XXXIII.

« Palmer,” him answered the Red-crosse knight, "His be the praise that this atchiev'ment wrought, "Who made my hand the organ of his might ; "More than 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 happy newes; "For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle XXXIV.

་་་་་

[thewes."
So courteous conge both did give and take,
With right hands plighted, pledges of good will;
Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make
With his blacke palmer, that him guided stilled
Still he him guided over dale and hill,

And with his steedy staffe did point his way s
His race with reason, and with words his will, A
From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay,
And suffred nat in wrath his hasty steps to stray.
XXXV.

In this faire wize they traveild long yfere,
Through many hard assayes which did betide,
Of which he honour still away did beare,
And spred his glory through all countryes wide.
At last, as chaunst them by a forest side
To passe, for succour from the schorching 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.

XXXVI.

But if that carelesse hevens," quoth she, "despise "The doome of iust revenge, and take delight ❝ To see sad pageaunts of men's miseries, "As bownd by them to live in lives despight,

"Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight. "Come then, come soone,come, sweetest Death, to me, "And take away this long lent loathed light:

"Sharpe be thywounds, but sweete the medicines be, "That long captived soules from weary thraldome XXXVII.

[free.

"But thou, sweete Babe! whom frowning froward "Hath made sad witnesse of thy father's fall, [Fate "Sith heven thee deignes to hold in living state, "Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall, "Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall:

Live thou, and to thy mother dead attest, "That cleare she dide from blemish criminall; "Thy little hands embrewd in bleeding brest "Loe I for pledges leave. So give me leave to rest." XXXVIII.

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw,
That through the wood re-echoed againe,
And after gave 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 shee does feele,
Braies out her latest breath, and up her eies doth seele.

XXXIX.

Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict
From his tall steed, he rusht into the thick,
And soone arrived where that sad pourtraict
Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quick;
In whose white alabaster brest did stick mus do)
A cruell knife, that made a griesly wownd, 1)**
From which forth gusht a stream of gore blood thick,
That all her goodly garments staind arownd,
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy grownd.
XL.X

Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart, as proditult **
Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay,
Which shee increased with her bleeding hart, e
And the cleane waves with purple gore did ray;
Als in her lap a lovely babe did play on
His cruel sport instead of sorrow dew;odaykd
For in her streaming blood he did embay
His litle hands and tender ioints 'embrew
Pitifull spectacle, as ever eie did vew.

XLI.

Besides them both, upon the soiled gras,
The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,
Whose armour all with blood besprincled was;
His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red
Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett being ded;
Seemd to have beene a goodly personage,
Now in his freshest flowre of lustyhed,
Fitt to enflame faire lady with loves rage;

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

XLII.

Whom when the good Sir Guyon did behold,toda His hart gan wexe as starke as marble stone, w And his fresh blood did frieze with fearefull cold, That all his sences seem'd bereft attone, oder du At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to grone, repai As lion, grudging in his great disdaine, dio uma f Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone; Til ruth and fraile affection did constraine [paine. His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward

XLIII.

Out of her gored wound the cruell steel
He lightly snatcht, and did the floodgate stoplic
With his faire garment; then gan softly feeli
Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop

Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop; or bu
Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire
To call backe life to her forsaken shop;
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,
That at the last shee gan to breath out living aire.
XLIV.

Which he perceiving greatly gan reioice, od t
And goodly counsell (that for wounded harte la vid
Is meetest medicine) tempred with sweete voice;
"Ay me! deare Lady, which the ymage art
Of ruefull pitty and impatient smart,
"What direfull chaunce, armd with avenging fate,
"Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell part,
"Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date? [late."
"Speake, O dear Lady! speake : help never comes too
Volume II.

I

XLV.

Therewith her dim eie-lids she up gan reare, & M
On which the drery death did sitt, as sad pond eH
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare:.
But when as him, all in bright armour clad, wr€
Before her standing she espied had, nios aider
As one out of a deadly dreame affright,
She weakely started, yet she nothing drade M
Streight downe againe herselfe in great despight
She groveling threw to ground, as hating life and

XLVI.

A

[light. The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine Uplifted light, and softly did uphold evil s Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunck againe, Till he his armes about her sides gan fold, mil And to her said, "Yet if the stony cold "Have not all seized on your frozen hart, "Let one word fall that may your grief unfold, "And tell the secrete of your mortall smart: "He oft' finds present helpe who does his griefe XLVII. [impart." Then casting up a deadly looke, full low She sigh't from bottome of her wounded brest, And after many bitter throbs did throw j.

With lips full pale, and foltring tong opprest, These words she breathed forth from riven chest “Leave, ah! leave off, whatever wight thou bee, "To lett a weary wretch from her dew rest, "And trouble dying soules tranquilitee: [to me." "Take not away now got, which none would give