The Messenger approching to him spake; But his waste wordes retournd to him in vaine:

And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
In hast unto his Lord, where he him left afore.

So sound he slept, that nought mought him Thus, well instructed, to their worke they

awake.
[paine,
Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with
Whereat he gan to stretch; but he againe
Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.
As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine
Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence

Lo! there before his face his Ladie is,
Under blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke;
And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
With gentle blandishment and lovely looke,
Most like that virgin true which for her
knight him took.

L

All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight,
And half enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought have slaine her in his fierce des-
pight;

Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie night
In secret anguish and unpittied plaint,
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned
quight.'

Her doubtfull words made that redoubted
knight

Suspect her truth: yet since no' untruth he
knew,

Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight
He would not shend; but said, 'Deare dame,
I rew,
[you grew.

But hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde his hand; and gan himselfe advise
To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth. That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto
Wringing her hands, in wemens pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth
Both for her noble blood, and for her tender
youth.

6

LIV

Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; For all so deare as life is to my hart,

I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound:
Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse
smart,

Where cause is none; but to your rest depart.'
Not all content, yet seemd she to appease
Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art.
And fed with words that could not chose but
please :
[ease.
So, slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her

LV

Long after lay he musing at her mood,
Much griev'd to thinke that gentle Dame so
light,

For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
At last, dull wearines of former fight
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright.
That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his

braine

With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare delight:

But, when he saw his labour all was vaine, With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

IV

Then up he rose, and clad him hastily:
The dwarfe him brought his steed; so both
away do fly.

VII

Now when the rosy fingred Morning faire,
Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,
Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,
And the high hils Titan discovered,
The royall virgin shooke off drousy-hed;
And, rising forth out of her baser bowre,
Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled,
And for her dwarfe, that wont to wait each
howre:
[woeful stowre,
Then gan she wail and weepe to see that

VIII

And after him she rode, with so much speede As her slowe beast could make: but all in vaine, For him so far had borne his light-foot steede, Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine, That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine: Yet she her weary limbes would never rest; But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine, Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, He so ungently left her, whome she loved best.

IX

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull|
Unto his guest,who, after troublous sights [hast
And dreames, gau now to take more sound But subtill Archimago, when his guests
repast;
He saw divided into double parts,
Whom suddenly h wakes with fearful frights, And Una wandring in woods and forrests,
As one aghast with feends or damned sprights, Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish art,
And to him cals; Rise, rise! unhappy Swaine, That had such might over true meaning harts
That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,
wights
[chaine:
How he may worke unto her further smarts;
Have knit themselves in Venus shameful For her he hated as the hissing snake, [take.
Come, see where your false Lady doth her And in her many troubles did most pleasure

honor staine.'

V

All in amaze he suddenly up start
With sword in hand, and with the old man went;
Who soone him brought into a secret part,
Where that false couple were full closely ment
In wanton lust and leud enbracement:
Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire;
The eie of rea-on was with rage yblent,
And would have slaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.

VI

X

He then devisde himselfe how to disguise;
For by his mighty science he could take
As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,
As ever Proteus to him elfe could make:
Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake,
Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell;
That of himselfe he ofte for feare would quake,
O! who can tell
And oft would flie away.
The hidden powre of herbes, and might of
Magick spel?

ΧΙ

Retourning to his bed in torment great,
And bitter anguish of his guilty sight,
He could not rest; but did his stout heart eat,
And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,
Trkesome of life, and too long lingring night.
At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
Had spent his lampe, and brought forth A bounch of heares discolourd diversly.

But now seemde best the person to put on
Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
In mighty armes he was yclad anon,
And silver shield; upon his coward brest
A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest

dawning light;

Full jolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest;

And when he sate upon his courser free,
Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed
him to be.

XII

But he, the knight whose semblaunt he did
beare,

The true Saint George, was wandred far away,
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare:
Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray.
At last him chaunst to meete upon the way
A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde to point,
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay
Sans foy; full large of limbe and every joint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.

XIII

Hee had a faire companion of his way,
A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay;
And like a Persian mitre on her hed
Shee wore, with crowns and owches garnished,
The which her lavish lovers to her gave.
Her wanton palfrey all was overspred
With tinsell trappings, woven like a wave,
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses

brave.

XIV

With faire disport, and courting dalliaunce,
She intertainde her lover all the way;
But, when she saw the knight his speare ad-

vaunce,

She soone left off her mirth and wanton play,
And bad her knight addresse him to the fray,
His foe was nigh at hand. He, prickte with
pride

And hope to winne his Ladies hearte that day,
Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side
The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he
did ride.

XV

ΧΧ

The knight of the Redcrosse, when him he, The Lady, when she saw her champion fall
Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous, spide;
Gan fairely couch his scare, and towards ride. Staid not to waile his woefull funeral,
Soone meete they both, both fell and furious, But from him fled away with all her powre;
Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
That, daunted with theyr fore s hideous,
Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand; Bidding the dwarfe with him to bring away
The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.
And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous,
Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay; may.
Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,
For present cause was none of dread her to dis-

Doe backe rebutte, and ech to other yealdeth

land.

XVI

As when two rams stird with ambitious pride, Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke, Their horned fronts so fierce on either side Doe meete, that, with the terror of the shocke,

XXI

Shee turning backe, with ruefull counte

naunce,

Cride, Mercy, mercy, Sir, vouchsafe to show
On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce,
And to your nighty wil!' Her humblesse low,