To whom the elder did this aunswere frame;
"Then weet ye, sir, that we two brethren be,
To whom our sire, Milesio by name,
Did equally bequeath his lands in fee,

Two islands, which ye there before you see
Not farre in sea; of which the one appeares
But like a little mount of small degree;
Yet was as great and wide ere many years,
As that same other isle, that greater bredth now
beares.

"But tract of time, that all things doth decay,
And this devouring sea, that nought doth spare,
The most part of my land hath washt away,
And throwne it up unto my brothers share:
So his encreased, but mine did empaire.
Before which time I lov'd, as was my lot,
That further mayd, hight Philtera the faire,
With whom a goodly doure I should have got,
And should have ioyned bene to her in wedlocks knot.

"Then did my younger brother Amidas
Love that same other damzell, Lucy bright,
To whom but little dowre allotted was:
Her vertue was the dowre that did delight:
What better dowre can to a dame be hight?
But now, when Philtra saw my lands decay
And former livel'od fayle, she left me quight,
And to my brother did elope streightway:
Who, taking her from me, his owne love left astray.

"She, seeing then herselfe forsaken so,
Through dolorous despaire which she conceyved,
Jato the sea herselfe did headlong throw,
Thinking to have her griefe by death bereaved;
But see how much her purpose was deceived!
Whilest thus, amidst the billowes beating of her,
Twixt life and death long to and fro she weaved,
She chaunst unwares to light upon this coffer,
Which to her in that daunger hope of life did offer

"The wretched mayd, that earst desir'd to die,
Whenas the paine of death she tasted had,
And but halfe seene his ugly visnomie,
Gan to repent that she had beene so mad
For any death to change life, though most bad:
And catching hold of this sea-beaten chest,
(The lucky pylot of her passage sad)
After long tossing in the seas distrest,
Her weary barke at last uppon mine isle did rest.

"Where I by chaunce then wandring on the shore
Did her espy, and through my good endevour
From dreadfull mouth of death, which threatned sore
Her to have swallow'd up, did helpe to save her.
She then in recompence of that great favour,
Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me
The portion of that good which fortune gave her,
Together with herselfe in dowry free;
Both goodly portions, but of both the better she.

"Yet in this coffer which she with her brought
Great threasure sithence we did finde contained;
Which as our owne we tooke, and so it thought:
But this same other damzell since hath fained
That to herselfe that threasure appertained;
And that she did transport the same by sea,
To bring it to her husband new ordained,
But suffred cruell shipwracke by the way:
But, whether it be so or no, I cannot say.

"But, whether it indeede be so or no,
This doe I say, that whatso good or ill
Or God or Fortune unto me did throw,
(Not wronging any other by my will)
I hold mine owne, and so will hold it still.
And though my land the first did winne away,
And then my love, (though now it little skill)
Yet my good lucke he shall not likewise pray;
But I will it defend whilst ever that I may."

So having sayd, the younger did ensew;
"Full true it is whatso about our land
My brother here declared hath to you:
But not for it this ods twixt us doth stand,
But for this threasure throwne uppon his strand;
Which well I prove, as shall appeare by triall,
To be this maides with whom I fastned hand,
Known by good markes and perfect good espiall:
Therefore it ought be rendred her without deniall."
When they thus ended had, the knight began;
"Certes your strife were easie to accord,
Would ye remit it to some righteous man."
"Unto yourselfe," said they," we give our word,
To bide that iudgement ye shall us afford."
"Then for assurance to my doome to stand,
Under my foote let each lay downe his sword;
And then you shall my sentence understand."
So each of them layd downe his sword out of his
hand.

Then Artegall thus to the younger sayd;
"Now tell me, Amidas, if that ye may,
Your brothers land the which the sea hath layd
Unto your part, and pluckt from his away,

".

By what good right doe you withhold this day?"
What other right," quoth he," should you esteeme,
But that the sea it to my share did lay?"
"Your right is good," sayd he, " and so I deeme,
That what the sea unto you sent your own should
seeme."

Then turning to the elder thus he sayd;
"Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be showne;
Your brothers threasure, which from him is strayd,
Being the dowry of his wife well knowne,

By what right doe you claime to be your owne ?"
"What other right," quoth he, should you esteeme,
But that the sea hath it unto me throwne?"
"Your right is good," sayd he, "and so I deeme,
That what the sea unto you sent your own should

seeme.

"For equall right in equall things doth stand:
For what the mighty sea hath once possest,
And plucked quite from all possessors hand,
Whether by rage of waves that never rest,
Or else by wracke that wretches hath distrest,
He may dispose by his imperiall might,
As thing at random left, to whom he list.
So, Amidas, the land was yours first hight;
And so the threasure yours is, Bracidas, by right."
When he his sentence thus pronounced had,
Both Amidas and Philtra were displeased:
But Bracidas and Lucy were right glad,
And on the threasure by that iudgement seased.
So was their discord by this doome appeased,
And each one had his right. Then Artegall,
Whenas their sharpe contention he had ceased,
Departed on his way, as did befall,

To follow his old quest, the which him forth did call.

