His sad dull eies, deepe sunck in hollow pits,
Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty sides deceived of their dew,
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;
His rawb ne armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to rive steele plates, and helmets hew,
Were clene consum'd; and all his vitall powres
Decayd; and al his flesh shronk up like withered
flowres.
Whome when his lady saw, to him she ran
With hasty ioy: to see him made her glad,
And sad to view his visage pale and wan;
Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad.
Tho, when her well of teares she wasted had,
She såd: "Ah, dearest lord! what evil starre
On you hath frownd, and poured his influence bad,
That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,
And this misseeming hew your manly lookes doth
"But welcome now, my lord, in wele or woe,
Whose presence I have lackt too long a day :
And fye on Fortune mine avowed foe,
Whose wrathful wreakes themselves doe now alay;
And for these wronges shall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe."
The chearlese man, whom sorrow did dismay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
His long endured famine needed more reliefe.
"Faire lady," then said that victorious knight,
"The things, that grievous were to doe, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare:
But th' only good, that growes of passed feare,
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This daies ensample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.
"Henceforth, sir knight, take to you wonted strength,
And maister these mishaps with patient might:
Loe, where your foe lies stretcht in monstrous length;
And lo, that wicked woman in your sight,
The roote of all your care and wretched plight,
Now in your powre, to let her live, or die."
"To doe her die," quoth Una, "were despight,
And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy;
But spoile her of her scarlet robe, and let har fly."
And at her parting said, she Queene of Faries hight. For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew
"Certes,' sayd he, "hence shall I never rest,
Till I that treachours art have heard and tryde:
And you, sir knight, whose name mote I request,
Of grace do me unto his cabin guyde."
"I, that hight Trevisan," quoth he" will ryde,
Against my liking, backe to doe you grace:
But not for gold nor glee will I abyde
By you, when ye arrive in that same place;
For lever had I die then see his deadly face."
Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave,
Far underneath a craggy cliff ypight,
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave:
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle
bowle:
And all about old stockes and stubs of trees,
Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seen,
Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattred on the
greene,
And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived there,
That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefun teene,
Would faine have fled, ne durst aprochen neare;
But th' other forst him staye, and comforted in feare
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