SPENSER’S FAERIE QUEENE (continued 5)

Feare gaue her wings, and rage enforst my flight; xxxii Through woods and plaines so long I did her chace, Till this mad man, whom your victorious might Hath now fast bound, me met in middle space, As I her, so he me pursewd apace, And shortly ouertooke: I,[572] breathing yre, Sore chauffed at my stay in such a cace, And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre; Which kindled once, his mother did more rage inspyre. Betwixt them both, they haue me doen to dye, xxxiii Through wounds, and strokes, and stubborne handeling, That death were better, then such agony, As griefe and furie vnto me did bring; Of which in me yet stickes the mortall sting, That during life will neuer be appeasd. When he thus ended had his sorrowing, Said Guyon, Squire, sore haue ye beene diseasd; But all your hurts may soone through temperance be easd. Then gan the Palmer thus, Most[573] wretched man, xxxiv That to affections does the bridle lend; In their beginning they are weake and wan, But soone through suff’rance grow to fearefull end; Whiles they are weake betimes with them contend: For when they once to perfect strength do grow, Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend Gainst fort of Reason, it to ouerthrow: Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue this Squire haue layd thus low. Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue do thus expell: xxxv Wrath is a fire, and gealosie a weede, Griefe is a flood, and loue a monster fell; The fire of sparkes, the weede of little seede, The flood of drops, the Monster filth did breede: But sparks, seed, drops, and filth do thus delay; The sparks soone quench, the springing seed outweed,[574] The drops dry vp, and filth wipe cleane away: So shall wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue dye and decay.

Vnlucky Squire (said Guyon) sith thou hast xxxvi Falne into[575] mischiefe through intemperaunce, Henceforth take heede of that thou now hast past, And guide thy wayes with warie gouernaunce, Least worse betide thee by some later chaunce. But read how art thou nam’d, and of what kin. Phedon[576] I hight (quoth he) and do aduaunce Mine auncestry from famous Coradin, Who first to rayse our house to honour did begin. Thus as he spake, lo far away they spyde xxxvii A varlet running towards hastily, Whose flying feet so fast their way applyde, That round about a cloud of dust did fly, Which mingled all with sweate, did dim his eye. He soone approched, panting, breathlesse, whot, And all so soyld, that none could him descry; His countenaunce was bold, and bashed not For Guyons lookes, but scornefull eyglaunce at him shot. Behind his backe he bore a brasen shield, xxxviii On which was drawen faire, in colours fit, A flaming fire in midst of bloudy field, And round about the wreath this word was writ, Burnt I do burne. Right well beseemed it, To be the shield of some redoubted knight; And in his hand two darts exceeding flit, And deadly sharpe he held, whose heads were dight In poyson and in bloud, of malice and despight. When he in presence came, to Guyon first xxxix He boldly spake, Sir knight, if knight thou bee, Abandon this forestalled place at erst, For feare of further harme, I counsell thee, Or bide the chaunce at thine owne ieoperdie. The knight at his great boldnesse wondered, And though he scornd his idle vanitie, Yet mildly him to purpose answered; For not to grow of nought he it coniectured.

Varlet, this place most dew to me I deeme, xl Yielded by him, that held it forcibly. But whence should come that harme, which thou doest seeme To threat to him, that minds his chaunce t’abye? Perdy (said he) here comes, and is hard by A knight of wondrous powre, and great assay, That neuer yet encountred enemy, But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dismay; Ne thou for better hope, if thou his presence stay. How hight he then (said Guyon) and from whence? xli Pyrochles[577] is his name, renowmed farre For his bold feats and hardy confidence, Full oft approu’d in many a cruell warre, The brother of Cymochles, both which arre The sonnes of old Acrates and Despight, Acrates sonne of Phlegeton and Iarre; But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and Night; But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is hight. So from immortall race he does proceede, xlii That mortall hands may not withstand his might, Drad for his derring do, and bloudy deed; For all in bloud and spoile is his delight. His am I Atin, his in wrong and right, That matter make for him to worke vpon, And stirre him vp to strife and cruell fight. Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon, Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad confusion. His be that care, whom most it doth concerne, xliii (Said he) but whither with such hasty flight Art thou now bound? for well mote I discerne Great cause, that carries thee so swift and light. My Lord (quoth he) me sent, and streight behight To seeke Occasion,[578] where so she bee: For he is all disposd to bloudy fight, And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltie; Hard is his hap, that first fals in his ieopardie.

Madman (said then the Palmer) that does seeke xliv Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife; She comes vnsought, and shonned followes eke. Happy, who can abstaine, when Rancour rife Kindles Reuenge, and threats his rusty knife; Woe neuer wants, where euery cause is caught, And rash Occasion makes vnquiet life. Then loe, where bound she sits, whom thou hast sought, (Said Guyon,) let that message to thy Lord be brought. That when the varlet heard and saw, streight way xlv He wexed wondrous wroth, and said, Vile knight, That knights and knighthood doest with shame vpbray, And shewst th’ensample of thy childish might, With silly weake old woman thus to[579] fight. Great glory and gay spoile sure hast thou got, And stoutly prou’d thy puissaunce here in sight; That shall Pyrochles well requite, I wot, And with thy bloud abolish so reprochfull blot. With that one of his thrillant darts he threw, xlvi Headed with ire and vengeable despight; The quiuering steele his aymed end well knew, And to his brest it selfe intended right: But he was warie, and ere it empight In the meant marke, aduaunst his shield atweene, On which it seizing, no way enter might, But backe rebounding, left the forckhead keene; Eftsoones he fled away, and might no where be seene.

Pyrochles does with Guyon fight, And Furors chayne vnbinds:[580] Of whom sore hurt, for his reuenge Atin Cymochles finds.[581]

Who euer doth to temperaunce apply i His stedfast life, and all his actions frame, Trust me, shall find no greater enimy, Then stubborne perturbation, to the same; To which right well the wise do giue that name, For it the goodly peace of stayed mindes Does ouerthrow, and troublous warre proclame: His owne woes authour, who so bound it findes, As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully vnbindes. After that varlets flight, it was not long, ii Ere on the plaine fast pricking Guyon spide One in bright armes embatteiled full strong, That as the Sunny beames do glaunce and glide Vpon the trembling waue, so shined bright, And round about him threw forth sparkling fire, That seemd him to enflame on euery side: His steed was bloudy red, and fomed ire, When with the maistring spur he did him roughly stire. Approching nigh, he neuer stayd to greete, iii Ne chaffar[582] words, prowd courage to prouoke, But prickt so fiers, that vnderneath his feete The smouldring dust did round about him smoke, Both horse and man nigh able for to choke; And fairly couching his steele-headed speare, Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke; It booted nought Sir Guyon comming neare To thinke, such hideous puissaunce on foot to beare.

But lightly shunned it, and passing by, iv With his bright blade did smite at him so fell, That the sharpe steele arriuing forcibly On his broad shield, bit not, but glauncing fell On his horse necke before the quilted sell,[583] And from the head the body sundred quight. So him dismounted low, he did compell On foot with him to matchen equall fight; The truncked beast fast bleeding, did him fowly dight. Sore bruzed with the fall, he slow vprose, v And all enraged, thus him loudly shent; Disleall knight, whose coward courage chose To wreake it selfe on beast all innocent, And shund the marke, at which it should be ment, Thereby thine armes seeme strong, but manhood fraile; So hast thou oft with guile thine honour blent; But litle may such guile thee now auaile, If wonted force and fortune do not much me faile[584]. With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke vi At him so fiercely, that the vpper marge Of his seuenfolded shield away it tooke, And glauncing on his helmet, made a large And open gash therein: were not his targe, That broke the violence of his intent, The weary soule from thence it would discharge; Nathelesse so sore a buff to him it lent, That made him reele, and to his brest his beuer bent. Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow, vii And much ashamd, that stroke of liuing arme Should him dismay, and make him stoup so low, Though otherwise it did him litle harme: Tho hurling high his yron braced arme, He smote so manly on his shoulder plate, That all his left side it did quite disarme; Yet there the steele stayd not, but inly bate Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate.

Deadly dismayd, with horrour of that dint viii Pyrochles was, and grieued eke entyre; Yet nathemore did it his fury stint, But added flame vnto his former fire, That welnigh molt his hart in raging yre, Ne thenceforth his approued skill, to ward, Or strike, or hurtle[585] round in warlike[586] gyre, Remembred he, ne car’d for his saufgard, But rudely rag’d, and like a cruell Tygre far’d. He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thundred blowes, ix And euery way did seeke into his life, Ne plate, ne male could ward so mighty throwes, But yielded passage to his cruell knife. But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife, Was warie wise, and closely did awayt Auauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife; Sometimes a thwart, sometimes he strooke him strayt, And falsed oft his blowes, t’illude him with such bayt. Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre x A prowd rebellious Vnicorne defies, T’auoide the rash assault and wrathfull stowre Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applies, And when him running in full course he spies, He slips aside; the whiles that furious beast His precious horne, sought of his enimies[587], Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast[588], But to the mighty victour yields a bounteous feast. With such faire slight him Guyon often faild, xi Till at the last all breathlesse, wearie, faint Him spying, with fresh onset he assaild, And kindling new his courage seeming queint, Strooke him so hugely, that through great constraint He made him stoup perforce vnto his knee, And do vnwilling worship to the Saint, That on his shield depainted he did see; Such homage till that instant neuer learned hee.

