XLII.

Eternall thraldome was to her more liefe
Then losse of chastitie, or chaunge of love:
Dye had she rather in tormenting griefe
Then should of falsenesse her reprove,

any

Or loosenes, that she lightly did remove.

Most vertuous Virgin! glory be thy meed,

And crowne of heavenly prayse with saintes above, Where most sweet hymmes of this thy famous deed Are still emongst them song, that far my rymes exceed:'

XLIII.

Fit song of angels caroled to bee!

But yet whatso my feeble Muse can frame,

Shal be t'advance thy goodly chastitee,

And to enroll thy memorable name

In th' heart of every honourable Dame,
That they thy vertuous deedes may imitate,
And be partakers of thy endlesse fame.

Yt yrkes me leave thee in this wofull state,
To tell of Satyrane where I him left of late:

XLIV.

Who having ended with that Squyre of Dames
A long discourse of his adventures vayne,
The which himselfe then Ladies more defames,
And finding not th' hyena to be slayne,
With that same Squyre retourned backe againe
To his first way: And, as they forward went,
They spyde a Knight fayre pricking on the playne,
As if he were on some adventure bent,

And in his port appeared manly hardiment.

XLV.

Sir Satyrane him towardes did addresse,

To weet what wight he was, and what his quest:
And, comming nigh, eftsoones he gan to gesse
Both by the burning hart which on his brest
He bare, and by the colours in his crest,
That Paridell it was: Tho to him yode,
And, him saluting as beseemed best,

Gan first inquire of tydinges farre abrode;
And afterwardes on what adventure now he rode.

XLVI.

Who thereto answering said; "The tydinges bad, Which now in Faery Court all men doe tell, Which turned hath great mirth to mourning sad, Is the late ruine of proud Marinell,

And suddein parture of faire Florimell

To find him forth: and after her are gone

All the brave Knightes, that doen in armes excell, To savegard her ywandred all alone;

Emongst the rest my lott (unworthy') is to be one."

XLVII.

"Ah! gentle Knight," said then Sir Satyrane,

66

Thy labour all is lost, I greatly dread,

That hast a thanklesse service on thee taʼne,
And offrest sacrifice unto the dead:

For dead, I surely doubt, thou maist aread
Henceforth for ever Florimell to bee;
That all the noble Knights of Maydenhead,
Which her ador'd, may sore repent with mee,
And all faire Ladies may for ever sory bee."

XLVIII.

Which wordes when Paridell had heard, his hew
Gan greatly chaung, and seemd dismaid to bee;
Then sayd; "Fayre Sir, how may I weene it trew,
That ye doe tell in such uncerteintee?

Or speake ye of report, or did ye see
Iust cause of dread, that makes ye

doubt so sore?

For perdie elles how mote it ever bee,

That ever hand should dare for to engore

Her noble blood! The hevens such crueltie abhore."

XLIX.

"These eyes did see that they will ever rew

T'have seene," quoth he, "whenas a monstrous beast The palfrey whereon she did travell slew, And of his bowels made his bloody feast: Which speaking token sheweth at the least Her certein losse, if not her sure decay: - Besides, that more suspicion encreast, I found her golden girdle cast astray,

Distaynd with durt and blood, as relique of the pray."

L.

"Ah me!" said Paridell, “the signes be sadd; And, but God turne the same to good soothsay, That Ladies safetie is sore to be dradd:

succeed!

Yet will I not forsake my forward way,
Till triall doe more certeine truth bewray."
"Faire Sir," quoth he, "well may it you
Ne long-shall Satyrane behind you stay;
But to the rest, which in this quest proceed,
My labour adde, and be partaker of their speed."

LI.

"Ye noble Knights," said then the Squyre of Dames, "Well may yee speede in so praiseworthy payne! But sith the sunne now ginnes to slake his beames In deawy vapours of the westerne mayne, And lose the teme out of his weary wayne,

Mote not mislike you also to abate

Your zealous hast, till morrow next againe

Both light of heven and strength of men relate: Which if ye please, to yonder Castle turne your gate."

LII.

That counsell pleased well; so all yfere
Forth marched to a Castle them before;
Where soone arriving they restrained were
Of ready entraunce, which ought evermore
To errant Knights be commune: Wondrous sore
Thereat displeasd they were, till that young Squyre
Gan them informe the cause why that same dore
Was shut to all which lodging did desyre:

The which to let you weet will further time requyre.

CANTO IX.

Malbecco will no straunge Knights host,

For peevish gealosy:

Paridell giusts with Britomart:

Both shew their auncestry.

I.

REDOUBTED Knights, and honorable Dames,
To whom I levell all my labours end,
Right sore I feare least with unworthy blames
This odious argument my rymes should shend,
Or ought your goodly patience offend,
Whiles of a wanton Lady I doe write,

Which with her loose incontinence doth blend

The shyning glory of your soveraine light; And knighthood fowle defaced by a faithlesse Knight.

II.

But never let th' ensample of the bad

Offend the good: for good, by paragone

Of evill, may more notably be rad ;

As white seemes fayrer macht with blacke attone:
Ne all are shamed by the fault of one:

For lo! in heven, whereas all goodnes is
Emongst the angels, a whole legione

Of wicked sprightes did fall from happy blis;

What wonder then if one, of women all, did mis?