The Faerie Queene (19 page)

Of such, as vertues like mote vnto him allye.

24
So now he
Guyon
guides an vncouth way

Through woods & mountaines, till they came at last

Into a pleasant dale, that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads ouerplast,

The valley did with coole shade ouercast;

Through midst thereof a little riuer rold,

By which there sate a knight with helme vnlast,

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,

After his trauell long, and labours manifold.

25
Loe yonder he, cryde
Archimage
alowd,

That wrought the shamefull fact, which I did shew;

And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,

To flie the vengeance for his outrage dew;

But vaine: for ye shall dearely do him rew,

So God ye speed, and send you good successe;

Which we farre off will here abide to vew.

So they him left, inflam'd with wrathfulnesse,

That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse.

26
Who seeing him from farre so fierce to pricke,

His warlike armes about him gan embrace,

And in the rest his readie speare did sticke;

Tho when as still he saw him towards pace,

He gan rencounter him in equall race.

They bene ymet, both readie to affrap,

When suddenly that warriour gan abace

His threatned speare, as if some new mishap

Had him betidde, or hidden daunger did entrap.

27
And cryde, Mercie Sir knight, and mercie Lord,

For mine offence and heedlesse hardiment,

That had almost committed crime abhord,

And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,

Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,

The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,

Which on your shield is set for ornament:

But his fierce foe his steede could stay vneath,

Who prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.

28
But when he heard him speake, streightway he knew

His error, and himselfe inclyning sayd;

Ah deare Sir
Guyon,
well becommeth you,

But me behoueth rather to vpbrayd,

Whose hastie hand so farre from reason strayd,

That almost it did haynous violence

On that faire image of that heauenly Mayd,

That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:

Your court'sie takes on you anothers due offence.

29
So bene they both attone, and doen vpreare

Their beuers bright, each other for to greete;

Goodly comportance each to other beare,

And entertaine themselues with court'sies meet

Then said the
Redcrosse
knight, Now mote I weet,

Sir
Guyon,
why with so fierce saliaunce,

And fell intent ye did at earst me meet;

For sith I know your goodly gouernaunce,

Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some vncouth chaunce.

30
Certes (said he) well mote I shame to tell

The fond encheason, that me hither led.

A false infamous faitour late befell

Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,

And playnd of grieuous outrage, which he red

A knight had wrought against a Ladie gent;

Which to auenge, he to this place me led,

Where you he made the marke of his intent,

And now is fled; foule shame him follow, where he went

31
So can he turne his earnest vnto game,

Through goodly handling and wise temperance.

By this his aged guide in presence came;

Who soone as on that knight his eye did glance,

Eftsoones of him had perfect cognizance,

Sith him in Faerie court he late auizd;

And said, faire sonne, God giue you happie chance,

And that deare Crosse vpon your shield deuizd,

Wherewith aboue all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd.

32
Ioy may you haue, and euerlasting fame,

Of late most hard atchieu'ment by you donne,

For which enrolled is your glorious name

In heauenly Registers aboue the Sunne,

Where you a Saint with Saints your seat haue wonne:

But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke,

Must now anew begin, like race to runne;

God guide thee,
Guyon,
well to end thy warke,

And to the wished hauen bring thy weary barke.

33
Palmer, (him answered the
Redcrosse
knight)

His be the praise, that this atchieu'ment wrought,

Who made my hand the organ of his might;

More then goodwill to me attribute nought:

For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensewes,

Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,

That home ye may report thrise happie newes;

For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes.

34
So courteous conge both did giue and take,

With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.

Then
Guyon
forward gan his voyage make,

With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still.

Still he him guided ouer dale and hill,

And with his steedie staffe did point his way:

His race with reason, and with words his will.

From foule intemperance he oft did stay,

And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray.

35
In this faire wize they traueild long yfere,

Through many hard assayes, which did betide;

Of which he honour still away did beare,

And spred his glorie through all countries wide.

At last as chaunst them by a forest side

To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,

They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride

With percing shriekes, and many a dolefull lay;

Which to attend, a while their forward steps they stay.

36
But if that carelesse heauens (quoth she) despise

The doome of iust reuenge, and take delight

To see sad pageants of mens miseries,

As bound by them to liue in liues despight,

Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.

Come then, come soone, come sweetest death to mee,

And take away this long lent loathed light:

Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweet the medicines bee,

That long captiued soules from wearie thraldome free

37
But thou, sweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate

Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall,

Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing state,

Long maist thou liue, and better thriue withall,

Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall:

Liue thou, and to thy mother dead attest,

That cleare she dide from blemish criminall;

Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest

Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to rest.