Whom Guyon seeing stoup, pursewed fast xii The present offer of faire victory, And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast, Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye, That streight on ground made him full low to lye; Then on his brest his victour foote he thrust, With that he cryde, Mercy, do me not dye, Ne deeme thy force by[589] fortunes doome vniust, That hath (maugre her spight) thus low me laid in dust. Eftsoones his cruell hand Sir Guyon stayd, xiii Tempring the passion with aduizement slow, And maistring might on enimy dismayd: For th’equall dye of warre he well did know; Then to him said, Liue and allegaunce owe, To him that giues thee life and libertie, And henceforth by this dayes ensample trow, That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardrie Do breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamie. So vp he let him rise, who with grim looke xiv And count’naunce sterne vpstanding, gan to grind His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind, Knotted in bloud and dust, for griefe of mind, That he in ods of armes was conquered; Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find, That him so noble knight had maistered, Whose bounty more then might, yet both he wondered. Which Guyon marking said, Be nought agrieu’d, xv Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre: Was neuer man, who most conquestes atchieu’d,[590] But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre, Yet shortly gaynd, that losse exceeded farre: Losse is no shame, nor to be lesse then foe, But to be lesser, then himselfe, doth marre Both loosers lot, and victours prayse alsoe. Vaine others ouerthrowes, who selfe[591] doth ouerthrowe.

Fly, O Pyrochles, fly the dreadfull warre, xvi That in thy selfe thy lesser parts do moue, Outrageous anger, and woe-working iarre, Direfull impatience, and hart murdring loue; Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remoue, Which thee to endlesse bale captiued lead. But sith in might thou didst my mercy proue, Of curtesie to me the cause aread,[592] That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread. Dreadlesse (said he) that shall I soone declare: xvii It was complaind, that thou hadst done great tort Vnto an aged woman, poore and bare, And thralled her in chaines with strong effort, Voide of all succour and needfull comfort: That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see, To worke such shame. Therefore I thee exhort, To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion[593] free, And to her captiue sonne yield his first libertee. Thereat Sir Guyon smilde, And is that all xviii (Said he) that thee so sore displeased hath? Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall, Whose freedome shall thee turne to greatest scath. Nath’lesse now quench thy whot emboyling[594] wrath: Loe there they be; to thee I yield them free. Thereat he wondrous glad, out of the path Did lightly leape, where he them bound did see, And gan to breake the bands of their captiuitee. Soone as Occasion felt her selfe vntyde, xix Before her sonne could well assoyled bee, She to her vse returnd, and streight defyde Both Guyon and Pyrochles: th’one (said shee[595]) Bycause he wonne; the other because hee Was wonne: So matter did she make of nought, To stirre vp strife, and do[596] them disagree: But soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought To kindle his quencht fire, and thousand causes wrought.

It was not long, ere she inflam’d him so, xx That he would algates with Pyrochles fight, And his redeemer chalengd for his foe, Because he had not well mainteind his right, But yielded had to that same straunger knight: Now gan Pyrochles wex as wood, as hee, And him affronted with impatient might: So both together fiers engrasped bee, Whiles Guyon standing by, their vncouth strife does see. Him all that while Occasion did prouoke xxi Against Pyrochles, and new matter framed Vpon the old, him stirring to be wroke Of his late wrongs, in which she oft him blamed For suffering such abuse, as knighthood shamed, And him dishabled quite. But he was wise Ne would with vaine occasions[597] be inflamed; Yet others she more vrgent did deuise: Yet nothing could him to impatience entise. Their fell contention still increased more, xxii And more thereby increased Furors might, That he his foe has hurt, and wounded sore, And him in bloud and durt deformed quight. His mother eke, more to augment his spight[598], Now brought to him a flaming fire[599] brond, Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning bright,[600] Had kindled: that she gaue into his hond, That armd with fire, more hardly he mote him withstond. Tho gan that[601] villein wex so fiers and strong, xxiii That nothing might sustaine his furious forse; He cast him downe to ground, and all along Drew him through durt and myre without remorse, And fowly battered his comely corse, That Guyon much disdeignd so loathly sight. At last he was compeld to cry perforse, Helpe, O Sir Guyon, helpe most noble knight, To rid a wretched man from hands of hellish wight.

The knight was greatly moued at his plaint, xxiv And gan him dight to succour his distresse, Till that the Palmer, by his graue restraint, Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse; And said, Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth represse, Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne: He that his sorrow sought through wilfulnesse, And his foe fettred would release agayne,[602] Deserues to tast his follies fruit, repented payne. Guyon obayd; So him away he drew xxv From needlesse trouble of renewing fight Already fought, his voyage to pursew. But rash Pyrochles varlet, Atin hight, When late he saw his Lord in heauy plight, Vnder Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall, Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight, Fled fast away, to tell his funerall Vnto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call. He was a man of rare redoubted might, xxvi Famous throughout the world for warlike prayse, And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight: Full many doughtie knights he in his dayes Had doen to death, subdewde in equall frayes, Whose carkases, for terrour of his name, Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous prayes, And hong their conquered armes for more defame On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest Dame. His dearest Dame is that Enchaunteresse, xxvii The vile Acrasia, that with vaine delightes, And idle pleasures in her[603] Bowre of Blisse, Does charme her louers, and the feeble sprightes Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes: Whom then she does transforme[604] to monstrous hewes, And horribly misshapes with vgly sightes, Captiu’d eternally in yron mewes, And darksom dens, where Titan his face neuer shewes.

There Atin found Cymochles soiourning, xxviii To serue his Lemans loue: for he,[605] by kind, Was giuen all to lust and loose liuing, When euer his fiers hands he free mote find: And now he has pourd out his idle mind In daintie delices, and lauish ioyes, Hauing his warlike weapons cast behind, And flowes in pleasures, and vaine pleasing toyes, Mingled emongst loose Ladies and lasciuious boyes. And ouer him, art striuing to compaire xxix With nature, did an Arber greene dispred, Framed of wanton Yuie, flouring faire, Through which the fragrant Eglantine did spred His pricking[606] armes, entrayld with roses red, Which daintie odours round about them threw, And all within with flowres was garnished, That when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew, Did breath out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew. And fast beside, there trickled softly downe xxx A gentle streame, whose murmuring waue did play Emongst the pumy stones, and made a sowne, To lull him soft a sleepe, that by it lay; The wearie Traueiler, wandring that way, Therein did often quench his thristy heat, And then by it his wearie limbes display, Whiles creeping slomber made him to forget His former paine, and wypt away his toylsom sweat. And on the other side a pleasaunt groue xxxi Was shot vp high, full of the stately tree, That dedicated is t’Olympicke Ioue, And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee Gaynd in Nemea[607] goodly victoree; Therein the mery birds of euery sort Chaunted alowd their chearefull harmonie: And made emongst them selues a sweet consort, That quickned the dull spright with musicall comfort.

There he him found all carelesly displayd, xxxii In secret shadow from the sunny ray, On a sweet bed of lillies softly layd, Amidst a flocke of Damzels fresh and gay, That round about him dissolute did play Their wanton follies, and light meriment; Euery of which did loosely disaray Her vpper parts of meet habiliments, And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments. And euery of them stroue, with most delights, xxxiii Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew; Some framd faire lookes, glancing like euening lights,[608] Others sweet words, dropping like honny dew; Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew The sugred licour through his melting lips: One boastes her beautie, and does yeeld to vew Her daintie limbes aboue her tender hips; Another her out boastes, and all for tryall strips. He, like an Adder, lurking in the weeds, xxxiv His wandring thought in deepe desire does steepe, And his fraile eye with spoyle of beautie feedes; Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe, Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe, To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt[609], Whereby close fire into his heart does creepe: So, them[610] deceiues, deceiu’d in his deceipt, Made drunke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt. Atin arriuing there, when him he spide, xxxv Thus in still waues of deepe delight to wade, Fiercely approching, to him lowdly cride, Cymochles; oh no, but Cymochles shade, In which that manly person late did fade, What is become of great Acrates sonne? Or where hath he hong vp his mortall blade, That hath so many haughtie conquests wonne? Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne?

Then pricking him with his sharpe-pointed dart, xxxvi He said; Vp,[611] vp, thou womanish weake knight, That here in Ladies lap entombed art, Vnmindfull of thy praise and prowest might, And weetlesse eke of lately wrought despight, Whiles sad Pyrochles lies on senselesse ground, And groneth out his vtmost grudging spright, Through many a stroke, and many a streaming wound, Calling thy helpe in vaine, that here in ioyes art dround. Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame xxxvii The man awoke, and would haue questiond more; But he would not endure that wofull theame For to dilate at large, but vrged sore With percing words, and pittifull implore, Him hastie to arise. As one affright With hellish feends, or Furies mad vprore, He then vprose, inflam’d with fell despight, And called for his armes; for he would algates fight. They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight, xxxviii And lightly mounted, passeth on his way, Ne Ladies loues, ne sweete entreaties might Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay; For he has vowd, to beene aueng’d that day, (That day it selfe him seemed all too long:) On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay: So proudly pricketh on his courser strong, And Atin aie him pricks with spurs of shame and wrong.

Guyon is of immodest Merth[612] led into loose desire, Fights with Cymochles, whiles his brother burnes in furious fire.

A Harder lesson, to learne Continence i In ioyous pleasure, then in grieuous paine: For sweetnesse doth allure the weaker sence So strongly, that vneathes it can refraine From that, which feeble nature couets faine; But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies, And foes of life, she better can restraine[613]; Yet vertue vauntes in both their[614] victories, And Guyon in them all shewes goodly maisteries. Whom bold Cymochles trauelling to find, ii With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him The wrath, which Atin kindled in his mind, Came to a riuer, by whose vtmost brim Wayting to passe, he saw whereas did swim A long the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye, A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim With boughes and arbours wouen cunningly, That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly. And therein sate a Ladie fresh and faire, iii Making sweet solace to her selfe alone; Sometimes she sung, as loud as larke in aire, Sometimes she laught, that nigh her breth was gone,[615] Yet was there not with her else any one, That might to her[616] moue cause of meriment: Matter of merth enough, though there were none,[617] She could deuise, and thousand waies inuent, To feede her foolish humour, and vaine iolliment.

