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 pierc'd 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 rail;
But floods of blood could not them satisfy:
Both hungered 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 refreshed, 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,
And trample th' earth, the whiles they may respire;
Then back to fight again, new breathed and entire.
So fiercely, when these knights had breathed once,
They gan to fight return; increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruel rage at once,
With heaped 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,
Arriv'd where they in earth their fruitless blood had sown.
Whom all so soon as that proud Saracen
Espied, he gan revive the memory
Of his lewd love and late attempted sin;
And left the doubtful battle hastily,
To catch her newly offer'd to his eye;
But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, staid,
And sternly bad him other business ply
Than hunt the steps of pure unspotted maid:
Wherewith he, all enrag'd, these bitter speeches said;
"O foolish faëry's son, what fury mad
Hath thee incenst to haste thy doleful fate?
Were it not better I that lady had
Than that thou hadst repented it too late?
Most senseless man he, that himself doth hate
To love another: Lo then for thine aid,
Here, take thy lovers token on thy pate."'
So they to fight; the whiles the royal maid
Fled far away, of that proud Paynim sore afraid.
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 bloody fray:
But, when he saw the damsel pass away,
He left his stand, and her pursued 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.
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 dyed deep in grain,
To seem like Truth, whose shape she well can feign,
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, cloked with fair 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 hoped 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,
Disarmed all of iron-coated plate ;
And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.
He feeds upon the cooling shade, and bayes*
His sweaty forehead in the breathing wind,
Which through the trembling leaves full gently plays,
Wherein the cheerful birds of sundry kind
Doe chant sweet musick, to delight his mind;
The witch approaching gan him fairly greet,
And with reproach of carelesness unkind
Upbraid, for leaving her in place unmeet,
With foul words temp'ring fair, sour gall with honey sweet.
Unkindness past, they gan of solace treat,
And bathe in pleasance of the joyous shade,
Which shielded them against the boiling heat,
And, with green boughs decking a gloomy shade,
About the fountain like a garland made ;
Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly well,
Nor ever would through fervent summer fade:
The sacred nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dian's favor, as it then befel.
The cause was this: One day, when Phoebe fair
With all her band was following the chase,
This nymph, quite tir'd with heat of scorching air,
Sat down to rest in middest of the race;
The goddess wroth gan foully her disgrace,
And bade the waters, which from her did flow,
Be such as she herself was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters waxed dull and slow;
And all, that drink thereof, do faint and feeble grow.
Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was;
And, lying down upon the sandy graile,*
Drink of the stream, as clear as christal glass;
Eftsoones his manly forces gan to fail,
And mighty strong was turn'd to feeble frail,
His changed powers at first themselves not felt;
Till crudled cold his courage gan assail,
And cheerful blood in faintness chill did melt,
Which, like a fever fit, through all his body swelt.
Yet goodly court he made still to his dame,
Pour'd out in looseness on the grassy ground,
Both careless of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a dreadful sound,
Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebound,
That all the earth for terror seem'd to shake,
And trees did tremble. Th' Elf, therewith astound,
Upstarted lightly from his looser make,†
And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.
But ere he could his armor on him dight,
Or get his shield, his monstrous enemy
With sturdy steps came stalking in his sight,
An hideous giant, horrible and high,
* Graile, gravel, in this case, though it is sometimes used with a far different signification.
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