38
With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw,

That through the wood reecchoed againe,

And after gaue a grone so deepe and low,

That seemd her tender heart was rent in twaine,

Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;

As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell steele

Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine,

Whiles the sad pang approching she does feele,

Brayes out her latest breach, and vp her eyes doth seele.

39
Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict

From his tall steed, he rusht into the thicke,

And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraict

Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,

In whose white alabaster brest did sticke

A cruell knife, that made a griesly wound,

From which forth gusht a streme of gorebloud thick,

That all her goodly garments staind around,

And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassie ground.

40
Pittifull spectacle of deadly smart,

Beside a bubbling fountaine low she lay,

Which she increased with her bleeding hart,

And the cleane waues widi purple gore did ray;

Als in her lap a louely babe did play

His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;

For in her streaming blood he did embay

His litle hands, and tender ioynts embrew;

Pitifull spectacle, as euer eye did view.

41
Besides them both, vpon the soiled gras

The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,

Whose armour all with bloud besprinckled was;

His ruddie lips did smile, and rosy red

Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yet being ded,

Seemd to haue beene a goodly personage,

Now in his freshest flowre of lustie hed,

Fit to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,

But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.

42
Whom when the good Sir
Guyon
did behold,

His hart gan wexe as starke, as marble stone,

And his fresh bloud did frieze with fearefiill cold,

That all his senses seemd bereft attone,

At last his mightie ghost gan deepe to grone,

As Lyon grudging in his great disdaine,

Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone;

Till ruth and fraile affection did constraine,

His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward paine.

43
Out of her gored wound the cruell steele

He lighdy snatcht, and did the floudgate stop

With his faire garment: then gan softly feele

Her feeble pulse, to proue if any drop

Of liuing bloud yet in her veynes did hop;

Which when he felt to moue, he hoped faire

To call backe life to her forsaken shop;

So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,

That at the last she gan to breath out liuing aire.

44
Which he perceiuing greatly gan reioice,

And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart

Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweet voice;

Ay me, deare Lady, which the image art

Of ruefull pitie, and impatient smart,

What direfull chance, armd with reuenging fate,

Or cursed hand hath plaid this cruell part,

Thus fowle to hasten your vntimely date;

Speake, O deare Lady speake: help neuer comes too late.

45
Therewith her dim eie-lids she vp gan reare,

On which the drery death did sit, as sad

As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare;

But when as him all in bright armour clad

Before her standing she espied had,

As one out of a deadly dreame affright,

She weakely started, yet she nothing drad:

Streight downe againe her selfe in great despight,

She groueling threw to ground, as hating life and light.

46
The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine

Vplifted light, and softly did vphold:

Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunke againe,

Till he his armes about her sides gan fold,

And to her said; Yet if the stony cold

Haue not all seized on your frozen hart,

Let one word fall that may your griefe vnfold,

And tell the secret of your mortall smart;

He oft finds present helpe, who does his griefe impart.

47
Then casting vp a deadly looke, full low,

Shee sight from bottome of her wounded brest,

And after, many bitter throbs did throw

With lips full pale and foltring tongue opprest,

These words she breathed forth from riuen chest;

Leaue, ah leaue off, what euer wight thou bee,

To let a wearie wretch from her dew rest,

And trouble dying soules tranquilitee.

Take not away now got, which none would giue to me.

48
Ah farre be it (said he) Deare dame fro mee,

To hinder soule from her desired rest,

Or hold sad life in long captiuitee:

For all I seeke, is but to haue redrest

The bitter pangs, that doth your heart infest.

Tell then, ô Lady tell, what fatall priefe

Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest?

That I may cast to compasse your reliefe,

Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe.

49
With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye,

As heauen accusing guiltie of her death,

And with dry drops congealed in her eye,

In these sad words she spent her vtmost breath:

Heare then, ô man, the sorrowes that vneath

My tongue can tell, so farre all sense they pas:

Loe this dead corpse, that lies here vnderneath,

The gentlest knight, that euer on greene gras

Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir Mortdant was.

50
Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now)

My Lord my loue; my deare Lord, my deare loue,

So long as heauens iust with equall brow,

Vouchsafed to behold vs from aboue,

One day when him high courage did emmoue,

As wont ye knights to seeke aduentures wilde,

He pricked forth, his puissant force to proue,

Me then he left enwombed of this child,

This lucklesse child, whom thus ye see with bloud defild.

51
Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse)

To come, where vile
Acrasia
does wonne,

Acrasia
a false enchaunteresse,

That many errant knights hath foule fordonne:

Within a wandring Island, that doth ronne

And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is,

Faire Sir, if euer there ye trauell, shonne

The cursed land where many wend amis,

And know it by the name; it hight the
Bowre of blis.

52
Her blisse is all in pleasure and delight,

Wherewith she makes her louers drunken mad,