But Belge with her sonnes prostrated low
Before his feete, in all that peoples sight, [wo,
Mongst ioyes mixing some tears, mongst wele some
Him thus bespake; "O most redoubted knight,
The which hast me, of all most wretched wight,
That earst was dead, restor'd to life againe,
And these weake impes replanted by thy might;
What guerdon can I give thee for thy paine,
But ev'n that which thou savedst thine still to re-
maine!"

He tooke her up forby the lilly hand,
And her recomforted the best he might,
Saying; "Deare lady, deedes ought not be scand
By th' authors manhood, nor the doers might,
But by their trueth and by the causes right:
That same is it which fought for you this day.
What other meed then need me to requight,
But that which yeeldeth vertues meed alway?
That is, the vertue selfe, which her reward doth pay."

She humbly thankt him for that wondrous grace,
And further sayd; "Ah! sir, but mote ye please,
Sith ye thus farre have tendred my poore case,
As from my chiefest foe me to release,
That your victorious arme will not yet cease,
Till ye have rooted all the relickes out
Of that vilde race, and stablished my peace."
"What is there else," sayd he "left of their rout?
Declare it boldly, dame, and doe not stand in dout."

"Then wote you, sir, that in this church hereby
There stands an idole of great note and name,
The which this gyant reared first on hie,
And of his owne vaine fancies thought did frame:
To whom, for endlesse horrour of his shame,
He offred up for daily sacrifize

My children and my people, burnt in flame
With all the tortures that he could devize, [guize.
The more t' aggrate his god with such his blouddy

"And underneath this idoll there doth lie
An hideous monster, that doth it defend,
And feedes on all the carkasses that die
In sacrifize unto that cursed feend:
Whose ugly shape none ever saw, nor kend,
That ever scap'd: for of a man they say
It has the voice, that speaches forth doth send,
Even blasphemous words, which she doth bray
Out of her poisnous entrails fraught with dire decay."

Which when the prince heard tell, his heart gan earne
For great desire that monster to assay;
And prayd the place of her abode to learne:
Which being shew'd, he gan himselfe streightway
Thereto addresse, and his bright shield display.
So to the church he came, where it was told
The monster underneath the altar lay;
There he that idoll saw of massy gold
Most richly made, but there no monster did behold.

Upon the image with his naked blade
Three times, as in defiance, there he strooke;
And, the third time, out of an hidden shade
There forth issewd from under th' altars smooke
A dreadfull feend with fowle deformed looke,
That stretcht itselfe as it had long lyen still;
And her long taile and fethers strongly shooke,
That all the temple did with terrour fill;
Yet him nought terrifide that feared nothing ill.

Much like in foulnesse and deformity
Unto that monster, whom the Theban knight,
The father of that fat all progeny,
Made kill herselfe for very hearts despight
That he had red her riddle, which no wight
Could ever loose, but suffred deadly doole:
So also did this monster use like slight
To many a one which came unto her schoole,
Whom she did put to death deceived like a foole.

She comming forth, whenas she first beheld
The armed prince with shield so blazing bright
Her ready to assaile, was greatly queld,
And much dismayd with that dismayfull sight,
That backe she would have turnd for great affright:
But he gan her with courage fierce assay,
That forst her turne againe in her despight
To save herselfe, least that he did her slay;
And sure he had her slaine, had she not turnd her way.

Tho, when she saw that she was forst to fight,
She flew at him like to an hellish feend,
And on his shield tooke hold with all her might,
As if that it she would in peeces rend,
Or reave out of the band that did it hend:
Strongly he strove out of her greedy gripe
To loose his shield, and long while did contend;
But, when he could not quite it, with one stripe
Her lions clawes he from her feete away did wipe.

With that aloude she gan to bray and yell,
And fowle blasphemous speaches forth did cast,
And bitter curses, horrible to tell;

That even the temple, wherein she was plast,
Did quake to heare, and nigh asunder brast;
Tho with her huge long taile she at him strooke,
That made him stagger and stand halfe aghast
With trembling ioynts, as he for terrour shooke;
Who nought was terrifide but greater courage tooke.

As when the mast of some well-timbred hulke
Is with the blast of some outragious storme
Blowne downe, it shakes the bottome of the bulke,
And makes her ribs to cracke as they were torne;
Whilest still she stands as stonisht and forlorne;
So was he stound with stroke of her huge taile:
But, ere that it she backe againe had borne,
He with his sword it strooke, that without faile
He ioynted it, and mard the swinging of her flails.