With that, like one that hopelesse was repryv'd
From deathës dore at which he lately lay,
Those yron fetters wherewith he was gyv'd,
The badges of reproch, he threw away,

And nimbly did him dight to guide the way
Unto the dwelling of that Amazone:
Which was from thence not past a mile or tway;
A goodly citty and a mighty one,

The which, of her owne name, she called Radegone.

Where they arriving by the watchmen were
Descried streight; who all the citty warned
How that three warlike persons did appeare,
Of which the one him seem'd a knight all armed,
And th' other two well likely to have harmed.
Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran,
And like a sort of bees in clusters swarmed:
Ere long their queene herselfe, halfe like a man,
Came forth into the rout, and them t'array began.

And now the knights, being arrived neare,
Did beat uppon the gates to enter in;
And at the porter, skorning them so few,
Threw many threats, if they the towne did win,
To teare his flesh in pieces for his sin:
Which whenas Radigund there comming heard,
Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth did grin:
She bad that streight the gates should be unbard,
And to them way to make with weapons well pre-
pard.

Soone as the gates were open to them set,

They pressed forward, entraunce to have made: But in the middle way they were ymet

Like to an eagle, in his kingly pride

Soring through his wide empire of the aire,
To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce hath spide
A goshauke, which hath seized for her share
Uppon some fowle, that should her feast prepare;
With dreadfull force he flies at her bylive,
That with his souce, which none enduren dare,
Her from the quarry he away doth drive,
And from her griping pounce the greedy prey doth
rive.

But, soone as she her sence recover'd had,
She fiercely towards him herseife gan dight,
Through vengeful wrath and sdeignfull pride half
For never had she suffred such despight: [mad;
But, ere she could joyne hand with him to fight,
Her warlike maides about her flockt so fast,
That they disparted them, maugre their might,
And with their troupes did far asunder cast:
But mongst the rest the fight did untill evening last.

And every while that mighty yron man
With his strange weapon, never wont in warre,
Them sorely vext, and courst, and over-ran,
And broke their bowes, and did their shooting marre,
That none of all the many once did darre
Him to assault, nor once approach him nie;
But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre,
For dread of their devouring enemie,
Through all the fields and vallies did before him flie.

But whenas daies faire shinie beame, yclowded With fearefull shadowes of deformed night, Warn'd man and beast in quiet rest be shrowded,

And better bad advise, ere they assaid
Unknowen perill of bold womens pride.
Then all that rout uppon them rudely laid,

And heaped strokes so fast on every side, [abide.
And arrowes haild so thicke, that they could not

But Radigund herselfe, when she espide
Sir Terpin from her direfull doome acquit
So cruell doale amongst her maides divide,
Tavenge that shame they did on him commit,
All sodainely enflam'd with furious fit
Like a fell lionesse at him she flew,
And on his head-piece him so fiercely smit,
That to the ground him quite she overthrew,
Dismayd so with the stroke that he no colours knew.

Soone as she saw him on the ground to grovell,
She lightly to him leapt; and, in his necke
Her proud foote setting, at his head did levell,
Weening at once her wrath on him to wreake,
And his contempt, that did her judgment breake:
As when a beare hath seiz'd her cruell clawes
Uppon the carkasse of some beast too weake,
Proudly stands over, and awhile doth pause [cause.
To heare the piteous beast pleading her plaintiffe

Whom whenas Artegall in that distresse

By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy slaughter
In which he swam, and ranne to his redresse:
There her assayling fiercely fresh he raught her
Such an huge stroke, that it of sence distraught her;
And, had she not it warded warily,

It had depriv'd her mother of a daughter:
Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply

When thus the field was voided all away,
And all things quieted; the Elfin knight,
Weary of toile and travell of that day,
Causd his pavilion to be richly pight
Before the city-gate in open sight;
Where he himselfe did rest in safety
Together with sir Terpin all that night:
But Talus usde, in times of ieopardy,
To keepe a nightly watch for dread of treachery

But Radigund, full of heart-gnawing griefe
For the rebuke which she sustain'd that day,
Could take no rest, ne would receive reliefe;
But tossed in her troublous minde what way
She mote revenge that blot which on her lay.
There she resolv'd herselfe in single fight
To try her fortune, and his force assay,
Rather than see her people spoiled quight,
As she had seene that day, a disadventerous sight.

