Now when Aldeboran was mounted high
Above the shiny Cassiopeia's chair,
And all in deadly sleep did drowned lie,
One knocked at the door, and in would fare;1
He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware,
That ready entrance was not at his call;
For on his back a heavy load he bare
Of nightly stealths, and pillage several,2
* Robbery. Which he had got abroad by purchase criminal.3
5 Igno
rance.
6 Superstition.
He was, to weet, a stout and sturdy thief,
Wont to rob churches of their ornaments,
And poor men's boxes of their due relief,
Which given was to them for good intents:
The holy saints of their rich vestiments
He did disrobe, when all men careless slept;
And spoil'd the priests of their habiliments;
Whiles none the holy things in safety kept,
Then he by cunning sleights in at the window crept.
And all, that he by right or wrong could find,
Unto this house he brought, and did bestow
Upon the daughter of this woman blind,
Abessa,5 daughter of Corceca slow,
With whom he whoredom used that few did know,
And fed her fat with feast of offerings,
And plenty, which in all the land did grow;
Ne spared he to give her gold and rings:
And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.
Thus, long the door with rage and threats he bett;8
Yet of those fearful women none durst rise,
(The lion frayed them,) him in to let;
He would no longer stay him to advise,
But open breaks the door in furious wise,
And ent'ring is; when that disdainful beast,
Encount'ring fierce, him sudden doth surprise;
And, seizing cruel claws on trembling breast,
Under his lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.
Him booteth not resist, nor succour call,
His bleeding heart is in the venger's hand;
Who straight him rent in thousand pieces small,
And quite dismember'd hath: the thirsty land
Drank up his life; his corse left on the strand.
His fearful friends wear out the woeful night,
Ne1 dare to weep, nor seem to understand
The heavy hap, which on them is alight; [might.
Affray'd, lest to themselves the like mishappen
Now when broad day the world discovered has,
Up Una rose, up rose the lion eke;2
And on their former journey forward pass,
In ways unknown, her wand'ring Knight to seek,
With pains for passing that long-wand'ring Greek, Ulysses. That for his love refused deity:
Such were the labours of this Lady meek,
Still seeking him, that from her still did fly; Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened1 nigh.
Soon as she parted thence, the fearful twain,
That blind old woman, and her daughter dear,
Came forth; and, finding Kirkrapine there slain,
For anguish great they gan to rend their hair,
And beat their breasts, and naked flesh to tear:
And when they both had wept and wail'd their fill,
Then forth they ran, like two amazed deer, Half mad through malice and revenging will, To follow her, that was the causer of their ill:
Whom overtaking, they gan loudly bray,
With hollow howling, and lamenting cry;
Shamefully at her railing all the way,
And her accusing of dishonesty,
That was the flower of faith and chastity
And still, amidst her railing she did pray
That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery,
Might fall on her, and follow all the way;
And that in endless error she might ever stray.
But, when she saw her prayers nought prevail,
She back returned with some labour lost;
And in the way, as she did weep and wail,
A knight her met in mighty arms embost,1
Yet knight was not for all his bragging boast;
But subtle Archimag, that Una sought
By trains2 into new troubles to have tost:
Of that old woman tidings he besought,
If that of such a lady she could tellen ought.
Therewith she gan her passion to renew,
And cry, and curse, and rail, and rend her hair,
Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,
That caused her shed so many a bitter tear;
And so forth told the story of her fear.
Much seemed he to moan her hapless chance,
And after for that Lady did inquere;
Which being taught, he forward gan advance His fair enchanted steed, and eke3 his charmed lance.
Ere long he came where Una travell'd slow,
And that wild champion waiting her beside;
Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show
Himself too nigh at hand, but turned wide
Unto an hill; from whence when she him spied,
By his like-seeming shield her Knight by name
She ween'd1 it was, and towards him ride:
gan
Approaching nigh she wist it was the same;
And with fair fearful humbless towards him she
And weeping said, Ah my long-lacked lord,
Where have ye been thus long out of my sight?
Much feared I to have been quite abhorr'd,
Or ought have done, that ye displeasen might;
That should as death unto my dear heart light:
For since mine eye your joyous sight did miss,
My cheerful day is turn'd to cheerless night,
And eke2 my night of death the shadow is:
But welcome now, my light, and shining lamp of
bliss!'
He thereto meeting said, 'My dearest dame,
Far be it from your thought, and from my will,
To think that knighthood I so much should shame,
As you to leave that have me loved still,
And chose in Faery court, of mere goodwill,
Where noblest knights were to be found on earth.
The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skill
To bring forth fruit, and make eternal dearth,
Then I leave you, my liefe, yborn of heavenly
birth.
'And sooth to say, why I left you so long,
Was for to seek adventure in strange place;
Where, Archimago said, a felon strong
To many knights did daily work disgrace;
But knight he now shall never more deface:
Good cause of mine excuse that motel ye please
Well to accept, and evermore embrace
My faithful service, that by land and seas Have vow'd you to defend: now then your plaint appease.
His lovely 2 words her seem'd due recompence
Of all her passed pains: one loving hour
For many years of sorrow can dispence; 3
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sour.
She has forgot how many a woeful stowre1
For him she late endured; she speaks no more
Of past: true is, that true love hath no power
To looken back; his eyes be fixt before. [sore.
Before her stands her Knight, for whom she toil'd so
Much like, as when the beaten marinere,
That long hath wander'd in the ocean wide,
Oft soused in swelling Tethys' saltish tear;
And long time having tann'd his tawny hide
With blust'ring breath of heaven, that none can bide,
And scorching flames of fierce Orion's hound; 5
Soon as the port from far he has espied,
His cheerful whistle merrily doth sound, [around.
And Nereus crowns with cups; his mates him pledge
Such joy made Una, when her Knight she found;
And eke th' enchanter joyous seem'd no less
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