Then gan she cry much louder than afore,
That all the people, there without, it heard,
And Belge selfe was therewith stonied sore,
As if the onely sound thereof she feard.

But then the feend herselfe more fiercely reard
Uppon her wide great wings, and strongly flew
With all her body at his head and beard,
That had he not foreseene with heedfull vew, [rew:
And thrown his shield atween, she had him done to

But, as she prest on him with heavy sway,
Under her wombe his fatall sword he thrust,
And for her entrailes made an open way
To issue forth; the which, once being brust,
Like to a great mill-damb forth fiercely gusht,
And powred out of her infernall sinke
Most ugly filth; and poyson therewith rusht,
That him nigh choked with the deadly stinke:
Such loathly matter were small lust to speake or
thinke.

Then downe to ground fell that deformed masse,
Breathing out clouds of sulphure fowle and blacke,
In which a puddle of contagion was,

More loathd then Lerna, or then Stygian lake,
That any man would nigh awhaped make:
Whom when he saw on ground, he was full glad,
And streight went forth his gladnesse to partake
With Belge, who watcht all this while full sad,
Wayting what end would be of that same daunger
drad.

Whom when she saw so ioyously come forth,
She gan reioyce and shew triumphant chere,
Lauding and praysing his renowmed worth
By all the names that honorable were.
Then in he brought her, and her shewed there
The present of his paines, that monsters spoyle,
And eke that idoll deem'd so costly dere;
Whom he did ail to peeces breake, and foyle
In filthy durt, and left so in the loathely soyle.

Then all the people which beheld that day
Gan shout aloud, that unto Heaven it rong;
And all the damzels of that towne in ray
Came dauncing forth, and ioyous carrols song:
So him they led through all their streetes along
Crowned with girlonds of immortall baies;
And all the vulgar did about them throng
To see the man, whose everlasting praise
They all were bound to all posterities to raise.

There he with Belgè did awhile remaine
Making great feast and ioyous merriment,
Untill he had her settled in her raine
With safe assuraunce and establishment.
Then to his first emprize his mind he lent,
Full loath to Belgè and to all the rest;

Of whom yet taking leave thenceforth he went,
And to his former iourney him addrest ;
On which long way he rode, ne ever day did rest.

But turne we now to noble Artegall;
Who, having left Mercilla, streightway went
On his first quest, the which him forth did call,
To weet, to worke Irenaes franchisement,
And eke Grantortoes worthy punishment.
So forth he fared, as his manner was,
With onely Talus wayting diligent,
Through many perils; and much way did pas,
Till nigh unto the place at length approcht he has.

There as he traveld by the way, he met An aged wight wayfaring all alone,

Who through his yeares long since aside had set
The use of armes, and battell quite forgone:

To whom as he approcht, he knew anone
That it was he which whilome did attend
On faire Irene in her affliction,
When first to Faery court he saw her wend,
Unto his soveraine queene her suite for to commend,

Whom by bis name saluting, thus he gan;
"Haile, good sir Sergis, truest knight alive,
Well tride in all thy ladies troubles than
When her that tyrant did of crowne deprive;
What new occasion doth thee hither drive,
Whiles she alone is left, and thou here found?
Or is she thrall, or doth she not survive?"
To whom he thus; "She liveth sure and sound;
But by that tyrant is in wretched thraldome bound:

"For she presuming on th' appointed tyde,
In which ye promist, as ye were a knight,
To meete her at the Salvage Ilands syde,
And then and there for triall of her right
With her unrighteous enemy to fight,
Did thither come; where she, afrayd of nought,
By guilefull treason and by subtill slight
Surprized was, and to Grantorto brought,
Who her imprisond hath, and her life often sought.

"And now he hath to her prefixt a day,
By which if that no champion doe appeare,
Which will her cause in battailous array
Against him justifie, and prove her cleare
Of all those crimes that he gainst her doth reare,
She death shall sure aby." Those tidings sad
Did much abash sir Artegall to heare,
And grieved sore, that through his fault she had
Fallen into that tyrants hand and usage bad.