Which when farre off Cymochles heard, and saw, iv He loudly cald to such, as were a bord, The little barke vnto the shore to draw, And him to ferrie ouer that deepe ford: The merry marriner vnto his word Soone hearkned, and her painted bote streightway Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike Lord She in receiu’d; but Atin by no way She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray. Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide, v More swift, then swallow sheres the liquid skie, Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide, Or winged canuas with the wind to flie, Only she turn’d a pin, and by and by It cut away vpon the yielding waue, Ne cared she her course for to apply: For it was taught the way, which she would haue, And both from rocks and flats it selfe could wisely saue. And all the way, the wanton Damzell found vi New merth, her passenger to entertaine: For she in pleasant purpose did abound, And greatly ioyed merry tales to faine, Of which a store-house did with her remaine, Yet seemed, nothing well they her became; For all her words she drownd with laughter vaine, And wanted grace in vtt’ring of the same, That turned all her pleasance to a scoffing game. And other whiles vaine toyes she would deuize vii As her fantasticke wit did most delight, Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize With gaudie girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight About her necke, or rings of rushes plight; Sometimes to doe him laugh, she would assay To laugh at shaking of[618] the leaues light, Or to behold the water worke, and play About her litle frigot, therein making way.

Her light behauiour, and loose dalliaunce viii Gaue wondrous great contentment to the knight, That of his way he had no souenaunce, Nor care of vow’d reuenge, and cruell fight, But to weake wench did yeeld his martiall might. So easie was to quench his flamed mind With one sweet drop of sensuall delight,[619] So easie is, t’appease the stormie wind Of malice in the calme of pleasant womankind. Diuerse discourses in their way they spent, ix Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned, Both what she was, and what that vsage ment, Which in her cot she daily practised. Vaine man (said she) that wouldest be reckoned A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt Of Phædria (for so my name is red) Of Phædria, thine owne fellow seruaunt; For thou to serue Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt. In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name x The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row, That knowes her port, and thither sailes by ayme, Ne care, ne feare I, how the wind do blow, Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow: Both slow and swift a like do serue my tourne, Ne swelling Neptune, ne loud thundring Ioue Can chaunge my cheare, or make me euer mourne; My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne. Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd, xi They were farre past the passage, which he spake, And come vnto an Island, waste and voyd, That floted in the midst of that great lake, There her small Gondelay her port did make, And that gay paire issuing on the shore Disburdned her. Their way they forward take Into the land, that lay them faire before, Whose pleasaunce she him shew’d, and plentifull great store.

It was a chosen plot of fertile land, xii Emongst wide waues set, like a litle nest, As if it had by Natures cunning hand[620] Bene choisely picked out from all the rest, And laid forth for ensample of the best: No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground, No arboret with painted blossomes drest, And smelling sweet, but there it might be found To bud out faire, and her sweet smels throw[621] all around. No tree, whose braunches did not brauely spring; xiii No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sit: No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing; No song but did containe a louely dit: Trees, braunches, birds, and songs were framed fit, For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease. Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake wit Was ouercome of thing, that did him please; So pleased, did his wrathfull purpose faire appease. Thus when she had his eyes and senses fed xiv With false delights, and fild with pleasures vaine, Into a shadie dale she soft him led, And laid him downe vpon a grassie plaine; And her sweet selfe without dread, or disdaine, She set beside, laying his head disarm’d In her loose lap, it softly to sustaine, Where soone he slumbred, fearing not be harm’d, The whiles with a loud[622] lay she thus him sweetly charm’d. Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take,[623] xv The flowres, the fields, and all that pleasant growes, How they themselues doe thine ensample make, Whiles nothing enuious nature them forth throwes Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man[624] knowes, They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire, And deck the world with their rich pompous showes; Yet no man for them taketh paines or care, Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.

The lilly, Ladie of the flowring field, xvi The Flowre-deluce, her louely Paramoure, Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labours yield, And soone leaue off this toylesome wearie stoure; Loe loe how braue she decks her bounteous boure, With silken curtens and gold couerlets, Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Belamoure, Yet neither spinnes nor cardes, ne cares nor frets, But to her mother Nature all her care she lets. Why then dost thou, O man, that of them all xvii Art Lord, and eke of nature Soueraine, Wilfully make thy selfe a wretched thrall, And wast thy ioyous houres in needlesse paine, Seeking for daunger and aduentures vaine? What bootes it all to haue, and nothing vse? Who shall him rew, that swimming in the maine, Will die for thirst[625], and water doth refuse? Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures chuse. By this she had him lulled fast a sleepe, xviii That of no worldly[626] thing he care did take; Then she with liquors strong his eyes did steepe, That nothing should him hastily awake: So she him left, and did her selfe betake Vnto her boat againe, with which she cleft The slouthfull waue[627] of that great griesly[628] lake; Soone she that Island farre behind her left, And now is come to that same place, where first she weft. By this time was the worthy Guyon brought xix Vnto the other side of that wide strond, Where she was rowing, and for passage sought: Him needed not long call, she soone to hond Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond, With his sad guide; himselfe she tooke a boord, But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to stond, Ne would for price, or prayers once affoord, To ferry that old man ouer the perlous foord.

Guyon was loath to leaue his guide behind, xx Yet being entred, might not backe retyre; For the flit barke, obaying to her mind, Forth launched quickly, as she did desire, Ne gaue him leaue to bid that aged sire Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire, Whom neither wind out of their seat could forse, Nor timely tides did driue out of their sluggish sourse. And by the way, as was her wonted guize, xxi Her merry fit she freshly gan to reare, And did of ioy and iollitie deuize, Her selfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare: The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake; But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare, And passe the bonds[629] of modest merimake, Her dalliance he despisd, and follies did forsake. Yet she still followed her former stile, xxii And said, and did all that mote him delight, Till they arriued in that pleasant Ile, Where sleeping late she left her other knight. But when as Guyon of that land had sight, He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said; Ah Dame, perdie ye haue not doen me right, Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obaid: Me litle needed from my right way to haue straid. Faire Sir (quoth she) be not displeasd at all; xxiii Who fares on sea, may not commaund his way, Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call: The sea is wide, and easie for to stray; The wind vnstable, and doth neuer stay. But here a while ye may in safety rest, Till season serue new passage to assay; Better safe port, then be in seas distrest. Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in iest.

But he halfe discontent, mote nathelesse xxiv Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore: The ioyes whereof, and happie fruitfulnesse, Such as he saw,[630] she gan him lay before, And all though pleasant, yet she made much more: The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring, The trees did bud, and earely blossomes bore, And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing, And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling. And she more sweet, then any bird on bough, xxv Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part, And striue to passe (as she could well enough) Their natiue musicke by her skilfull art: So did she all, that might his constant hart Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize, And drowne in dissolute delights apart, Where noyse of armes, or vew of martiall guize Might not reuiue desire of knightly exercize. But he was wise, and warie of her will, xxvi And euer held his hand vpon his hart: Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill, As to despise so courteous seeming part, That gentle Ladie did to him impart, But fairely tempring fond desire subdewd, And euer her desired to depart. She list not heare, but her disports poursewd, And euer bad him stay, till time the tide renewd. And now by this, Cymochles howre was spent, xxvii That he awoke out of his idle dreme, And shaking off his drowzie dreriment, Gan him auize, how ill did him beseeme, In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme, And quench the brond of his conceiued ire. Tho vp he started, stird with shame extreme, Ne staied for his Damzell to inquire, But marched to the strond, there[631] passage to require.

And in the way he with Sir Guyon met, xxviii Accompanyde with Phædria the faire, Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly fret, Crying, Let be that Ladie debonaire, Thou recreant knight, and soone thy selfe prepaire To battell, if thou meane her loue to gaine: Loe, loe alreadie, how the fowles in aire Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtaine Thy carcasse for their pray, the guerdon of thy paine. And therewithall he fiercely at him flew, xxix And with importune[632] outrage him assayld; Who soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew, And him with equall value counteruayld: Their mightie strokes their haberieons dismayld, And naked made each others manly spalles; The mortall steele despiteously entayld Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles, That a large purple streme adown their giambeux falles. Cymochles, that had neuer met before[633] xxx So puissant foe, with enuious despight His proud presumed force increased more, Disdeigning to be held so long in fight; Sir Guyon grudging not so much his might, As those vnknightly raylings, which he spoke, With wrathfull fire his courage kindled bright, Thereof deuising shortly to be wroke, And doubling all his powres, redoubled euery stroke. Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunst, xxxi And both attonce their huge blowes downe did sway; Cymochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst, And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away; But Guyons angry blade so fierce did play On th’others helmet, which as Titan shone, That quite it cloue his plumed crest in tway, And bared all his head vnto the bone; Wherewith astonisht, still he stood, as senselesse stone.

