"Unhappy falls that hard necessity,"
Quoth he, "the troubler of my happy peace,
And vowed foe of my felicity;

Ne I against the same can justly preace.
But since that band ye cannot now release,
Nor doen undo, (for vowes may not be vayne,)
Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,
Ye then shall hether backe retourne agayne,
The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twayn:

"Which, for my part, I covet to performe,
In sort as through the world I did proclame,
That whoso kild that monster most deforme,
And him in hardy battayle overcame,
Should have mine onely daughter to his danie,
And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee:
Therefore since now to thee perteynes the same,
By dew desert of noble chevalree,

Both daughter and eke kingdome lo! I yield to thee."

Then forth he called that his daughter fayre,
The fairest Un', his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter and his onely hayre;
Who forth proceeding with ad sober cheare,
As bright as doth the morning starre appeare
Out of the east, with flaming lockes bedight,
To tell that dawning day is drawing neare,
And to the world does bring long-wished light:
So faire and fresh that lady shewd herselfe in sight:

So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May;
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearie iourney she did ride;
And on her now a garment she did weare
All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride,
That seemd like silke and silver woven neare;
But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame,
And glorious light of her sunshyny face,
To tell, were as to strive against the streame:
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace
Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her own deare loved knight,
All were she daily with himselfe in place,
Did wonder much at her celestial sight:

"To thee, most mighty king of Eden fayre,
Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest
The wofull daughter and forsaken heyre
Of that great emperour of all the west;
And bids thee be advized for the best,
Ere thou thy daughter linck, in holy band
Of wedlocke, to that new unknowen guest:
For he already plighted his right hand
Unto another love, and to another land.

"To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad,
He was affyaunced long time before,
And sacred pledges he both gave, and had,
False erraunt knight, infamous, and forsworne!
Witnesse the burning altars, which he swore,
And guilty Heavens of his bold periury:
Which though he hath polluted oft of yore,
Yet I to them for iudgement inst doe fly,
And them coniure t' avenge this shamefull iniury!
"Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond,
Or false or trew, or living or else dead,
Withhold, O soverayne prince, your hasty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
Through weaknesse of my widowhed or woe:
For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead,
And shall finde friends, if need requireth soe.
So bids thee well to fare, thy neither friend nor foe.
"FIDESSA."

When he these bitter byting wordes had red,
The tydings straunge did him abashed make,
That still he sate long time astonished,
As in great muse, ne word to creature spake.
At last his solemn silence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
"Redoubted knight, that for myne only sake
Thy life and honor late adventurest;

Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest

"What meane these bloody vowes and idle threats,
Throwne out from womanish impatient mynd?
What Hevens? what altars? what enraged heates,
Here heaped up with termes of love unkynd,
My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bynd?
High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame!
But if yourselfe, sir Knight, ye faulty fynd,
Or wrapped be in loves of former dame,

So fairely dight when she in presence came,

She to her syre made humble reverence,
And bowed low, that her right well became,
And added grace unto her excellence:
Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence
Thus gan to say-But, care he thus had sayd,
With flying speede, and seeming great pretence,
Came running in, much like a man dismayd,
A messenger with letters, which his message sayd.

All in the open hall amazed stood

At suddeinnesse of that unwary sight,
And wondred at his breathlesse hasty mood;
But be for nought would stay his passage right,
Till fast before the king he did alight;
Where falling flat great humblesse he did make,
And kist the ground whereon his foot was pight;
Then to his handes that writt he did betake,
Which he disclosing, read thus, as the paper spake;

To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent ;
"My lord, my king; be nought hereat dismayd,
Till well ye wote by grave intendiment,
What woman, and wherefore, doth me upbrayd
With breach of love and loialty betrayd.
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward

I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd
Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard;
That day should faile me ere I had them all declard.

"There did I find, or rather I was fownd
Of this false woman that Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest dame on grownd,
Most false Duessa, royal richly dight,
That easy was t' inveigle weaker sight:
Who by her wicked arts and wiely skill,
Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.”

OF

95

❤

Him therefore now the obiect of his spight
And deadly food he makes: him to offend
By forged treason, or by open fight,
He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end:
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,
His practick witt and his fayre fyled tonge,
With thousand other sleightes; for well he kend
His credit now in doubtful! ballaunce hong :
For hardly could bee hurt, who was already stong.
Still, as he went, he craftie stales did lay,
With cunning traynes him to entrap nnwares,
And privy spyals plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;
To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.
But now so wise and wary was the knight
By tryall of his former harmes and cares,
That he descryde, and shonned still, his slight:
The fish, that once was caught, new bayt wil hardly
byte.

Nath'lesse th' enchaunter would not spare his payne,
In hope to win occasion to his will:
Which when he long awaited had in vayne,
He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill:
For to all good he enimy was still.
Upon the way him fortuned to meete,
Fayre marching underneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,
That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and upright;
His countenance demure and temperate;
But yett so sterne and terrible in sight,

That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate:
He was an Elfin borne, of noble state
And mickle worship in his native land;
Well could he tourney, and in lists debate,
And knighthood tooke of good sir Huons hand,
When with king Oberon he came to Fary land,
Him als accompanyd upon the way
A comely palmer, clad in black attyre,
Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray,
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:
And, if by lookes one may the mind aread,
He seemd to be a sage and sober syre;
And ever with slow pace the knight did lead,

Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps

to tread.

▾ And great atchiev'ments, great yourselfe to make, Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake."