Then thus replide; "Now sure and by my life,
Too much am I to blame for that faire maide,
That have her drawne to all this troublous strife,
Through promise to afford her timely aide,
Which by default I have not yet defraide:
But witnesse unto me, ye Heavens! that know
How cleare I am from blame of this upbraide:
For ye into like thraldome me did throw,
And kept from complishing the faith which I did owe.

"But now aread, sir Sergis, how long space
Hath he her lent a champion to provide."
"Ten daies," quoth he, "he graunted hath of grace,
For that he weeneth well before that tide
None can have tidings to assist her side:
For all the shores, which to the sea accoste,
He day and night doth ward both farre and wide,
That none can there arrive without an hoste:
So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste."

"Now turne againe," sir Artegall then sayd;
"For, if I live till those ten daies have end,
Assure yourselfe, sir Knight, she shall have ayd,
Though I this dearest life for her doe spend."
So backeward he attone with him did wend.
Tho, as they rode together on their way,
A rout of people they before them kend,
Flocking together in confusde array;
As if that there were some tumultuous affray

To which as they approcht the cause to know,
They saw a knight in daungerous distresse
Of a rude rout him chasing to and fro,
That sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse,
And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse :
And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,
They spide a lady left all succourlesse,
Crying, and holding up her wretched bands [stands.
To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage with-

Yet still he strives, ne any perill spares,
To reskue her from their rude violence;
And like a lion wood amongst them fares,
Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large dispence,
Gainst which the pallid death findes no defence:
But all in vaine; their numbers are so great,
That naught may boot to banishe them from thence;
For, soone as he their outrage backe doth beat,
They turne afresh, and oft renew their former threat.

And now they doe so sharpely him assay,
That they his shield in peeces battred have,
And forced him to throw it quite away,
Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to save;
Albe that it most safety to him gave,
And much did magnifie his noble name :
For, from the day that he thus did it leave,
Amongst all knights he blotted was with blame,
And counted but a recreant knight with endles
shame.

Whom when they thus distressed did behold,
They drew unto his aide; but that rude rout
Them also gan assaile with outrage bold,
And forced them, however strong and stout
They were, as well approv'd in many a doubt,
Backe to recule; untill that yron man
With his huge flaile began to lay about;
From whose sterne presence they diffused ran, [fan.
Like scattred schaffe, the which the wind away doth

So when that knight from perill cleare was freed,
He drawing neare began to greete them faire,
And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed,
In saving him from daungerous despaire
Of those which sought his life for to empaire:
Of whom sir Artegall gan then enquere
The whole occasion of his late misfare,
And who he was, and what those villaines were,
The which with mortall malice him pursu'd so nere.

To whom he thus; "My name is Burbon hight,
Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,
Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light,
That all my former praise hath blemisht sure:
And that faire lady, which in that uprore
Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis hight,
Is mine owne love, though me she have forlore;
Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might,
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.

"But sure to me her faith she first did plight
To be my love, and take me for her lord;
Till that a tyrant, which Grandtorto hight,
With golden giftes and many a guilefull word
Entyced her to him for to accord.

O, who may not with gifts and words be tempted!
Sith which she hath me ever since abhord,
And to my foe hath guilefully consented:
Ay me, that ever guyle in wemen was invented!

"And now he hath this troupe of villains sent
By open force to fetch her quite away:
Gainst whom myselfe I long in vaine have bent
To rescue her, and daily meanes assay,
Yet rescue her thence by no meanes I may;
For they doe me with multitude oppresse,
And with unequall might doe overlay,
That oft I driven am to great distresse,
And forced to forgoe th' attempt remédilesse."

"But why have ye," said Artegall, "forborne
Your owne good shield in daungerous dismay?
That is the greatest shame and foulest scorne,
Which unto any knight behappen may,
To loose the badge that should his deedes display."
To whom sir Burbon, blushing halfe for shame;
"That shall I unto you," quoth he, "bewray;
Least ye therefore mote happily me blame, [came.
And deeme it doen of will, that through inforcement

"True is that I at first was dubbed knight
By a good knight, the knight of the Redcrosse ;
Who, when he gave me armes in field to fight,
Gave me a shield, in which he did endosse
His deare Redeemers badge upon the bosse :
The same long while I bore, and therewithall
Fought many battels without wound or losse ;
Therewith Grandtorto selfe I did appall,
And made him oftentimes in field before me fall