Still as he stood, faire Phædria, that beheld xxxii That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran; And at their feet her selfe most humbly feld, Crying with pitteous voice, and count’nance wan; Ah well away, most noble Lords, how can Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight, To shed your liues on ground? wo worth the man, That first did teach the cursed steele to bight In his owne flesh, and make way to the liuing spright. If euer loue of Ladie did empierce xxxiii Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place, Withhold your bloudie hands from battell fierce, And sith for me ye fight, to me this grace Both yeeld, to stay your deadly strife a space. They stayd a while: and forth she gan proceed: Most wretched woman, and of wicked race, That am the author of this hainous deed, And cause of death betweene two doughtie knights doe breed. But if for me ye fight, or me will serue, xxxiv Not this rude kind of battell, nor these armes Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterue, And dolefull sorrow heape with deadly harmes: Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes: Another warre, and other weapons I Doe loue, where loue does giue his sweet alarmes, Without bloudshed, and where the enemy Does yeeld vnto his foe a pleasant victory. Debatefull strife, and cruell enmitie xxxv The famous name of knighthood fowly shend[634]; But louely peace, and gentle amitie, And in Amours the passing houres to spend, The mightie martiall hands doe most commend; Of loue they euer greater glory bore, Then of their armes: Mars is Cupidoes frend, And is for Venus loues renowmed more, Then all his wars and spoiles, the which he did of yore.

Therewith she sweetly smyld. They though full bent[635] xxxvi To proue extremities of bloudie fight, Yet at her speach their rages gan relent, And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight, Such powre haue pleasing words: such is the might Of courteous clemencie in gentle hart. Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight Besought that Damzell suffer him depart, And yield him readie passage to that other part. She no lesse glad, then he desirous was xxxvii Of his departure thence; for of her ioy And vaine delight she saw he light did pas, A foe of folly and immodest toy, Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy, Delighting all in armes and cruell warre, That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy, Troubled with terrour and vnquiet iarre, That she well pleased was thence to amoue him farre. Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote xxxviii Forthwith directed to that further strand; The which on the dull waues did lightly flote And soone arriued on the shallow sand, Where gladsome Guyon salied[636] forth to land, And to that Damzell thankes gaue for reward. Vpon that shore he spied Atin stand, There by[637] his maister left, when late he far’d In Phædrias flit[638] barke ouer that perlous shard. Well could he him remember, sith of late xxxix He with Pyrochles sharp debatement made; Streight gan he him reuile, and bitter rate, As shepheards curre, that in darke euenings shade Hath tracted forth some saluage beastes[639] trade; Vile Miscreant (said he) whither doest thou flie The shame and death, which will thee soone inuade? What coward hand shall doe thee next to die, That art thus foully fled from famous enemie?

With that he stiffely shooke his steelehead dart: xl But sober Guyon, hearing him so raile, Though somewhat moued in his mightie hart, Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile, And passed fairely forth. He turning taile, Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd, Awaiting passage, which him late did faile; The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd The hastie heat of his auowd reuenge delayd. Whylest[640] there the varlet stood, he saw from farre xli An armed knight, that towards him fast ran, He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre His forlorne steed from him the victour wan; He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan, And all his armour sprinckled was with bloud, And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can Discerne the hew thereof. He neuer stood, But bent his hastie course towards the idle flood. The varlet saw, when to the flood he came, xlii How without stop or stay he fiercely lept, And deepe him selfe beducked[641] in the same, That in the lake his loftie crest was steept, Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept, But with his raging armes he rudely flasht[642] The waues about, and all his armour swept, That all the bloud and filth away was washt, Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht. Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote bee; xliii For much he wondred at that vncouth sight; Whom should he, but his owne deare Lord, there see, His owne deare Lord Pyrochles, in sad plight, Readie to drowne himselfe for fell despight. Harrow now out, and well away, he cryde, What dismall day hath lent this cursed light,[643] To see my Lord so deadly damnifyde?[644] Pyrochles, O Pyrochles, what is thee betyde?

I burne, I burne, I burne, then loud he cryde, xliv O how I burne with implacable fire, Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde, Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of mire, Nothing but death can doe me to respire. Ah be it (said he) from Pyrochles farre After pursewing death once to require, Or think, that ought those puissant hands may marre: Death is for wretches borne vnder vnhappie starre. Perdie, then is it[645] fit for me (said he) xlv That am, I weene, most wretched man aliue, Burning[646] in flames, yet no flames can I see, And dying daily, daily yet reuiue: O Atin, helpe to me last death to giue. The varlet at his plaint was grieued so sore, That his deepe wounded hart in two did riue, And his owne health remembring now no more, Did follow that ensample, which he blam’d afore. Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd, xlvi (So Loue the dread of daunger doth despise) And of him catching hold him strongly stayd From drowning. But more happie he, then wise Of that seas nature did him not auise. The waues thereof so slow and sluggish were, Engrost with mud, which did them foule agrise, That euery weightie thing they did vpbeare, Ne ought mote euer sinke downe to the bottome there. Whiles thus they strugled in that idle waue, xlvii And stroue in vaine, the one himselfe to drowne, The other both from drowning for to saue, Lo, to that shore one in an auncient gowne, Whose hoarie locks great grauitie did crowne, Holding in hand a goodly arming sword, By fortune came, led with the troublous sowne: Where drenched deepe he found in that dull ford The carefull seruant, striuing with his raging Lord.

Him Atin spying, knew right well of yore, xlviii And loudly cald, Helpe helpe, O Archimage; To saue my Lord, in wretched plight forlore; Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell sage: Weake hands, but counsell is most strong in age. Him when the old man saw,[647] he wondred sore, To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage: Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more Then pittie, he in hast approched to the shore. And cald, Pyrochles, what is this, I see? xlix What hellish furie hath at earst thee hent? Furious euer I thee knew to bee, Yet neuer in this straunge astonishment. These flames, these flames (he cryde) do me torment. What flames (quoth he) when I thee present see, In daunger rather to be drent, then brent? Harrow, the flames, which me consume (said hee) Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowels bee. That cursed man, that cruell feend of hell, l Furor, oh Furor hath me thus bedight: His deadly wounds within my liuers[648] swell, And his whot fire burnes in mine entrails bright, Kindled through his infernall brond of spight, Sith late with him I batteil vaine would boste; That now I weene Ioues dreaded thunder light Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste. Which when as Archimago heard, his griefe li He knew right well, and him attonce disarmd: Then searcht his secret wounds, and made a priefe Of euery place, that was with brusing harmd, Or with the hidden fire too[649] inly warmd. Which done, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde, And euermore[650] with mighty spels them charmd, That in short space he has them qualifyde, And him restor’d to health, that would haue algates dyde.

Guyon findes Mammon[651] in a delue, Sunning his threasure hore: Is by him tempted, and led downe, To see his secret store.

As Pilot well expert in perilous waue, i That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent, When foggy mistes, or cloudy tempests haue The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent, And couer’d heauen with hideous dreriment, Vpon his card and compas firmes his eye, The maisters of his long experiment, And to them does the steddy helme apply, Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:[652] So Guyon hauing lost his trusty guide, ii Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes Yet on his way, of none accompanide; And euermore himselfe with comfort feedes, Of his owne vertues, and prayse-worthy deedes. So long he yode, yet no aduenture found, Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes: For still he traueild through wide wastfull ground, That nought but desert wildernesse shew’d all around. At last he came vnto a gloomy glade, iii Couer’d with boughes and shrubs from heauens light, Whereas he sitting found in secret shade An vncouth, saluage, and vnciuile wight, Of griesly hew, and fowle ill fauour’d sight; His face with smoke was tand, and eyes were bleard, His head and beard with sout were ill bedight, His cole-blacke hands did seeme to haue beene seard In smithes fire-spitting[653] forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.

His yron coate all ouergrowne with rust, iv Was vnderneath enueloped with gold, Whose glistring glosse darkned with filthy dust, Well yet[654] appeared, to haue beene of old A worke of rich entayle, and curious mould, Wouen with antickes and wild Imagery: And in his lap a masse of coyne he told, And turned vpsidowne[655], to feede his eye And[656] couetous desire with his huge threasury. And round about him lay on euery side v Great heapes of gold, that neuer could be spent: Of which some were rude owre, not purifide Of Mulcibers[657] deuouring element; Some others were new driuen, and distent Into great Ingoes, and to wedges square; Some in round plates withouten moniment; But most were stampt, and in their metall bare The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare. Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright vi And hast he rose, for to remoue aside Those pretious hils from straungers enuious sight, And downe them poured through an hole full wide, Into the hollow earth, them there to hide. But Guyon lightly to him leaping, stayd His hand, that trembled, as one terrifyde; And though him selfe were at the sight dismayd, Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd. What art thou man, (if man at all thou art) vii That here in desert hast thine habitaunce, And these rich heapes[658] of wealth doest hide apart From the worldes eye, and from her right vsaunce? Thereat with staring eyes fixed askaunce, In great disdaine, he answerd; Hardy Elfe, That darest vew my direfull countenaunce, I read thee rash, and heedlesse of thy selfe, To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.

God of the world and worldlings I me call, viii Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye, That of my plenty poure out vnto all, And vnto none my graces do enuye: Riches, renowme, and principality, Honour, estate, and all this worldes good, For which men swinck and sweat incessantly, Fro me do flow into an ample flood, And in the hollow earth haue their eternall brood. Wherefore if me thou deigne to serue and sew, ix At thy commaund lo all these mountaines bee; Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew All these may not suffise, there shall to thee Ten times so much be numbred francke and free. Mammon (said he) thy godheades vaunt is vaine, And idle offers of thy golden fee; To them, that couet such eye-glutting gaine, Proffer thy giftes, and fitter seruaunts entertaine. Me ill besits[659], that in der-doing armes, x And honours suit my vowed dayes do spend, Vnto thy bounteous baytes, and pleasing charmes, With which weake men thou witchest, to attend: Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend, And low abase the high heroicke spright, That ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend; Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight: Those be the riches fit for an aduent’rous knight. Vaine glorious Elfe (said he) doest not thou weet, xi That money can thy wantes at will supply? Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet It can puruay in twinckling of an eye; And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply. Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne Sometimes to him, that low in dust doth ly? And him that raignd, into his rowme thrust downe, And whom I lust, do heape with glory and renowne?

