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Still fled he forward, looking backward still;
But through long anguish and selfe-murdring thought,
That all his substance was consum'd to nought,
Whence he with crooked clawes so long did crall, That at the last he found a cave with entrance small.
Into the same he creepes, and thenceforth there 58
In drery darkenes and continuall feare
Ne ever rests he in tranquillity,
The roring billowes beat his bowre so boystrously.
Ne ever is he wont on ought to feed
But todes and frogs, his pasture poysonous,
That doth with curelesse care consume the hart,
Croscuts the liver with internall smart,
And doth transfixe the soule with deathes eternall dart
Yet can he never dye, but dying lives,
And doth himselfe with sorrow new sustaine, That death and life attonce unto him gives, And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine. There dwels he ever, miserable swaine, Hatefull both to him selfe and every wight; Where he, through privy griefe and horrour vaine, Is woxen so deform'd, that he has quight Forgot he was a man, and Gelosy is hight.
Britomart chaceth Ollyphant ;
HATEFULL hellish Snake! what furie furst
Where in her bosome she thee long had nurst,
And in his stead let Love for ever dwell;
And ye, faire Ladies, that your kingdomes make
Forth ryding from Malbeccoes hostlesse hous,
From whom the Squyre of Dames was reft whylere; This all as bad as she, and worse, if worse ought were.
For as the sister did in feminine
And filthy lust exceede all woman kinde,
And pricked fiercely forward where she did him vew.
Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde,
But with like fiercenesse did ensew the chace. Whom when the Gyaunt saw, he soone resinde His former suit, and from them fled apace: They after both, and boldly bad him bace, And each did strive the other to outgoe; But he them both outran a wondrous space, For he was long, and swift as any Roe, And now made better speed t'escape his feared foe.
It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare,
But Britomart the flowre of chastity;
For he the powre of chaste hands might not beare,
The wood they enter, and search everie where;
Fayre Britomart so long him followed,
That she at last came to a fountaine sheare, By which there lay a knight all wallowed Upon the grassy ground, and by him neare His haberjeon, his helmet, and his speare: A little of his shield was rudely throwne, On which the winged boy in colours cleare Depeincted was, full easie to be knowne, And he thereby, where ever it in field was showne.
His face upon the grownd did groveling ly,
Still as she stood, she heard with grievous throb
He sayd; "O soverayne Lord! that sit'st on hye
Or hast thou, Lord, of good mens cause no heed? Or doth thy justice sleepe and silent ly?
What booteth then the good and righteous deed, If goodnesse find no grace, nor righteousnes no meed?
"If good find grace, and righteousnes reward, Why then is Amoret in caytive band,
Sith that more bounteous creature never far'd On foot upon the face of living land? Or if that hevenly justice may withstand The wrongfull outrage of unrighteous men, Why then is Busirane with wicked hand Suffred, these seven monethes day, in secret den My Lady and my love so cruelly to pen!
"My Lady and my love is cruelly pend
In dolefull darkenes from the vew of day,
Yet thou, vile man, vile Scudamore, art sound,