"But for that many did that shield envie,
And cruell enemies increased more;
To stint all strife and troublous enmitie,
That bloudie scutchin being battred sore
I layd aside, and have of late forbore;
Hoping thereby to have my love obtayned:
Yet can I not my love have nathëmore;
For she by force is still fro me detayned, [ed."
And with corruptfull brybes is to untruth mistrayn-
To whom thus Artegall ; "Certes, sir Knight,
Hard is the case the which ye doe complaine;
Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light
That it to such a streight mote you constraine)
As to abandon that which doth containe
Your honours stile, that is, your warlike shield.
All perill ought be lesse, and lesse all paine
Then losse of fame in disaventrous field:
Dye, rather then doe ought that mote dishonour
yield!"

"Not so," quoth he; "for yet, when time doth
My former shield I may resume againe: [serve,
To temporize is not from truth to swerve,
Ne for advantage terme to entertaine,
Whenas necessitie doth it constraine."
"Fie on such forgerie," said Artegall,
"Under one hood to shadow faces twaine:
Knights ought be true, and truth is one in all:
Of all things, to dissemble, foaly may befall!"

"Yet let me you of courtesie request,"
Said Burbon, "to assist me now at need
Against these pesants which have me opprest,
And forced me to so infamous deed,
That yet my love may from their hands be freed."
Sir Artegall, albe he earst did wyte

His wavering mind, yet to his aide agreed,
And buckling him eftsoones unto the fight [might
Did set upon these troupes with all his powre and

Who flocking round about them, as a swarme
Of flyes upon a birchen bough doth cluster,
Did them assault with terrible allarme,
And over all the fields themselves did muster,
With bils and glayves making a dreadfull luster;
That forst at first those knights backe to retyre:
As when the wrathfull Boreas doth bluster,
Nought may abide the tempest of his yre, [quyre.
Both man and beast doe fly, and succour doe in-

But, whenas overblowen was that brant,
Those knights began afresh them to assayle,
And all about the fields like squirrels hunt;

But chiefly Talus with his yron flayle,

Gainst which no flight nor rescue mote avayle,
Made cruell havocke of the baser crew,

And chaced them both over hill and dale:
The raskall manie soone they overthrew; [subdew.
But the two knights themselves their captains did

At last they came whereas that ladie bode,
Whom now her keepers had forsaken quight
To save themselves, and scattered were abrode:
Her halfe dismayd they found in doubtfull plight,
As neither glad nor sorie for their sight;
Yet wondrous faire she was, and richly clad
In roiall robes, and many iewels dight;
But that those villens through their usage bad
Them fouly rent, and shamefully defaced had.

But Burbon, streight dismounting from his steed,
Unto her ran with greedie great desyre,
And catching her fast by her ragged weed
Would have embraced her with hart entyre:
But she, backstarting, with disdainefull yre
Bad him avaunt, ne would unto his lore
Allured be for prayer nor for meed:
Whom when those knights so froward and forlore
Beheld, they her rebuked and upbrayded sore.

Sayd Artegall; "What foule disgrace is this
To so faire ladie, as ye seeme in sight,
To blot your beautie, that unblemisht is,
With so foule blame as breach of faith once plight,
Or change of love for any worlds delight?
Is ought on Earth so pretious or deare

As prayse and honour? or is ought so bright
And beautifull as glories beames appeare,
Whose goodly light then Phoebus lampe doth shine
'more cleare?

"Why then will ye, fond dame, attempted bee
Unto a strangers love, so lightly placed,
For guiftes of gold or any worldly glee,
To leave the love that ve before embraced,
And let your fame with falshood be defaced?
Fie on the pelfe for which good name is sold,
And honour with indignitie debased!
Dearer is love then life, and fame then gold; [hold."
But dearer then them both your faith once plighted

Much was the ladie in her gentle mind
Abasht at his rebuke, that bit her neare;
Ne ought to answere thereunto did find:
But, hanging down her head with heavie cheare,
Stood long amaz'd as she amated weare:
Which Burbon seeing, her againe assayd;
And, clasping twixt his armes, her up did reare
Upon his steede, whiles she no whit gainesayd:
So bore her quite away nor well nor ill apayd.

Nathlesse the yron man did still pursew
That raskall many with unpittied spoyle;
Ne ceassed not, till all their scattred crew
Into the sea he drove quite from that soyle,
The which they troubled had with great turmoyle:
But Artegall, seeing his cruell deed,
Commaunded him from slaughter to recoyle,
And to his voyage gan againe proceed;
For that the terme, approching fast, required speed.