All otherwise (said he) I riches read, xii And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse; First got with guile, and then preseru’d with dread, And after spent with pride and lauishnesse, Leauing behind them griefe and heauinesse. Infinite mischiefes of them do arize, Strife,[660] and debate, bloudshed, and bitternesse, Outrageous wrong, and hellish couetize, That noble heart as[661] great dishonour doth despize. Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine; xiii But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound, And loyall truth to treason doest incline; Witnesse the guiltlesse bloud pourd oft on ground, The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround, The sacred Diademe in peeces rent, And purple robe gored with many a wound; Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent: So mak’st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull gouernement. Long were to tell the troublous stormes, that tosse xiv The priuate state, and make the life vnsweet: Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse, And in frayle wood on Adrian gulfe doth fleet, Doth not, I weene, so many euils meet. Then Mammon wexing wroth, And why then, said, Are mortall men so fond and vndiscreet, So euill thing to seeke vnto their ayd, And hauing not complaine, and hauing it vpbraid? Indeede (quoth he) through fowle intemperaunce, xv Frayle men are oft captiu’d to couetise: But would they thinke, with how small allowaunce Vntroubled Nature doth her selfe suffise, Such superfluities they would despise, Which with sad cares empeach our natiue ioyes: At the well head the purest streames arise: But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes, And with vncomely weedes the gentle waue accloyes.

The antique world, in his first flowring youth, xvi Found no defect in his Creatours grace, But with glad thankes, and vnreproued truth, The gifts of soueraigne bountie did embrace: Like Angels life was then mens happy cace; But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed, Abusd her plenty, and fat swolne encreace To all licentious lust, and gan exceed The measure of her meane, and naturall first need. Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe xvii Of his great Grandmother with steele to wound, And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe, With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he found Fountaines of gold and siluer to abound, Of which the matter of his huge desire And pompous pride eftsoones he did compound; Then auarice gan through his veines inspire His greedy flames, and kindled life-deuouring fire. Sonne (said he then) let be thy bitter scorne, xviii And leaue the rudenesse of that[662] antique age To them, that liu’d therein in state forlorne; Thou that doest liue in later times, must wage Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage. If then thee list my offred grace to vse, Take what thou please of all this surplusage; If thee list not, leaue haue thou to refuse: But thing refused, do not afterward accuse. Me list not (said the Elfin knight) receaue xix Thing offred, till I know it well be got, Ne wote I, but thou didst these goods bereaue From rightfull owner by vnrighteous lot, Or that bloud guiltinesse[663] or guile them blot. Perdy (quoth he) yet neuer eye did vew, Ne toung did tell, ne hand these handled not, But safe I haue them kept in secret mew, From heauens sight, and powre of all which them pursew.

What secret place (quoth he) can safely hold xx So huge a masse, and hide from heauens eye? Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold Thou canst preserue from wrong and robbery? Come thou (quoth he) and see. So by and by Through that thicke couert he him led, and found A darkesome way, which no man could descry, That deepe descended through the hollow ground, And was with dread and horrour compassed around. At length they came into a larger space, xxi That stretcht it selfe into an ample plaine, Through which a beaten broad high way did trace, That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly raine: By that wayes side, there sate infernall[664] Payne, And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife: The one in hand an yron whip did straine, The other brandished a bloudy knife, And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threaten life. On thother side in one consort there sate, xxii Cruell Reuenge, and rancorous Despight, Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate, But gnawing Gealosie out of their sight Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight, And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly, And found no place, where safe he shroud him might, Lamenting Sorrow did in darknesse lye, And Shame his vgly face did hide from liuing eye. And ouer them sad Horrour[665] with grim hew, xxiii Did alwayes sore, beating his yron wings; And after him Owles and Night-rauens flew, The hatefull messengers of heauy things, Of death and dolour telling sad tidings; Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clift, A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings, That hart of flint a sunder could haue rift: Which hauing ended, after him she flyeth swift.

All these before the gates of Pluto lay, xxiv By whom they passing, spake vnto them nought. But th’Elfin knight with wonder all the way Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought. At last him to a litle dore he brought, That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide, Was next adioyning, ne them parted ought[666]: Betwixt them both was but a litle stride, That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth diuide. Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care, xxv Day and night keeping wary watch and ward, For feare least Force or Fraud should vnaware Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard: Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward Approch, albe his drowsie den were next; For next to death is Sleepe to be compard: Therefore his house is vnto his annext; Here Sleep, there Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext[667]. So soone as Mammon there arriu’d, the dore xxvi To him did open, and affoorded way; Him followed eke Sir Guyon euermore, Ne darkenesse him, ne daunger might dismay. Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way Did shut, and from behind it forth there lept An vgly feend, more fowle then dismall day, The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept, And euer as he went, dew watch vpon him kept. Well hoped he, ere long that hardy guest, xxvii If euer couetous hand, or lustfull eye, Or lips he layd on thing, that likt him best, Or euer sleepe his eye-strings did vntye, Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye He ouer him did hold his cruell clawes, Threatning with greedy gripe to do him dye And rend in peeces with his rauenous pawes, If euer he transgrest the fatall Stygian lawes.

That houses forme within was rude and strong, xxviii Like an huge caue, hewne out of rocky clift, From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong, Embost with massy gold of glorious gift, And with rich metall loaded euery rift, That heauy ruine they did seeme to threat; And ouer them Arachne high did lift Her cunning web, and spred her subtile net, Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more blacke then let. Both roofe, and floore, and wals were all of gold, xxix But ouergrowne with dust and old decay, And hid in darkenesse, that none could behold The hew thereof: for vew of chearefull day Did neuer in that house it selfe display, But a faint shadow of vncertain light; Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away: Or as the Moone cloathed with clowdy night, Does shew to him, that walkes in feare and sad affright. In all that rowme was nothing to be seene, xxx But huge great yron chests and coffers strong, All bard with double bends, that none could weene Them to efforce by violence or wrong; On euery side they placed were along. But all the ground with sculs was scattered, And dead mens bones, which round about were flong, Whose liues, it seemed, whilome there were shed, And their vile carcases now left vnburied. They forward passe, ne Guyon yet spoke[668] word, xxxi Till that they came vnto an yron dore, Which to them opened of his[669] owne accord, And shewd of richesse such exceeding store, As eye of man did neuer see before; Ne euer could within one place be found, Though all the wealth, which is, or was of yore, Could gathered be through all the world around, And that aboue were added to that vnder ground.

The charge thereof vnto a couetous Spright xxxii Commaunded was, who thereby did attend, And warily awaited day and night, From other couetous feends it to defend, Who it to rob and ransacke did intend. Then Mammon[670] turning to that warriour, said; Loe here the worldes blis, loe here the end, To which all men do ayme, rich to be made: Such grace now to be happy, is before thee laid. Certes (said he) I n’ill thine offred grace, xxxiii Ne to be made so happy do intend: Another blis before mine eyes I place, Another happinesse, another end. To them, that list, these base regardes I lend: But I in armes, and in atchieuements braue, Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend, And to be Lord of those, that riches haue, Then them to haue my selfe, and be their seruile sclaue[671]. Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate, xxxiv And grieu’d, so long to lacke his greedy pray; For well he weened, that so glorious bayte Would tempt his guest, to take thereof assay: Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away, More light then Culuer in the Faulcons fist. Eternall God thee saue from such decay. But whenas Mammon saw his purpose mist, Him to entrap vnwares another way he wist. Thence forward he him led, and shortly brought xxxv Vnto another rowme, whose dore forthright, To him did open, as it had beene taught: Therein an hundred raunges weren pight, And hundred fornaces all burning bright; By euery fornace many feends did bide, Deformed creatures, horrible in sight, And euery feend his busie paines applide, To melt the golden metall, ready to be tride.

One with great bellowes gathered filling aire, xxxvi And with forst wind the fewell did inflame; Another did the dying bronds repaire With yron[672] toungs, and sprinckled oft the same With liquid waues, fiers Vulcans rage to tame, Who maistring them, renewd his former heat; Some scumd the drosse, that from the metall came; Some stird the molten owre with ladles great; And euery one did swincke, and euery one did sweat. But when as[673] earthly wight they present saw, xxxvii Glistring in armes and battailous aray, From their whot worke they did themselues withdraw To wonder at the sight: for till that day, They neuer creature saw, that came[674] that way. Their staring eyes sparckling with feruent fire, And vgly shapes did nigh the man dismay, That were it not for shame, he would retire, Till that him thus bespake their soueraigne Lord and sire. Behold, thou Faeries sonne, with mortall eye, xxxviii That liuing eye before did neuer see: The thing, that thou didst craue so earnestly, To weet, whence all the wealth late shewd by mee, Proceeded, lo now is reueald to thee. Here is the fountaine of the worldes good: Now therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee, Auise thee well, and chaunge thy wilfull mood, Least thou perhaps hereafter wish, and be withstood. Suffise it then, thou Money God (quoth hee) xxxix That all thine idle offers I refuse. All that I need I haue; what needeth mee To couet more, then I haue cause to vse? With such vaine shewes thy worldlings vile abuse: But giue me leaue to follow mine emprise. Mammon was much displeasd, yet no’te he chuse, But beare the rigour of his bold mesprise[675], And thence him forward led, him further to entise.