She called forth to her a trusty mayd,
Whom she thought fittest for that businesse;
Her name was Clarin, and thus to her sayd;
"Goe, damzell, quickly, doe thyselfe addresse
To doe the message which I shall expresse :
Goe thou unto that stranger Faery knight,
Who yesterday drove us to such distresse;
Tell, that to morrow I with him will fight,

"But these conditions doe to him propound;
That, if I vanquishe him, he shall obay
My law, and ever to my lore be bound;
And so will I, if me he vanquish may;
Whatever he shall like to doe or say:

Goe streight, and take with thee to witnesse it
Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array,
And beare with you both wine and iuncates fit,
And bid him eate: henceforth he oft shall hungry
sit."

The damzell streight obayd; and, putting all
In readinesse, forth to the town-gate went;
Where, sounding loud a trumpet from the wall,
Unto those warlike knights she warning sent.
Then Talus forth issuing from the tent
Unto the wall his way did fearelesse take,
To weeten what that trumpets sounding ment:
Where that same damzell lowdly him bespake,
And shew'd that with his lord she would empar-
launce make.

So he them streight conducted to his lord;
Who, as he could, them goodly well did greete,
Till they had told their message word by word:
Which he accepting, well as he could weete,
Them fairely entertaynd with curt'sies meete,
And gave them gifts and things of deare delight:
So backe againe they homeward turn'd their feete;
But Artegall himselfe to rest did dight,

That he mote fresher be against the next daies fight.

CANTO V.

Artegall fights with Radigund, And is subdew'd by guile: He is by her emprisoned,

But wrought by Clarins wile.

So soone as Day forth dawning from the east
Nights humid curtaine from the Heavens withdrew,
And earely calling forth both man and beast
Commaunded them their daily workes renew;
These noble warriors mindefull to pursew
The last daies purpose of their vowed fight,
Themselves thereto preparde in order dew;
The knight, as best was seeming for a knight,
And th' Amazon, as best it likt herselfe to dight.

All in a camis light of purple silke
Woven uppon with silver, subtly wrought,
And quilted uppon sattin white as milke;
Trayled with ribbands diversly distraught,
Like as the workeman had their courses taught;
Which was short tucked for light motion

Up to her ham; but, when she list, it raught
Downe to her lowest heele, and thereuppon
She wore for her defence a mayled habergeon.

And on her legs she painted buskins wore,
Basted with bends of gold on every side,
And mailes betweene, and laced close afore;
Uppon her thigh her cemitare was tide
With an embrodered belt of mickell pride;
And on her shoulder hung her shield, bedeckt
Uppon the bosse with stones that shined wide,
As the faire Moone in her most full aspect;
That to the Moone it mote be like in each respect.

So forth she came out of the citty-gate
With stately port and proud magnificence,
Guarded with many damzels that did waite
Uppon her person for her sure defence,
Playing on shaumes and trumpets, that from hence
Their sound did reach unto the Heavens hight:
So forth into the field she marched thence,
Where was a rich pavilion ready pight

Her to receive, till time they should begin the fight.

Then forth came Artegall out of his tent,
All arm'd to point, and first the lists did enter:
Soone after eke came she with full intent
And countenaunce fierce, as having fully bent her
That battels utmost triall to adventer.
The lists were closed fast, to barre the rout
From rudely pressing on the middle center;
Which in great heapes them circled all about,
Wayting how fortune would resolve that dangerous
dout.

The trumpets sounded, and the field began;
With bitter strokes it both began and ended.
She at the first encounter on him ran
With furious rage, as if she had intended
Out of his breast the very heart have rended:
But he, that had like tempests often tride,
From that first flaw himselfe right well defended.
She hewd, she foynd, she lasht, she laid on every
The more she rag'd, the more he did abide; [side,

Yet still her blowes he bore, and her forbore,
Weening at last to win advantage new;
Yet still her crueltie increased more,

And, though powre faild, her courage did accrew;
Which fayling, he gan fiercely her pursew:
Like as a smith, that to his cunning feat
The stubborne mettall seeketh to subdew,
Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat,

With his great yron sledge doth strongly on it beat,

So did sir Artegall upon her lay,
That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray,
As if she had an yron andvile beene,
Out of her steely armes were flashing seene,
That all on fire ye would her surely weene:
But with her shield so well herselfe she warded
From the dread daunger of his weapon keene,
That all that while her life she safely garded; [ed.
But he that helpe from her against her will discard-

For with his trenchant blade at the next blow
Halfe of her shield he shared quite away,
That halfe her side itseife did naked show,
And thenceforth unto daunger opened way.
Much was she moved with the mightie sway
Of that sad stroke, that halfe enrag'd she grew;
And like a greedie beare unto her pray
With her sharpe cemitare at him she flew,
That glauncing downe his thigh the purple bloud
forth drew.

