Than the glad merchant, that does view from
His ship far come from wat'ry wilderness;
He hurls out vows, and Neptune oft doth bless.
So forth they past; and all the way they spent
Discoursing of her dreadful late distress,
In which he ask'd her, what the lion meant;
Who told, her all that fell in journey, as she went.
They had not ridden far, when they might see
One pricking towards them with hasty heat,
Full strongly arm'd, and on a courser free,
That through his fierceness foaméd all with sweat,
And the sharp iron did for anger eat,
When his hot rider spurr'd his chaféd side;
His look was stern, and seeméd still to threat
Cruel revenge, which he in heart did hide: [dy'd.
And on his shield Sans loy1 in bloody lines was
When nigh he drew unto this gentle pair,
And saw the red cross, which the knight did bear,
He burnt in ire; and
gan eftsoones 2
prepare
Himself to battle with his couchéd spear.
Loth was that other, and did faint through fear,
To taste th' untriéd dint of deadly steel:
But yet his Lady did so well him cheer,
That hope of new good hap he gan to feel; [heel. So bent his spear, and spurr'd his horse with iron
But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce
And full of wrath, that, with his sharp-head-
Through vainly crosséd3 shield he quite did pierce; Marke And, had his staggering steed not shrunk for fear,
Through shield and body eke1 he should him bear:
Yet, so great was the puissance2 of his push,
That from his saddle quite he did him bear:
He tumbling rudely down to ground did rush,
And from his goréd wound a well of blood did gush.
Dismounting lightly from his lofty steed,
He to him leapt, in mind to reave3 his life,
And proudly said; 'Lo, there the worthy meed
Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloody knife:
Henceforth his ghost, freed from repining strife,
In
peace may passen over Lethe lake;
When mourning altars, purg'd with enemy's life,
The black infernal Furies doen aslake: 5
Life from Sansfoy thou took'st, Sansloy shall from
thee take.'
Therewith in haste his helmet gan unlace,
Till Una cried, 'O hold that heavy hand,
Dear sir, what ever that thou be in place:6
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand
Now at thy mercy; mercy not withstand;
For he is one the truest knight alive,
Though conquer'd now he lie on lowly land;
And, whilst him fortune favour'd, fair did thrive
In bloody field; therefore of life him not deprive.'
Her piteous words might not abate his rage;
But, rudely rending up his helmet, would
Have slain him straight: but when he sees his age,
And hoary head of Archimago old,
His hasty hand he doth amazed hold,
And, half ashaméd, wonder'd at the sight:
For that old man well knew he, though untold,
In charms and magic to have wondrous might; Ne1 ever wont in field, ne in round lists, to fight:
And said, 'Why Archimago, luckless sire,
What do I see? what hard mishap is this,
That hath thee hither brought to taste mine ire?
Or thine the fault, or mine the error is,
Instead of foe to wound my friend amiss?'
He answer'd naught, but in a trance still lay,
And on those guileful dazéd2 eyes of his
The cloud of death did sit; which doen away,3
He left him lying so, ne1 would no longer stay:
But to the virgin comes; who all this while
Amazéd stands, herself so mock'd to see
By him, who has the guerdon5 of his guile,
For so misfeigning her true Knight to be:
Yet is she now in more perplexity,
Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold,
From whom her booteth not at all to fly:
Who, by her cleanly garment catching hold,
Her from her palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold.
But her fierce servant, full of kingly awe
And high disdain, whenas his sov'reign dame
So rudely handled by her foe he saw,
With gaping jaws full greedy at him came,
And, ramping on his shield, did ween the same
Have reft away with his sharp rending claws:
But he was stout, and lust did now inflame
His courage more, that from his griping paws
He hath his shield redeem'd; and forth his sword
he draws.
3 Having passed off.
4 Nor.
O then, too weak and feeble was the force
Of salvage1 beast, his puissance2 to withstand!
For he was strong, and of so mighty corse, 3
As ever wielded spear in warlike hand;
And feats of arms did wisely understand.
Eftsoones he piercéd through his chaféd chest
With thrilling point of deadly iron brand,
And launcht his lordly heart: with death opprest
He roar'd aloud, whiles life forsook his stubborn
Who now is left to keep the forlorn maid
From raging spoil of lawless victor's will?
Her faithful guard remov'd; her hope dismay'd;
Herself a yielded prey to save or spill!6
He now, lord of the field, his pride to fill,
With foul reproaches and disdainful spite
Her vilely entertains; and, will or nill,
Bears her away upon his courser light:
Her prayers naught prevail; his rage is more of
might.
And all the way, with great lamenting pain,
And piteous plaints, she filleth his dull ears,
That stony heart could riven have in twain;
And all the way she wets with flowing tears;
But he, enrag'd with rancour, nothing hears.
Her servile beast* yet would not leave her so,
But follows her far off, ne7 aught he fears
To be partaker of her wand'ring woe.
More mild in beastly kind, than that her beastly foe.
* 'Servile Beast:' i. e., her serviceable ass.
CANTO IV.
To sinful House of Pride Duess
a guides the faithful Knight;
Where, brother's death to wreak, Sansjoy
Doth challenge him to fight.
YOUNG knight whatever, that dost arms profess,
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of fickleness,
In choice, and change, of thy dear-lovéd dame; Lest thou of her believe too lightly blame, And rash misweening1 do thy heart remove: For unto knight there is no greater shame, Then2 lightness and inconstancy in love: [prove. 2 Than. That doth this Redcross Knight's ensample plainly
Who, after that he had fair Una lorn,3
Through light misdeeming of her loyalty;
And false Duessa in her stead had borne,
Calléd Fidessa, and so suppos'd to be;
Long with her travell'd; till at last they see
A goodly building, bravely garnished;
The house of mighty prince it seem'd to be;
And towards it a broad highway that led,
All bare through people's feet, which thither
travelled.
Great troops of people travell'd thitherward
Both day and night, of each degree and place;
But few returnéd, having scapéd hard,
With baleful beggary, or foul disgrace;
Which ever after in most wretched case,
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
|