He brought him through a darksome narrow strait, xl To a broad gate, all built of beaten gold: The gate was open, but therein did wait A sturdy villein, striding stiffe and bold, As if[676] that[677] highest God defie he would;[678] In his right hand an yron club he held, But[679] he himselfe was all of golden[680] mould, Yet had both life and sence, and well could weld That cursed weapon, when his cruell foes he queld. Disdayne he called was, and did disdaine xli To be so cald, and who so did him call: Sterne was his[681] looke, and full of stomacke vaine, His portaunce terrible, and stature tall, Far passing th’hight of men terrestriall[682]; Like an huge Gyant of the Titans race, That made him scorne all creatures great and small, And with his pride all others powre deface: More fit amongst blacke fiendes, then men to haue his place. Soone as those glitterand armes he did espye, xlii That with their brightnesse made that darknesse light, His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye, And threaten batteill to the Faery knight; Who likewise gan himselfe to batteill dight, Till Mammon did his hasty hand withhold, And counseld him abstaine from perilous fight: For nothing might abash the villein bold, Ne mortall steele emperce his miscreated mould. So hauing him with reason pacifide, xliii And the fiers Carle commaunding to forbeare, He brought him in. The rowme was large and wide, As it some Gyeld or solemne Temple weare: Many great golden pillours did vpbeare The massy roofe, and riches huge sustayne, And euery pillour decked was full deare With crownes and Diademes, and titles vaine, Which mortall Princes wore, whiles they on earth did rayne.

A route of people there assembled were, xliv Of euery sort and nation vnder skye, Which with great vprore preaced to draw nere To th’vpper part, where was aduaunced hye A stately siege of soueraigne maiestye; And thereon sat a woman gorgeous gay, And richly clad in robes of royaltye, That neuer earthly Prince in such aray His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pride display. Her face right wondrous faire did seeme to bee, xlv That her broad beauties beam great brightnes threw Through the dim shade, that all men might it see: Yet was not that same her owne natiue hew, But wrought by art and counterfetted shew, Thereby more louers vnto her to call; Nath’lesse most heauenly faire in deed and vew She by creation was, till she did fall; Thenceforth she sought for helps, to cloke her crime withall. There, as in glistring glory she did sit, xlvi She held a great gold chaine ylincked well, Whose vpper end to highest heauen was knit, And lower part did reach to lowest Hell; And all that preace did round about her swell, To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby To clime aloft, and others to excell: That was Ambition, rash desire to sty, And euery lincke thereof a step of dignity. Some thought to raise themselues to high degree, xlvii By riches and vnrighteous reward, Some by close shouldring, some by flatteree; Others through friends, others for base regard; And all by wrong wayes for themselues prepard. Those that were vp themselues, kept others low, Those that were low themselues, held others hard, Ne suffred them to rise or greater grow, But euery one did striue his fellow downe to throw.

Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan inquire, xlviii What meant that preace about that Ladies throne, And what she was that did so high aspire. Him Mammon answered; That goodly one, Whom all that folke with such contention, Do flocke about, my deare, my[683] daughter is; Honour and dignitie from her alone[684] Deriued are, and all this worldes blis For which ye men do striue: few get, but many mis. And faire Philotime she rightly hight, xlix The fairest wight that wonneth vnder skye, But that this darksome neather world her light Doth dim with horrour and deformitie, Worthy of heauen and hye felicitie, From whence the gods haue her for enuy thrust: But sith thou hast found fauour in mine eye, Thy spouse I will her make, if that thou lust, That she may thee aduance for workes and merites iust. Gramercy Mammon[685] (said the gentle knight) l For so great grace and offred high estate; But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly wight, Vnworthy match for such immortall mate My selfe well wote, and mine vnequall fate; And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight, And loue auowd to other Lady late, That to remoue the same I haue no might: To chaunge loue causelesse is reproch to warlike knight. Mammon emmoued was with inward wrath; li Yet forcing it to faine, him forth thence led Through griesly shadowes by a beaten path, Into a gardin goodly garnished With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be red: Not such, as earth out of her fruitfull woomb Throwes forth to men, sweet and well sauoured, But direfull deadly blacke both leafe and bloom, Fit to adorne the dead, and decke the drery toombe.

There mournfull Cypresse grew in greatest store, lii And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben sad, Dead sleeping Poppy, and blacke Hellebore, Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad, Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad, With which[686] th’vniust Atheniens made to dy Wise Socrates, who thereof quaffing glad Pourd out his life, and last Philosophy To the faire Critias his dearest Belamy. The Gardin[687] of Proserpina this hight; liii And in the midst thereof a siluer seat, With a thicke Arber goodly ouer dight, In which she often vsd from open heat Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to entreat. Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree, With braunches broad dispred and body great, Clothed with leaues, that none the wood mote see And loaden all with fruit as thicke as it might bee. Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright, liv That goodly was their glory to behold, On earth like neuer grew, ne liuing wight Like euer saw, but they from hence were sold; For those, which Hercules with conquest bold Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began, And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold: And those with which th’[688]Eubæan young man wan Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran. Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit, lv With which Acontius got his louer trew, Whom he had long time sought with fruitlesse suit: Here eke that famous golden Apple grew, The which emongst the gods false Ate threw; For which th’Idæan Ladies disagreed, Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew, And had of her, faire Helen for his meed, That many noble Greekes and Troians made to bleed.

The warlike Elfe[689] much wondred at this tree, lvi So faire and great, that shadowed all the ground, And his broad braunches, laden with rich fee, Did stretch themselues without the vtmost bound Of this great gardin, compast with a mound, Which ouer-hanging, they themselues did steepe, In a blacke flood which flow’d about it round; That is the riuer of Cocytus deepe, In which full many soules do endlesse waile and weepe. Which to behold, he clomb vp to the banke, lvii And looking downe, saw many damned wights, In those sad waues, which direfull deadly stanke, Plonged continually of cruell Sprights, That with their pitteous cryes, and yelling shrights, They made the further shore resounden wide: Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sights, One cursed creature[690] he by chaunce espide, That drenched lay full deepe, vnder the Garden side. Deepe was he drenched to the vpmost chin, lviii Yet gaped still, as coueting to drinke Of the cold liquor, which he waded in, And stretching forth his hand, did often thinke To reach the fruit, which grew vpon the brincke: But both the fruit from hand, and floud from mouth Did flie abacke, and made him vainely swinke: The whiles he steru’d with hunger and with drouth He daily dyde, yet neuer throughly dyen couth. The knight him seeing labour so in vaine, lix Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby: Who groning deepe, thus answerd him againe; Most cursed of all creatures vnder skye, Lo Tantalus, I here tormented lye: Of whom high Ioue wont whylome feasted bee, Lo here I now for want of food doe dye: But if that thou be such, as I thee see, Of grace I pray thee, giue to eat and drinke to mee.

Nay, nay, thou greedie Tantalus (quoth he) lx Abide the fortune of thy present fate, And vnto all that liue in high degree, Ensample be of mind intemperate[691], To teach them how to vse their present state. Then gan the cursed wretch aloud to cry, Accusing highest Ioue and gods ingrate, And eke blaspheming heauen bitterly, As authour of vniustice, there to let him dye. He lookt a little further, and espyde lxi Another wretch, whose carkasse deepe was drent Within the riuer, which the same did hyde: But both his hands most filthy feculent, Aboue the water were on high extent, And faynd to wash themselues incessantly; Yet nothing cleaner were for such intent, But rather fowler seemed to the eye; So lost his labour vaine and idle industry. The knight him calling, asked who he was, lxii Who lifting vp his head, him answerd thus: I Pilate am the falsest Iudge, alas, And most vniust, that by vnrighteous And wicked doome, to Iewes despiteous Deliuered vp the Lord of life to die, And did acquite a murdrer felonous; The whiles my hands I washt in puritie, The whiles my soule was soyld with foule iniquitie. Infinite moe, tormented in like paine lxiii He there beheld, too long here to be told: Ne Mammon would there let him long remaine, For terrour of the tortures manifold, In which the damned soules he did behold, But roughly him bespake. Thou fearefull foole, Why takest not of that same fruit of gold, Ne sittest downe on that same siluer stoole, To rest thy wearie person, in the shadow coole.

All which he did, to doe him deadly fall lxiv In frayle intemperance through sinfull bayt; To which if he inclined had at all, That dreadfull feend, which did behind him wayt, Would him haue rent in thousand peeces strayt: But he was warie wise in all his way, And well perceiued his deceiptfull sleight, Ne suffred lust his safetie to betray; So goodly did beguile the Guyler of the pray[692]. And now he has so long remained there, lxv That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan, For want of food, and sleepe, which two vpbeare, Like mightie pillours, this fraile life of man, That none without the same enduren can. For now three dayes of men were full outwrought, Since he this hardie enterprize began: For thy great Mammon fairely he besought, Into the world to guide him backe, as he him brought. The God, though loth, yet was constraind t’obay, lxvi For lenger time, then that, no liuing wight Below the earth, might suffred be to stay: So backe againe, him brought to liuing light. But all so soone as his enfeebled spright Gan sucke this vitall aire into his brest, As ouercome with too exceeding might, The life did flit away out of her nest, And all his senses were with deadly fit opprest.

Sir Guyon laid in swowne is by Acrates sonnes despoyld, Whom Arthur soone hath reskewed And Paynim brethren foyld.

