Nought booted it the Paynim then to strive;
For as a bittur in the eagles clawe,
That may not hope by flight to scape alive,
Still waytes for death with dread and trembling aw;
So he, now subiect to the victours law,
Did not once move, nor upward 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 despysd to dye.
But, full of princely bounty and great mind,
The Conqueror nought cared him to slay;
But, casting wronges and all revenge behind,
More glory thought to give life then decay,
And sayd; "Paynim, this is thy dismall day;
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce,
And my trew liegeman yield thyselfe for ay,
Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce,
And all thy wronges will wipe out of my sovenaunce."
"Foole," sayd the Pagan, " I thy gift defye;
But use thy fortune, as it doth befall;
And say, that I not overcome doe dye,
But in despight of life for death doe 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 unlace,
And left his headlesse body bleeding all the place.
By this, Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt,
Life having maystered her sencelesse foe;
And looking up, whenas his shield he lakt
And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous woe:
But when the Palmer, whom he long ygoe
Had lost, he by him spyde, right glad he grew,
And saide; "Deare Sir, whom wandring to and fro
I long have lackt, I ioy thy face to vew!
Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never fro me drew.
"But read what wicked hand hath robbed mee
Of my good sword and shield?" The Palmer, glad With so fresh hew uprysing him to see,
Fayre 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 prostráte.
Which when he heard, and saw the tokens trew,
His hart with great affection was embayed,
And to the Prince, with bowing reverence dew,
As to the patrone of his life, thus sayd;
My Lord, my Liege, by whose most gratious ayd
I live this day, and see my foes subdewd,
What may suffice to be for meede repayd Of so great graces as ye have me shewd, But to be ever bound"
Good turnes be counted, as a servile bond,
To bind their dooers to receive their meed?
Are not all Knightes by oath bound to withstond
Oppressours powre by armes and puissant hond?
Suffise, that I have done my dew in place."
So goodly purpose they together fond
Of kindnesse and of courteous aggrace;
The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled apace.
The House of Temperaunce, in which
Doth sober Alma dwell,
Besiegd of many foes, whom straung-
er Knights to flight compell.
Of all Gods workes, which doe this worlde adorne,
There is no one more faire and excellent
Then is mans body, both for powre and forme,
Whiles it is kept in sober government;
But none then it more fowle and indecent,
Distempred through misrule and passions bace;
It grows a monster, and incontinent
Doth lose his dignity and native grace :
Behold, who list, both one and other in this place.
After the Paynim brethren conquer'd were,
The Briton Prince recov'ring his stolne sword,
And Guyon his lost shield, they both yfere
Forth passed on their way in fayre accord,
Till him the Prince with gentle court did bord;
"Sir Knight, mote I of you this court'sy read,
To weet why on your shield, so goodly scord,
Beare ye the picture of that Ladies head?
Full lively is the semblaunt, though the substance dead."
Fayre Sir," sayd he, "if in that picture dead
Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine shew ;
What mote ye weene, if the trew lively-head
Of that most glorious visage ye did vew!
But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew,
That is, her bounty, and imperiall powre,
Thousand times fairer then her mortall hew,
O! how great wonder would your thoughts devoure, And infinite desire into your spirite poure!
"She is the mighty Queene of Faëry,
Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe beare;
Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity,
Throughout the world renowmed far and neare,
My Life, my Liege, my Soveraine, my Deare,
Whose glory shineth as the morning starre,
And with her light the earth enlumines cleare;
Far reach her mercies, and her praises farre,
As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in warre."
"Thrise happy man," said then the Briton Knight,
"Whom gracious lott and thy great valiaunce
Have made thee soldier of that Princesse bright,
Which with her bounty and glad countenaunce
Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high advaunce!
How may straunge Knight hope ever to aspire,
By faithfull service and meete amenaunce,
Unto such blisse? sufficient were that hire
For losse of thousand lives, to die at her desire."
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