sacred pledge
His cause in combat the next day to try:
So been they parted both, with harts on edge
To be aveng'd each on his enimy.

That night they pas in joy and jollity,

Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall;
For Steward was excessive Gluttonie,

That of his plenty poured forth to all:

Which doen, the Chamberlain Slowth did to rest them call.

44 Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd
Her coleblacke curtein over brightest skye,
The warlike youthes, on dayntie couches layd,
Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye,
To muse on meanes of hoped victory.

But whenas Morpheus had with leaden mace
Arrested all that courtly company,

Up-rose Duessa from her resting place,

And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace.

45 Whom broad awake she findes, in troublous fit, Fore casting, how his foe he might annoy;

And him amoves with speaches seeming fit:

Ah, deare Sansjoy, next dearest to Sansfoy,
Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new joy,
Joyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,
And greevd, to thinke how foe did him destroy,
That was the flowre of grace and chevalrye;
Lo his Fidessa to thy secret faith I flye.

46 With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet,
And bad say on the secrete of her hart.
Then, sighing soft, I learne that little sweet
Oft tempred is (quoth she) with muchell smart:
For since my brest was launcht with lovely dart
Of deare Sansfoy I never joyed howre,

But in eternall woes my weaker hart

Have wasted, loving him with all my powre,

And for his sake have felt full many an heavie stowre.

47 At last when perils all I weened past,
And hop'd to reape the crop of all my care,
Into new woes unweeting I was cast

By this false faytor, who unworthie ware
His worthie shield, whom he with guilefull snare
Entrapped slew, and brought to shamefull grave.
Me silly maid away with him he bare,

And ever since hath kept in darksome cave;
For that I would not yeeld that to Sans-foy I gave.

48 But since faire Sunne hath sperst that lowring clowd,
And to my loathed life now shewes some light,
Under your beames I will me safely shrowd
From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight:
To you th' inheritance belongs by right
Of brothers prayse, to you eke longs his love.
Let not his love, let not his restlesse spright,
Be unreveng'd, that calles to you above
From wandring Stygian shores, where it doth endlesse

[move.

49 Thereto said he, Faire Dame, be nought dismaid
For sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone:
Ne yet of present perill be affraid;

For needlesse feare did never vantage none;
And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.
Dead is Sans-foy, his vitall paines are past,

Though greeved ghost for vengeance deepe do grone:
He lives, that shall him pay his dewties last,
And guiltie Elfin blood shall sacrifice in hast.

50 O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth she)
Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in field.
Why Dame (quoth he) what oddes can ever bee
Where both doe fight alike, to win or yield?
Yea but (quoth she) he beares a charmed shield,
And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce;
Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.
Charmd or enchaunted (answerd he then ferce)
I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce:

E

51 But, faire Fidessa, sithens fortunes guile,
Or enimies powre, hath now captived you,
Returne from whence ye came, and rest a while,
Till morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew,
And with Sans-foyes dead dowry you endew.
Ay me, that is a double death (she said)
With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew:
Where ever yet I be, my secret aid

Shall follow you. So passing forth she him obaid.

CANTO V.

The faithfull knight in equall field
subdewes his faithlesse foe;

Whom false Duessa saves, and for
bis cure to bell does goe.

I THE noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought,
And is with child of glorious great intent,
Can never rest, untill it forth have brought
Th' eternall brood of glorie excellent.
Such restlesse passion did all night torment
The flaming corage of that Faery knight,
Devizing, how that doughtie turnament
With greatest honour be atchieven might:
Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawning light.

2 At last the golden Orientall gate

Of greatest heaven gan to open faire,

And Phoebus, fresh as bridegrome to his mate,
Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire;
And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy aire.
Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiv'd, streightway
He started up, and did him selfe prepaire

In sunbright armes, and battailous array:

For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.

3 And forth he comes into the commune hall;
Where earely waite him many a gazing eye,
To weet what end to straunger knights may fall.
There many Minstrels maken melody,

To drive away the dull melancholy;

And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord
Can tune their timely voices cunningly;

And many Chroniclers that can record

Old loves, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.