And is there care in heauen? and is there loue i In heauenly spirits to these creatures bace, That may compassion of their euils moue? There is: else much more wretched were the cace Of men, then beasts. But O th’exceeding grace Of highest God, that loues his creatures so, And all his workes with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels, he sends to and fro, To serue to wicked man, to serue his wicked foe. How oft do they, their siluer bowers leaue, ii To come to succour vs, that succour want? How oft do they with golden pineons, cleaue The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuiuant, Against foule feends to aide vs millitant? They for vs fight, they watch and dewly ward, And their bright Squadrons round about vs plant, And all for loue, and nothing for reward: O why should heauenly God to men haue such regard? During the while, that Guyon did abide iii In Mammons[693] house, the Palmer, whom whyleare That wanton Mayd of passage had denide, By further search had passage found elsewhere, And being on his way, approched neare, Where Guyon lay in traunce, when suddenly He heard a voice, that called loud and cleare, Come hither, come hither[694], O come hastily; That all the fields resounded with the ruefull cry.

The Palmer lent his eare vnto the noyce, iv To weet, who called so importunely: Againe he heard a more efforced voyce, That bad him come in haste. He by and by His feeble feet directed to the cry; Which to that shadie delue him brought at last, Where Mammon earst did sunne his threasury: There the good Guyon he found slumbring fast In senselesse dreame; which sight at first him sore aghast. Beside his head there sate a faire young man, v Of wondrous beautie, and of freshest yeares, Whose tender bud to blossome new began, And flourish faire aboue his equall peares; His snowy front curled with golden heares, Like Phœbus face adornd with sunny rayes, Diuinely shone, and two sharpe winged sheares, Decked with diuerse plumes, like painted Iayes, Were fixed at his backe, to cut his ayerie wayes. Like as Cupido on Idæan hill, vi When hauing laid his cruell bow away, And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fill The world with murdrous spoiles and bloudie pray, With his faire mother he him dights to play, And with his goodly sisters, Graces three; The Goddesse pleased with his wanton play, Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to bee, The whiles the other Ladies mind their merry glee. Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he was vii Through fear and wonder, that he nought could say, Till him the child bespoke, Long lackt, alas, Hath bene thy faithfull aide in hard assay, Whiles deadly fit thy pupill doth dismay; Behold this heauie sight, thou reuerend Sire, But dread of death and dolour doe away; For life ere long shall to her home retire, And he that breathlesse seemes, shal corage bold respire.

The charge, which God doth vnto me arret, viii Of his deare safetie, I to thee commend; Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forget The care thereof my selfe vnto the end, But euermore him succour, and defend Against his foe and mine: watch thou I pray; For euill is at hand him to offend. So hauing said, eftsoones he gan display His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away. The Palmer seeing his left empty place, ix And his slow eyes beguiled of their sight, Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a space, Gaz’d after him, as fowle escapt by flight; At last him turning to his charge behight, With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan try; Where finding life not yet dislodged quight, He much reioyst, and courd it tenderly, As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded destiny. At last he spide, where towards him did pace x Two Paynim knights, all armd as bright as skie, And them beside an aged Sire did trace, And farre before a light-foot Page did flie, That breathed strife and troublous enmitie; Those were the two sonnes of Acrates old, Who meeting earst with Archimago slie, Foreby that idle strond, of him were told, That he, which earst them combatted, was Guyon bold. Which to auenge on him they dearely vowd, xi Where euer that on ground they mote him fynd; False Archimage prouokt their courage prowd, And stryfull[695] Atin in their stubborne mynd Coles of contention and whot vengeance tynd. Now bene they come, whereas the Palmer sate, Keeping that slombred corse to him assynd; Well knew they both his person, sith of late With him in bloudie armes they rashly did debate.

Whom when Pyrochles saw, inflam’d with rage, xii That sire he foule bespake, Thou dotard vile, That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely age, Abandone soone, I read, the caitiue spoile Of that same outcast carkasse, that erewhile Made it selfe famous through false trechery, And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile; Loe where he now inglorious doth lye, To proue he liued ill, that did thus foully dye. To whom the Palmer fearelesse answered; xiii Certes, Sir knight, ye bene too much to blame, Thus for to blot the honour of the dead, And with foule cowardize his carkasse shame, Whose liuing hands immortalizd his name. Vile is the vengeance on the ashes cold, And enuie base, to barke at sleeping fame: Was neuer wight, that treason of him told; Your selfe his prowesse prou’d and found him fiers and bold. Then said Cymochles; Palmer, thou doest dote, xiv Ne canst of prowesse, ne of knighthood deeme, Saue as thou seest or hearst. But well I wote, That of his puissance tryall made extreeme; Yet gold all is not, that doth golden seeme, Ne all good knights, that shake well speare and shield: The worth of all men by their end esteeme, And then due praise, or due reproch them yield; Bad therefore I him deeme, that thus lies dead on field. Good or bad (gan his brother fierce reply) xv What doe I recke, sith that he dyde entire? Or what doth his bad death now satisfy The greedy hunger of reuenging ire, Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne desire? Yet since no way is left to wreake my spight, I will him reaue of armes, the victors hire, And of that shield, more worthy of good knight; For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour bright?

Faire Sir, said then the Palmer suppliaunt, xvi For knighthoods loue, do not so foule a deed, Ne blame your honour with so shamefull vaunt Of vile reuenge. To spoile the dead of weed Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed; But leaue these relicks of his liuing might, To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke steed. What herce or steed (said he) should he haue dight, But be entombed in the rauen or the kight? With that, rude hand vpon his shield he laid, xvii And th’other brother gan his helme vnlace, Both fiercely bent to haue him disaraid; Till that they spide, where towards them did pace An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace, Whose squire bore after him an heben launce, And couerd shield. Well kend him so farre space Th’enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce, When vnder him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce. And to those brethren said, Rise rise by liue, xviii And vnto battell doe your selues addresse; For yonder comes the prowest knight aliue, Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobilesse, That hath to Paynim knights wrought great distresse, And thousand Sar’zins foully donne to dye. That word so deepe did in their harts impresse, That both eftsoones vpstarted furiously, And gan themselues prepare to battell greedily. But fierce Pyrochles, lacking his owne sword, xix The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine, And Archimage besought, him that afford, Which he had brought for Braggadocchio vaine. So would I (said th’enchaunter) glad and faine Beteeme to you this[696] sword, you to defend, Or ought that else your honour might maintaine, But that this weapons powre I well haue kend, To be contrarie to the worke, which ye intend.

For that same knights owne sword this is of yore, xx Which Merlin made by his almightie art For that his noursling, when he knighthood swore, Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart. The metall first he mixt with Medæwart, That no enchauntment from his dint might saue; Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart, And seuen times dipped in the bitter waue Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it gaue. The vertue is, that neither steele, nor stone xxi The stroke thereof from entrance may defend; Ne euer may be vsed by his fone, Ne forst his rightfull owner to offend, Ne euer will it breake, ne euer bend. Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight. In vaine therefore, Pyrochles, should I lend The same to thee, against his lord to fight, For sure it would deceiue thy labour, and thy might. Foolish old man, said then the Pagan wroth, xxii That weenest words or charmes may force withstond: Soone shalt thou see, and then beleeue for troth, That I can carue with this inchaunted brond His Lords owne flesh. Therewith out of his hond That vertuous steele he rudely snatcht away, And Guyons shield about his wrest[697] he bond; So readie dight, fierce battaile to assay, And match his brother proud in battailous array. By this that straunger knight in presence came, xxiii And goodly salued them; who nought againe Him answered, as courtesie became, But with sterne lookes, and stomachous disdaine, Gaue signes of grudge and discontentment vaine: Then turning to the Palmer, he gan spy Where at his feete, with sorrowfull demaine And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye, In whose dead face he red great magnanimity.

Said he then to the Palmer, Reuerend syre, xxiv What great misfortune hath betidd this knight? Or did his life her fatall date expyre, Or did he fall by treason, or by fight? How euer, sure I rew his pitteous plight. Not one, nor other, (said the Palmer graue) Hath him befalne, but cloudes of deadly night A while his heauie eylids couer’d haue, And all his senses drowned in deepe senselesse waue. Which, those his cruell[698] foes, that stand hereby, xxv Making aduantage, to reuenge their spight, Would him disarme, and treaten shamefully, Vnworthy vsage of redoubted knight. But you, faire Sir, whose honorable sight Doth promise hope of helpe, and timely grace, Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight, And by your powre protect his feeble cace. First praise of knighthood is, foule outrage to deface. Palmer, (said he) no knight so rude, I weene, xxvi As to doen outrage to a sleeping ghost: Ne was there euer noble courage seene, That in aduauntage would his puissance bost: Honour is least, where oddes appeareth most. May be, that better reason will asswage[699] The rash reuengers heat. Words well dispost Haue secret powre, t’appease inflamed rage: If not, leaue vnto me thy knights last patronage[700]. Tho turning to those brethren, thus bespoke, xxvii Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might It seemes, iust wrongs to vengeance doe[701] prouoke, To wreake your wrath on this dead seeming knight, Mote ought allay the storme of your despight, And settle patience in so furious heat? Not to debate the chalenge of your right, But for this carkasse pardon I entreat, Whom fortune hath alreadie laid in lowest seat.

