37 That cruell word her tender hart so thrild,
That suddein cold did ronne through every vaine,
And stony horrour all her sences fild
With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine.
The knight her lightly reared up againe,
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:
Then, wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine
The further processe of her hidden griefe:
The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur'd the chief.
38 Then gan the Pilgrim thus; I chaunst this day, This fatall day, that shall I ever rew,
To see two knights, in travell on my way,
(A sory sight,) arraung'd in battell new,
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew; .
My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife,
To see their blades so greedily imbrew,
That, dronke with blood, yet thristed after life: [knife.
What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim
39 Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee,
And he the stoutest knight, that ever wonne ?
Ah dearest Dame (quoth he) how might I see
The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne ?
Where is (said Satyrane) that Paynims sonne,
That him of life, and us of joy hath refte ?
Not far away (quoth he) he hence doth wonne,
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were
40 Therewith the knight then marched forth in hast, Whiles Una, with huge heavinesse opprest,
Could not for sorrow follow him so fast;
And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,
Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest
In secret shadow by a fountaine side:
Even he it was, that earst would have opprest
Faire Una; whom when Satyrane espide,
With foule reprochfull words he boldly him defide;
41 And said, Arise, thou cursed Miscreaunt,
That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train
Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain:
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield.
The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,
And catching up in hast his three-square shield
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field;
42 And, drawing nigh him, said, Ah misborne Elfe,
In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent
Anothers wrongs to wreak upon thy selfe:
Yet ill thou blamest me, for having blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent:
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never slew;
But had he beene, where earst his arms were lent,
Th' enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew:
But thou his errour shalt, I hope, now proven trew.
43 Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,
To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile
Each other, bent his enimy to quell;
That with their force they perst both plate and maile,
And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile,
That it would pitty any living eie.
Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile;
But floods of bloud could not them satisfie:
Both hongred after death; both chose to win, or die.
44 So long they fight, and full revenge pursue,
That fainting each themselves to breathen let;
And, ofte refreshed, battell oft renue:
As when two Bores, with rancling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret ;
Til breathlesse both themselves aside retire,
Where, foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,
And trample th' earth, the whiles they may respire;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.
45 So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once,
They gan to fight retourne, increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce,
With heaped strokes more hugely then before;
That with their drery woundes and bloudy gore,
They both deformed, scarsely could be known.
By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise which through the aire was thrown,
Arriv'd, wher they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown.
46 Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin
Espide, he lefte the battell hastily,
But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, staid,
And sternely bad him other businesse plie
Then hunt the steps of pure unspotted Maid:
Wherewith he al enrag'd these bitter speaches said,
47 O foolish faeries sonne, what fury mad
Hath thee incenst to hast thy dolefull fate?
Were it not better I that Lady had
Then that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate
To love another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy lovers token on thy pate.
So they two fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.
48 But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing told,
Being in deed old Archimage, did stay
In secret shadow all this to behold;
And much rejoiced in their bloudy fray:
But, when he saw the Damsell passe away,
He left his stond, and her pursewd apace,
In hope to bring her to her last decay.
But for to tell her lamentable cace,
And eke this battels end, will need another place.
The Redcrosse knight is captive made
by Gyaunt proud opprest:
Prince Arthur meets with Una great-
ly with those newes distrest.
I WHAT man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,
As to discry the crafty cunning traine,
By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,
And cast her colours dyed deep in graine,
To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,
The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?
Great maistresse of her art was that false Dame,
The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes name.
2 Who when, returning from the drery Night,
She fownd not in that perilous Hous of Pryde,
Where she had left the noble Redcrosse knight,
Her hoped pray; she would no lenger bide,
But forth she went to seeke him far and wide.
Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie sate
To rest him selfe, foreby a fountaine side,
Disarmed all of yron-coted plate;
And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.
3 He feedes upon the cooling shade, and bayes
His sweatie forehead in the breathing wind,
Which through the trembling leaves full gently playes,
Wherein the chearefull birds of sundry kind
Do chaunt sweet musick, to delight his mind:
The Witch approching gan him fairely greet,
And with reproch of carelesnesse unkind
Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet,
With fowle words tempring faire, soure gall with hony
4 Unkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat,
And bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade,
Which shielded them against the boyling heat,
And, with greene boughes decking a gloomy shade,
About the fountaine like a girlond made;
Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly well,
Ne ever would through fervent sommer fade:
The sacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dianes favor, as it then befell.
5 The cause was this: One day, when Phoebe fayre
With all her band was following the chace,
This Nymph, quite tyr'd with heat of scorching ayre,
Sat downe to rest in middest of the race:
The goddesse wroth gan fowly her disgrace,
And badd the waters, which from her did flow,
Be such as she her selfe was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters waxed dull and slow;
And all that drinke thereof do faint and feeble grow.
6 Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was;
And, lying downe upon the sandie graile,
Dronke of the streame, as cleare as cristall glas:
Eftsoones his manly forces gan to faile,
And mightie strong was turnd to feeble fraile.
His chaunged powres at first themselves not felt,
Till crudled cold his corage gan assaile,
And cheareful bloud in faintnesse chill did melt,
Which, like a fever fit, through all his body swelt.
7 Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame,
Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,
Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,
Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebownd,
That all the earth for terror seemd to shake,
And trees did tremble. Th' Elfe, therewith astownd,
Upstarted lightly from his looser make,
And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.
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