By this she had him lulled fast asleep,.
That of no worldly thing he care did take;
Then she with liquors strong his eyes did steep,
That nothing should him hastily awake:
So she him left, and did herself betake
Unto her boat again, with which she cleft
The slothful wave of that great grisly lake;
Soon she that island far behind her left,
And now is come to that same place where first she weft.
By this time was the worthy Guyon brought
Unto the other side of that wide strand
Where she was rowing, and for passage sought:
Him needed not long call; she soon to hand
Her ferry brought, where him she biding found
With his sad guide: himself she took aboard,
But the black palmer suffer'd still to stand,
Ne would for price or prayers once afford
To ferry that old man over the perilous ford.
Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being enter'd might not back retire;
For the flit bark obeying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly, as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course
Through the dull billows, thick as troubled mire,
Whom neither wind out of their seat could force,
Nor timely tides did drive out of their sluggish
And by the way, as was her wonted guise,
Her merry fit she freshly gan to rear,
And did of joy and jollity devise,
Herself to cherish, and her guest to cheer.
The knight was courteous, and did not forbear
Her honest mirth and pleasaunce to partake;
But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and jeer,
And
pass the bonds of modest mearimake,
Her dalliance he despis'd, and follies did forsake.
Yet she still followed her former style,
And said, and did all that mote him delight,
Till they arrived in that pleasant isle,
Where sleeping late she left her other knight:
But whenas Guyon of that land had sight,
He wist himself amiss, and angry said,
"Ah! Dame, perdy ye have not done me right,
Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obey'd:
Me little needed from my right way to have stray'd."
"Fair Sir!" quoth she, "be not displeas'd at all;
Who fares on sea may not command his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call:
The sea is wide, and easy for to stray,
The wind unstable, and doth never stay:
But here a while ye may in safety rest,
Till season serve new passage to assay:
Better safe port, than be in seas distrest."
Therewith she laugh'd, and did her earnest end in
But he, half discontent, mote natheless
Himself
appease, and issued forth on shore;
The joys whereof, and happy fruitfulness,
Such as he saw, she gan him lay before,
And all though pleasant, yet she made much more.
The fields did laugh, the flowers did freshly spring,
The trees did bud, and early blossoms bore,
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,
And told the garden's pleasures in their caroling.
And she, more sweet than any bird on bough,
Would oftentimes amongst them bear a part,
And strive to pass (as she could well enough)
Their native music by her skilful art :
So did she all, that might his constant heart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprise,
And drown in dissolute delights apart,
Where noise of arms, or view of martial guise
Might not revive desire of nightly exercise.
But he was wise, and wary of her will,
And ever held his hand upon his heart;
Yet would not seem so rude and thewed ill,
As to despise so courteous seeming part,
That gentle lady did to him impart ;
But fairly tempering, fond desire subdued,
And ever her desired to depart;
She list not hear, but her disports pursue'd,'
And ever bade him stay till time the tide renew'd.
And now by this Cymochles' hour was spent,
That he awoke out of his idle dream;
And shaking off his drowsy dreriment,
'Gan him advise how ill did him beseem
In slothful sleep his moulten heart to steme,
And quench the brand of his conceived ire;
Tho' up he started, stirr'd with shame extreme,
Ne stayed for his damsel to enquire,
But marched to the strand, there passage to require.
And in the way he with Sir Guyon met,
Accompanied with Phædria the fair;
Eftsoons he gan to rage and inly fret,
Crying, "Let be that lady debonair,
Thou recreant knight, and soon thyself prepare
To battle, if thou mean her love to gain.
Lo, lo, already how the fowls in air
Do flock, awaiting shortly to obtain
Thy carcass for their prey, the guerdon of thy pain."
And therewithal he fiercely at him flew,
And with importune outrage him assail'd;
Who soon prepar'd, to field his sword forth drew,
And him with equal value countervail'd;
Their mighty strokes their habericons dismail'd,
And naked made each other's manly spalles;
The mortal steel dispiteously entail'd
Deep in their flesh, quite through the iron walls,
That a large purple stream adown their giambeux
Cymochles, that had never met before
So puissant foe, with envious despight
His proud more presumed force encreased,
Disdaining to be held so long in fight.
Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might,
As those unknightly railings which he spoke,
With wrathful fire his courage kindled bright,
Thereof devising shortly to be wroke,
And doubling all his powers, redoubled every stroke.
Both of them high at once their hands enhaunst,
And both at once their huge blows down did sway:
Cymochles' sword on Guyon's shield yglaunst,
And thereof nigh one quarter shear'd away :
But Guyon's angry blade so fierce did play
On th' other's helmet, which as Titan shone,
That quite it clove his plumed crest in tway,
And bared all his head into the bone,
Wherewith astonish'd still he stood as senseless stone.
Still as he stood, fair Phædria (that beheld
That deadly danger) soon atweene them ran,
And at their feet herself most humbly fell'd,
Crying with piteous voice and count'nance wan,
"Ah! well away! most noble lords, how can
Your cruel eyes endure so piteous sight
To shed your lives on ground? woe worth the man
That first did teach the cursed, steel to bite
In his own flesh, and make way to the living spright!
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