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,
And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt':
Who feigning then in every limb to quake
Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt,
With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt;
"Dear lady! how shall I declare thy cace,
Whom late I left in languorous constraynt?
Would God! thyselfe now present were in place
To tell this ruefull tale: thy sight could win thee
grace:

"Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst,
That you, most noble sir, had present beene
When that lude rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst,
Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene,
To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene
As on the Earth, great mother of us all,
With living eye more fayre was never seene
Of chastity and honour virginall:
[cal!!
Witnes, ye Heavens, whom she in vaine to help did

"How may it be," sayd then the knight halfe wroth, "That knight should knighthood ever so have shent?" [troth, "None but that saw," quoth he, "would weene for How shamefully that mayd he did torment: Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent, And drew her on the ground; and his sharpe sword Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent, And threatned death with many a bloodie word; Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to see abhord." Therewith amoved from his sober mood, [act ? "And lives he yet," said he, "that wrought this And doen the Heavens afford him vitall food ?" "He lives," quoth he, "and boasteth of the fact, Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt." "Where may that treachour then," sayd he, "be

found,

Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?" "That I shall shew," said he, "as sure as hound The stricken deare doth chaleng by the bleeding

wound."

He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre
And zealous haste away is quickly gone

To seeke that knight, where him that crafty squyre
Supposd to be. They do arrive anone
Where sate a gentle lady all alone,
With garments rent, and heare discheveled,
Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone:
Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,
And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered,
The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said;
"Faire lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight,
Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd,
And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:
Forthy appease your griefe and heavy plight,
And tell the cause of your conceived payne;

For, if he live that hath you doen despight,
He shall you doe dew recompence agayne,
Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine."
Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise
She wilfully her sorrow did augment,
And offre hope of comfort did despise :
Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,
And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment;
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,
But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene:

Till her that squire bespake; "Madame, my liefe,
For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent,
But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you present.
For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment
When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,
And the weake minde with double woe torment ?"
When she her squyre heard speake, she gan appease
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said, "Ah! gentle trustie squyre,
What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave!
Or why should ever I henceforth desyre
To see faire Heavens face, and life not leave,
Sith that false traytour did my honour reave?"
"False traytour certes," saide the Faerie knight,
"I read the man, that ever would deceave
A gentle lady, or her wrong through might:
Death were too litle paine for such a fowle despight.

"But now, fayre lady, comfort to you make,
And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull
plight,

That short revenge the man may overtake,
Whereso he be, and soone upon him light."
"Certes," said she, "I wote not how he hight,
But under him a gray steede he did wield,
Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;
Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

He bore a bloodie crosse, that quartred all the field."

“Now by my head,” said Guyon, “much I muse,
How that same knight should doe so fowie amis,
Or ever gentle damzell so abuse:
For may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and true of word ywis:
I present was, and can it witnesse well,

When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris
Th' adventure of the errant damozell;

In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tell.

"Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,
And fairely quit him of th' imputed blame;
Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde,
Or make you good amendment for the same:
All wrongs have mendes, but no ameudes of shame.
Now therefore, lady, rise out of your paine,
And see the salving of your blotted name."
Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;
For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such as she did faine,
Ne yet her person such as it was seene;
But under simple shew, and sembiant plaine,
Larkt false Duessa secretly unseene,
As a chaste virgin that had wronged beene;
So had false Archimago her disguysd,
To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;
And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

To be her squire, and do her service well aguisd.

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found
Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,
Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground,
And with greene mosse cov'ring her nakednesse
To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,
Sith her prince Arthur of proud ornaments
And borrowd beauty spoyld: her nathëlesse
Th' enchaunter finding fit for his intents

Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

For all be did was to deceive good knights,
And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame
To sing in slouth and sensuall delights,
And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.
And now exceeding griefe him overcame,
To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye;
Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,
Against his praise to stirre up enmitye
Of such, as vertues like mote unto him aliye.
VOL III.

[last

So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way
Through woods and mountaines, till they came at
Into a pleasant dale that lovly lay
Betwixt two hils, whose high beads, overplast,
The valley did with coole shade overcast ;
Through midst thereof a little river rold,
By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,
Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,
After his travell long and labours manifold.
"Lo! yonder he," cryde Archimage alowd,
"That wrought the shamefull fact which I did
And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd, [show;
To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew;
But vaine; for ye shall dearely do him rew:
(So God ye speed and send you good successe!)
Which we far off will here abide to vew."
So they him left inflam'd with wrathfulnesse,
That streight against that knight his speare he did
addresse.

Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,
His warlike armes about him gan embrace,
And in the rest his ready speare did sticke;
Tho, whenas still he saw him towards pace,
He gan rencounter him in equall race.
They bene ymett, both ready to affrap,
When suddenly that warriour gan abace
His threatned speare, as if some new mishap
Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap;
And cryde, "Mercie, sir Knight! and mercie, lord,
For mine offence and heedelesse hardiment,
That had almost committed crime abhord,
And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,
Whiles cursed steele against that badge 1 bent,
The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,
Which on your shield is set for ornament!"
But his fierce foe his steed could stay uneath,
Who, prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell
breath.

But, when he heard him speake, streight way he
His errour; and, himselfe inclyning, sayd; [knew
"Ah! deare sir Guyon, well becommeth you,
But me behoveth rather to upbrayd,
Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd,
That almost it did haynous violence

On that fayre ymage of that heavenly mayd,
That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:
Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew offence."
So beene they both atone, and doen upreare
Their bevers bright each other for to greet;
Goodly comportaunce each to other beare,
And entertaine themselves with court'sies meet.
Then said the Redcrosse knight, "Now motel weet,
Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce,
And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet;
For, sith I know your goodly gouvernance,
Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some uncouth
chaunce."