CANTO XII.

Artegall doth sir Burbon aide,

And blames for changing shield: He with the great Grantorto fights, And slaicth him in field.

SACRED hunger of ambitious mindes, And impotent desire of men to raine! Whom neither dread of God, that devils bindes, Nor lawes of men, that common-weales containe', Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine, Can keepe from outrage and from doing wrong, Where they may hope a kingdome to obtaine: No faith so firme, no trust can be so strong, No love so lasting then, that may enduren long.

Witnesse may Burbon be; whom all the bands, Which may a knight assure, had surely bound, Untill the love of lordship and of lands

Made him become most faithless and unsound:
And witnesse be Gerioneo found,

Who for like cause faire Belgè did oppresse,
And right and wrong most cruelly confound:
And so be now Grantorto, who no lesse
Then all the rest burst out to all outragiousnesse.

Gainst whom sir Artegall long having since
Taken in hand th' exploit, (being theretoo
Appointed by that mightie Faerie prince,
Great Gloriane, that tyrant to fordoo,)
Through other great adventures hethertoo
Had it forslackt: but now time drawing ny,
To him assynd her high beheast to doo,
To the sea-shore he gan his way apply,
To weete if shipping readie he mote there descry

Tho, when they came to the sea-coast, they found
A ship all readie, as good fortune fell,
To put to sea, with whom they did compound
To passe them over where them list to tell :
The winde and weather served them so well,
That in one day they with the coast did fall;
Whereas they readie found, them to repell,
Great hostes of men in order martiall,
Which them forbad to land, and footing did forstall.

But nathëmore would they from land refraine:
But, whenas nigh unto the shore they drew
That foot of man might sound the bottome plaine,
Talus into the sea did forth issew
[threw;
Though darts from shore and stones they at him
And wading through the waves with stedfast sway,
Maugre the might of all those troupes in vew,
Did win the shore; whence he them chast away
And made to fly like doves, whom th' eagle doth

affray.

Like as a tender rose in open plaine,
That with untimely drought nigh withered was,
And hung the head, soone as few drops of raine
Thereon distill and deaw her daintie face,
Gins to look up, and with fresh wonted grace
Dispreds the glorie of her leavës gay;
Such was Irenas countenance, such her case,
When Artegall she saw in that array,
There wayting for the tyrant till it was farre day:

Who came at length with proud presumpteous gate
Into the field, as if he fearelesse were,
All armed in a cote of yron plate

Of great defence to ward the deadly feare,
And on his head a steele-cap he did weare
Of colour rustie-browne, but sure and strong;
And in his hand an huge polaxe did beare,
Whose steale was yron-studded, but not long,
With which he wont to fight, to iustifie his wrong:

Of stature huge and hideous he was,
Like to a giant for his monstrous hight,
And did in strength most sorts of men surpas,
Ne ever any found his match in might;
There'o he had great skill in single fight:
His face was ugly and his countenance sterne,
That could have frayd one with the very sight,
And gaped like a gulfe when he did gerne;
That whether man or monster one could scarse dis-

cerne.

Soone as he did within the listes appeare,
With dreadfull looke he Artegall beheld,
As if he would have daunted him with feare;
And, grinning griesly, did against him weld
His deadly weapon which in hand he held:
But th' Elfin swayne, that oft had seene like sight,
Was with his ghastly count'nance nothing queld:
But gan him streight to buckle to the fight,
And cast his shield about to be in readie plight.

The trompets sound; and they together goe
With dreadfull terror and with fell intent;
And their huge strokes full dangerously bestow,
To doe most dammage whereas most they ment:
But with such force and furie violent
The tyrant thundred his thicke blowes so fast,
That through the yron walles their way they rent,
And even to the vitali parts they past,
[brast.
Ne ought could them endure, but all they cleft or

Which cruell outrage whenas Artegall
Did well avize, thenceforth with warie heed
He shund his strokes, where-ever they did fall,
And way did give unto their gracelesse speed:
As when a skilfull marriner doth reed
A storme approching that doth perill threat,
He will not bide the daunger of such dread,
But strikes his sayles, and vereth his main-sheat,
And lends unto it leave the emptie ayre to beat.