To whom Cymochles said; For what art thou, xxviii That mak’st thy selfe his dayes-man, to prolong The vengeance prest? Or who shall let me now, On this vile bodie from to wreake my wrong, And make his carkasse as the outcast dong? Why should not that dead carrion satisfie The guilt, which if he liued had thus long, His life for due reuenge should deare abie? The trespasse still doth liue, albe the person die. Indeed (then said the Prince) the euill donne xxix Dyes not, when breath the bodie first doth leaue, But from the grandsyre to the Nephewes sonne, And all his seed the curse doth often cleaue, Till vengeance vtterly the guilt bereaue: So streightly God doth iudge. But gentle knight, That doth against the dead his hand vpreare[702], His honour staines with rancour and despight, And great disparagment makes to his former might. Pyrochles gan reply the second time, xxx And to him said, Now felon sure I read, How that thou art partaker of his crime: Therefore by Termagaunt thou shalt be dead. With that his hand, more sad then lomp of lead, Vplifting high, he weened with Morddure, His owne good sword Morddure, to cleaue his head. The faithfull steele such treason no’uld endure, But swaruing from the marke, his Lords life did assure. Yet was the force so furious and so fell, xxxi That horse and man it made to reele aside; Nath’lesse the Prince would not forsake his sell: For well of yore he learned had to ride, But full of anger fiercely to him cride; False traitour miscreant, thou broken hast The law of armes, to strike foe vndefide. But thou thy treasons fruit, I hope, shalt taste Right sowre, and feele the law, the which thou hast defast.

With that his balefull speare[703] he fiercely bent xxxii Against the Pagans[704] brest, and therewith thought His cursed life out of her lodge haue rent: But ere the point arriued, where it ought, That seuen-fold shield, which he from Guyon brought He cast betwene to ward the bitter stound: Through all those foldes the steelehead passage wrought And through his shoulder pierst; wherwith to ground He groueling fell, all gored in his gushing wound. Which when his brother saw, fraught with great griefe xxxiii And wrath, he to him leaped furiously, And fowly said, By Mahoune, cursed thiefe, That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt aby. Then hurling vp his harmefull blade on hye, Smote him so hugely on his haughtie crest, That from his saddle forced him to fly: Else mote it needes downe to his manly brest Haue cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dispossest. Now was the Prince in daungerous distresse, xxxiv Wanting his sword, when he on foot should fight: His single speare could doe him small redresse, Against two foes of so exceeding might, The least of which was match for any knight. And now the other, whom he earst did daunt, Had reard himselfe againe to cruell fight, Three times more furious, and more puissaunt, Vnmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignoraunt. So both attonce him charge on either side, xxxv With hideous strokes, and importable powre, That forced him his ground to trauerse wide, And wisely watch to ward that deadly stowre: For in[705] his shield, as thicke as stormie showre, Their strokes did raine, yet did he neuer quaile, Ne backward shrinke, but as a stedfast towre, Whom foe with double[706] battry doth assaile, Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids them nought auaile.

So stoutly he withstood their strong assay, xxxvi Till that at last, when he aduantage spyde, His poinant speare he thrust with puissant sway At proud Cymochles, whiles his shield was wyde, That through his thigh the mortall steele did gryde: He swaruing with the force, within his flesh Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde: Out of the wound the red bloud flowed fresh, That vnderneath his feet soone made a purple plesh. Horribly then he gan to rage, and rayle, xxxvii Cursing his Gods, and himselfe damning deepe: Als when his brother saw the red bloud rayle[707] Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe, For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe, And said, Caytiue, cursse on thy cruell hond, That twise hath sped; yet shall it not thee keepe From the third brunt of this my fatall brond: Loe where the dreadfull Death behind thy backe doth stond. With that he strooke, and th’other strooke withall, xxxviii That nothing seem’d mote beare so monstrous might: The one vpon his couered shield did fall, And glauncing downe would not his owner byte: But th’other did vpon his troncheon smyte, Which hewing quite a sunder, further way It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte, The which diuiding with importune sway, It seizd in his right side, and there the dint did stay. Wyde was the wound, and a large lukewarme flood, xxxix Red as the Rose, thence gushed grieuously; That when the Paynim spyde the streaming blood, Gaue him great hart, and hope of victory. On th’other side, in huge perplexity, The Prince now stood, hauing his weapon broke; Nought could he hurt, but still at ward did ly: Yet with his troncheon he so rudely stroke Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his foot reuoke.

Whom when the Palmer saw in such distresse, xl Sir Guyons sword he lightly to him raught, And said; Faire[708] Son, great God thy right hand blesse, To vse that sword so wisely as[709] it ought. Glad was the knight, and with fresh courage fraught, When as againe he armed felt his hond; Then like a Lion, which hath long time saught His robbed whelpes, and at the last them fond Emongst the shepheard swaynes, then wexeth wood and yond. So fierce he laid about him, and dealt blowes xli On either side, that neither mayle could hold, Ne shield defend the thunder of his throwes: Now to Pyrochles many strokes he told; Eft to Cymochles twise so many fold: Then backe againe turning his busie hond, Them both attonce compeld with courage bold, To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling brond; And though they both stood stiffe, yet could not both withstond. As saluage Bull, whom two fierce mastiues bayt, xlii When rancour doth with rage him once engore, Forgets with warie ward them to awayt, But with his dreadfull hornes them driues afore, Or flings aloft, or treads downe in the flore, Breathing out wrath, and bellowing disdaine, That all the forrest quakes to heare him rore: So rag’d Prince Arthur twixt his foemen twaine, That neither could his mightie puissance sustaine. But euer at Pyrochles when he smit, xliii Who Guyons shield cast euer him before, Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was writ, His hand relented, and the stroke forbore, And his deare hart the picture gan adore, Which oft the Paynim sau’d from deadly stowre. But him henceforth the same can saue no more; For now arriued is his fatall howre, That no’te auoyded be by earthly skill or powre.

For when Cymochles saw the fowle reproch, xliv Which them appeached, prickt with guilty[710] shame, And inward griefe, he fiercely gan approch, Resolu’d to put away that loathly blame, Or dye with honour and desert of fame; And on the hauberk stroke the Prince so sore, That quite disparted all the linked frame, And pierced to the skin, but bit no more[711], Yet made him twise to reele, that neuer moou’d afore. Whereat renfierst with wrath and sharpe regret, xlv He stroke so hugely with his borrowd blade, That it empierst[712] the Pagans burganet, And cleauing the hard steele, did deepe inuade Into his head, and cruell passage made Quite through his braine. He tombling downe on ground, Breathd out his ghost, which to th’infernall shade Fast flying, there eternall torment found, For all the sinnes, wherewith his lewd life did abound. Which when his german saw, the stony feare[713] xlvi Ran to his hart, and all his sence dismayd, Ne thenceforth life ne courage did appeare, But as a man, whom hellish feends haue frayd, Long trembling still he stood: at last thus sayd; Traytour what hast thou doen? how euer may Thy cursed hand so cruelly haue swayd Against that knight: Harrow[714] and well away,[715] After so wicked deed why liu’st thou lenger day? With that all desperate as loathing light, xlvii And with reuenge desiring soone to dye, Assembling all his force and vtmost might, With his owne sword[716] he fierce at him did flye, And strooke, and foynd, and lasht outrageously, Withouten reason or regard. Well knew The Prince, with patience and sufferaunce sly So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew: Tho when this breathlesse woxe, that batteil gan renew.

As when a windy tempest bloweth hye, xlviii That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre, The cloudes, as things affrayd, before him flye; But all so soone as his outrageous powre Is layd, they fiercely then begin to shoure, And as in scorne of his spent stormy spight, Now all attonce their malice forth do poure; So did Prince Arthur[717] beare himselfe in fight, And suffred rash Pyrochles wast his idle might. At last when as the Sarazin perceiu’d, xlix How that straunge sword refusd, to serue his need, But when he stroke most strong, the dint deceiu’d, He flong it from him, and deuoyd of dreed, Vpon him lightly leaping without heed, Twixt his two mighty armes engrasped fast, Thinking to ouerthrow and downe him tred: But him in strength and skill the Prince surpast, And through his nimble sleight did vnder him down cast. Nought booted it the Paynim then to striue; l For as a Bittur in the Eagles claw, That may not hope by flight to scape aliue, Still waites for death with dread and trembling aw; So he now subiect to the victours law, Did not once moue, nor vpward cast his eye, For vile disdaine and rancour, which did gnaw His hart in twaine with sad melancholy, As one that loathed life, and yet despisd to dye. But full of Princely bounty and great mind, li The Conquerour nought cared him to slay, But casting wrongs and all reuenge behind, More glory thought to giue life, then decay, And said, Paynim, this is thy dismall day; Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce, And my trew liegeman yield thy selfe for ay, Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce, And all thy wrongs will wipe out of my souenaunce.

Foole (said the Pagan) I thy gift defye, lii But vse thy fortune, as it doth befall, And say, that I not ouercome do dye, But in despight of life, for death do call. Wroth was the Prince, and sory yet withall, That he so wilfully refused grace; Yet sith his fate so cruelly did fall, His shining Helmet he gan soone vnlace, And left his headlesse body bleeding all the place. By this Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt, liii Life hauing maistered her sencelesse foe; And looking vp, when as his shield he lakt, And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous woe: But when the Palmer, whom he long ygoe Had[718] lost, he by him spide, right glad he grew, And said, Deare sir, whom wandring to and fro I long haue lackt, I ioy thy face to vew; Firme is thy faith, whom daunger neuer fro me drew. But read what wicked hand hath robbed mee liv Of my good sword and shield? The Palmer glad, With so fresh hew vprising him to see, Him answered; Faire[719] sonne, be no whit sad For want of weapons, they shall soone be had. So gan he to discourse the whole debate, Which that straunge knight for him sustained had, And those two Sarazins confounded late, Whose carcases on ground were horribly prostrate. Which when he heard, and saw the tokens trew, lv His hart with great affection was embayd, And to the Prince bowing with[720] reuerence dew, As to the Patrone of his life, thus sayd; My Lord, my liege, by whose most gratious ayd I liue this day, and see my foes subdewd, What may suffise, to be for meede repayd Of so great graces, as ye haue me shewd, But to be euer bound