As weening that the sad end of the war;
And
gan to Highest God entirely1 pray
That feared chance from her to turn away:
With folded hands, and knees full lowly bent,
All night she watcht; ne once adown would lay
Her dainty limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.
The morrow next gan early to appear,
That Titan rose to run his daily race;
But early, ere the morrow next gan rear
Out of the sea fair Titan's dewy face,
Up rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loved Knight to move his manly pace:
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.
At last she saw, where he upstarted brave
Out of the well wherein he drenched lay:
As eagle, fresh out of the ocean wave,
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himself with feathers youthly gay,
Like eyas hawk up mounts unto the skies,
His newly-budded pinions to assay,
And marvels at himself, still as he flies:
So new this new-born Knight to battle new did rise.
Whom when the damned fiend so fresh did spy,
No wonder if he wonder'd at the sight,
And doubted whether his late enemy
It were, or other new suppliéd knight.
He now, to prove his late-renewed might,
High brandishing his bright dew-burning 4 blade,
4 Bright with the water of
Upon his crested scalp so sore did smite,
That to the scull a yawning wound it made:
The deadly dint his dulléd senses all dismay'd.
I wot not, whether the revenging steel
Were harden'd with that holy water dew
Wherein he fell; or sharper edge did feel;
Or his baptized hands now greater grew;
Or other secret virtue did ensue;
Else never could the force of fleshly arm,
Ne molten metal, in his blood embrue:
For, till that stound,2 could never wight him harm By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty
The cruel wound enragéd him so sore,
That loud he yelled for exceeding pain;
As hundred ramping lions seem'd to roar,
Whom rav'nous hunger did thereto constrain.
Then gan
he toss aloft his stretchéd train,3
And therewith scourge the buxom air so sore,
4
That to his force to yielden it was fain;
Ne aught his sturdy strokes might stand afore,
That high trees overthrew, and rocks in pieces tore:
The same advancing high above his head,
With sharp intended 5 sting so rude him smote,
That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead;
Ne living wight would have him life behott:6
The mortal sting his angry needle shot
Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seas'd,7
Where fast it stuck, ne would thereout be got:
The grief thereof him wondrous sore diseas'd,
Ne might his rankling pain with patience be appeas'd.
But yet, more mindful of his honour dear
Than of the grievous smart which him did wring,
From loathed soil he can him lightly rear,
And strove to loose the far infixéd sting:
Which, when in vain he tried with struggëling,
Inflamed with wrath, his raging blade he heft,1
And strook so strongly, that the knotty string
Of his huge tail he quite asunder cleft; [left.
Five joints thereof he hew'd, and but the stump him
Heart cannot think, what outrage and what cries,
With foul enfouldred2 smoke and flashing fire,
The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skies,
That all was coveréd with darkness dire:
Then fraught with rancour, and engorgéd ire,
He cast at once him to avenge for all;
And, gath'ring up himself out of the mire
With his uneven wings, did fiercely fall
Upon his sun-bright shield, and gript it fast withal. Seized.
Much was the man encumber'd with his hold,
In fear to lose his weapon in his paw,
Ne wist yet, how his talons to unfold;
Nor harder was from Cerberus' greedy jaw
To pluck a bone, than from his cruel claw
To reave by strength the gripéd gage away:
Thrice he assay'd it from his foot to draw,
And thrice in vain to draw it did assay;
It booted naught to think to rob him of his prey.
Tho, when he saw no power might prevail,
His trusty sword he call'd to his last aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assail,
And double blows about him stoutly laid,
That glancing fire out of the iron play'd;
As sparkles from the anvil use to fly,
When heavy hammers on the wedge are sway'd;
Therewith at last he forc'd him to untie
One of his grasping feet, him to defend thereby.
The other foot, fast fixéd on his shield,
Whenas no strength nor strokes mote him
constrain
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield;
He smote thereat with all his might and main,
That naught so wondrous puissance might sustain:
Upon the joint the lucky steel did light,
And made such way, that hew'd it quite in twain;
The paw yet misséd not his minisht1 might,
But hung still on the shield, as it at first was pight.2
For grief thereof and devilish despite,
From his infernal furnace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimméd all the heav'n's light,
Enroll'd in duskish smoke and brimstone blue:
As burning Etna from his boiling stew
Doth belch out flames, and rocks in pieces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountains molten new,
Enwrapt in coal-black clouds and filthy smoke,
That all the land with stench, and heav'n with
horror, choke.
The heat whereof, and harmful pestilence,
So sore him noyd, that forc'd him to retire
A little backward for his best defence,
To save his body from the scorching fire,
Which he from hellish entrails did expire.*
It chanc'd, (Eternal God that chance did guide,)
As he recoiléd backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,
And down he fell, with dread of shame sore terrified.
There grew a goodly tree him fair beside,
Loaden with fruit and apples rosy red,
As they in pure vermilion had been dy'd,
Whereof great virtues over all 2 were redd:3
For happy life to all which thereon fed,
And life eke everlasting did befall:
Great God it planted in that blessed stedd 5
With his Almighty hand, and did it call
The Tree of Life, the crime of our first father's fall.
In all the world like was not to be found,
Save in that soil, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprung out of the fruitful ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dread dragon all did overthrow.
Another like fair tree eke grew thereby,
Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoons 7 did know
Both good and ill: O mournful memory! [to die!
2 Every
where.
3 Declared.
That tree through one man's fault hath done us 8 all 8 Caused
From that first tree forth flow'd, as from a well,
A trickling stream of balm, most soveraine
And dainty dear, which on the ground still fell,
And overflowéd all the fertile plain,
As 10 it had dewéd been with timely rain:
Life and long health that gracious ointment gave;
And deadly wounds could heal; and rear again
The senseless corse appointed for the grave:
Into that same he fell, which did from death him save.
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