Thereat she gan to triumph with great boast,
And to upbrayd that chaunce which him misfell,
As if the prize she gotten had almost,
With spightfull speaches, fitting with her well;
That his great hart gan inwardly to swell
With indignation at her vaunting vaine,
And at her strooke with puissaunce fearefull fell;
Yet with her shield she warded it againe,
That shattered all to pieces round about the plaine,

Having her thus disarmed of her shield,
Upon her helmet he againe her strooke,
That downe she fell upon the grassie field
In sencelesse swoune, as if her life forsooke,
And pangs of death her spirit overtooke:
Whom when he saw before his foote prostrated,
He to her lept with deadly dreadfull looke,
And her sun-shynie helmet soone unlaced,
Thinking at once both head and helmet to have
raced.

But, whenas he discovered had her face,
He saw, his senses straunge astonishment,
A miracle of Natures goodly grace
In her faire visage voide of ornament,
But bath'd in bloud and sweat together ment;
Which, in the rudenesse of that evill plight,
Bewrayd the signes of feature excellent :
Like as the Moone, in foggie winters night, [light.
Doth seeme to be herselfe, though darkned be her

At sight thereof his cruell minded hart
Empierced was with pittifull regard,
That his sharpe sword he threw from him apart,
Cursing his hand that had that visage mard:
No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard,
But ruth of beautie will it mollifie.
By this, upstarting from her swoune she star'd
A while about her with confused eye;

Like one that from his dreame is waked suddenlye.
Soone as the knight she there by her did spy
Standing with emptie hands all weaponlesse,
With fresh assault upon him she did fly,
And gan renew her former cruelnesse:
And though he still retyr'd, yet nathëlesse
With huge redoubled strokes she on him layd;
And more increast her outrage mercilesse,
The more that he with meeke intreatie prayd
Her wrathful hand from greedy vengeance to have
stayd.

Like as a puttocke having spyde in sight
A gentle faulcon sitting on an hill,
Whose other wing, now made unmeete for flight,
Was lately broken by some fortune ill;
The foolish kyte, led with licentious will,
Doth beat upon the gentle bird in vaine,
With many idle stoups her troubling still:
Even so did Radigund with bootlesse paine
Annoy this noble knight, and sorely him constraine.
Nought could he do but shun the dred despight
Of her fierce wrath, and backward still retyre;
And with his single shield, well as he might,
Beare off the burden of her raging yre;
And evermore he gently did desyre

To stay her strokes, and he himselfe would yield:
Yet nould she hearke, ne let him once respyre,
Till he to her delivered had his shield,
And to her mercie him submitted in plaine field.

So was he overcome, not overcome;
But to her yeelded of his owne accord;
Yet was he justly damned by the doome

Of his owne mouth, that spake so warelesse word,
To be her thrall and service her afford:

For though that he first victorie obtayned,

Yet after, by abandoning his sword,
He wilfull lost that he before attayned:

Tho with her sword on him she flatling strooke,
In signe of true subiection to her powre,
And as her vassall him to thraldome tooke:
But Terpine, borne to' a more unhappy howre,
As he on whom the lucklesse starres did lowre,
She causd to be attacht and forthwith led
Unto the crooke, t' abide the balefull stowre
From which he lately had through reskew fled:
Where he full shamefully was hanged by the hed.

But, when they thought on Talus hands to lay,
He with his yron flaile amongst them thondred,
That they were fayne to let him scape away,
Glad from his companie to be so sondred;
Whose presence all their troups so much encombred,
That th' heapes of those which he did wound and

slay,

Besides the rest dismayd, might not be nombred:
Yet all that while he would not once assay
To reskew his owpe lord, but thought it iust t' obay.

Then tooke the Amazon this noble knight,
Left to her will by his owne wilfull blame,
And caused him to be disarmed quight
Of all the ornaments of knightly name,
With which whylome he gotten had great fame:
Instead whereof she made him to be dight
In womans weedes, that is to manhood shame,
And put before his lap an apron white,
Instead of curiets and bases fit for fight.

So being clad she brought him from the field,
In which he had bene trayned many a day,
Into a long large chamber, which was field
With moniments of many knights decay
By her subdewed in victorious fray:
Amongst the which she causd hf warlike armes
Be hang'd on high, that mote his shame bewray;
And broke his sword for feare of further harmes,
With which he wont to stirre up battailous alarmes.

Who had him seene, imagine mote thereby
That whylome hath of Hercules bene told,
How for lolas sake he did apply

His mightie hands the distaffe vile to hold
For his huge club, which had subdew'd of old
So many monsters which the world annoyed;
His lyons skin chaungd to a pall of gold,
In which, forgetting warres, he onely ioyed

[ed.

VOL IIL