Through every room he sought, and every bow'r ;

But no where could he find that woeful thrall.
At last he came unto an iron door,

That fast was lockt; but key found not at all
Amongst that bunch to open it withal;
But in the same a little grate was pight,
Through which he sent his voice, and loud did
call

With all his pow'r, to weet if living wight Were housed therewithin, whom he enlargen might.

Therewith a hollow, dreary, murmuring voice These piteous plaints and dolours did resound; "O! who is that, which brings me happy choice Of death, that here lie dying every stound, Yet live perforce in baleful darkness bound? For now three moons have changed thrice their | hue, [ground, And have been thrice hid underneath the Since I the heaven's cheerful face did view: O welcome, thou, that dost of death bring tidings true!"

Which when that champion heard, with piercing point

Of pity dear his heart was thrilled sore; And trembling horror ran through every joint, For ruth of gentle knight so foul forlore: Which shaking off, he rent that iron door With furious force and indignation fell; Where enter'd in, his foot could find no floor, But all a steep descent, as dark as hell, That breathéd ever forth a filthy baneful smell.

But neither darkness foul, nor filthy bands, Nor noyous smell, his purpose could withhold, (Entire affection 1 hateth nicer hands,) But that with constant zeal and courage bold, After long pains and labors manifold, He found the means that pris'ner up to rear; Whose feeble thighs, unable to uphold His pinéd corse, him scarce to light could bear; A rueful spectacle of death and ghastly drere.

His sad dull eyes, deep sunk in hollow pits, Could not endure th' unwonted sun to view; His bare thin cheeks for want of better bits, And empty sides deceivéd of their due, Could make a stoney heart his hap to rue; His rawbone arms, whose mighty brawnéd bowrs [hew, Were wont to rive steel plates, and helmets Were clean consum'd; and all his vital pow'rs Decay'd; and all his flesh shrunk up like wither'd flow'rs.

"But welcome now, my lord, in weal or woe; Whose presence I have lackt too long a day: And fie on Fortune, mine avowéd foe, [allay; Whose wrathful wreakes themselves do now And for these wrongs shall treble penance pay Of treble good: good grows of evil's priefe.' The cheerless man, whom sorrow did dismay, Had no delight to treaten of his grief; His long enduréd famine needed more relief.

"Fair lady," then said that victorious knight, "The things, that grievous were to do, or bear, Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight; Best music breeds dislike in loathing ear: But th' only good, that grows of passéd fear, Is to be wise, and ware of like again. This day's ensample hath this lesson dear Deep written in my heart with iron pen, That bliss may not abide in state of mortal men.

'Henceforth, Sir Knight, take to you wonted strength,

And master these mishaps with patient might: Lo, where your foe lies stretcht in monstrous length;

And lo, that wicked woman in your sight, The root of all your care and wretched plight, Now in your pow'r, to let her live, or die." "To do her die," quoth Una, "were despite, And shame t' avenge so weak an enemy; But spoil her of her scarlet robe, and let her fly."

So, as she bade, that witch they disarray'd, And robb'd of royal robes, and purple pall, And ornaments that richly were display'd; Ne spared they to strip her naked all. Then, when they had despoil'd her tire and caul, Such, as she was, their eyes might her behold, That her misshapéd parts did them appall; A loathly, wrinkled hag, ill favor'd, old, [told. Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be

Her crafty head was altogether bald, And, as in hate of honorable eld, Was overgrown with scurf and filthy scald; Her teeth out of her rotten gums were feld, And her sour breath abominably smell'd; Her driéd dugs, like bladders lacking wind, Hung down, and filthy matter from them well'd; Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind, So scabby was, that would have loath'd all woman kind.

Her nether parts, the shame of all her kind, My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write: But at her rump she growing had behind A fox's tail, with dung all foully dight: And eke her feet most monstrous were in sight; For one of them was like an eagle's claw, With griping talons arm'd to greedy fight; The other like a bear's uneven paw: More ugly shape yet never living creature saw.

Which when the knights beheld, amaz'd they

were,

And wonder'd at so foul deformed wight. "Such then," said Una, " as she seemeth here, Such is the face of Falsehood; such the sight

2 Proof.

Of foul Duessa, when her borrow'd light
Is laid away, and counterfesaunce known."
Thus when they had the witch disrobéd quite,
And all her filthy feature open shown,
They let her go at will, and wander ways unknown.

She, flying fast from heaven's hated face,
And from the world that her discover'd wide,
Fled to the wasteful wilderness apace,
From living eyes her open shame to hide;
And lurkt in rocks and caves, long unespied.
But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,
Did in that castle afterwards abide,

To rest themselves, and weary pow'rs repair: Where store they found of all, that dainty was and

rare.

CANTO IX.

His loves and lineage Arthur tells:
The knights knit friendly bands:
Sir Trevisan flies from Despair,
Whom Redcross Knight withstands.

O! GOODLY golden chain, wherewith yfere The virtues linkéd are in lovely wise; And noble minds of yore alliéd were, In brave pursuit of chivalrous emprize, That none did other's safety despize, Nor aid envý to him, in need that stands; But friendly each did other's praise devize, How to advance with favorable hands, As this good prince redeem'd the Redcross Knight from bands.

Who when their pow'rs, impair'd through labor long,

With due repast they had recuréd well, And that weak captive wight now waxéd strong; Them list no longer there at leisure dwell, But forward fare, as their adventures fell: But, ere they parted, Una fair besought That stranger knight his name and nation tell; Lest so great good, as he for her had wrought, Should die unknown, and buried be in thankless thought.

"Fair virgin," said the prince, "ye me require A thing without the compass of my wit: For both the lineage, and the certain sire, From which I sprung, from me are hidden yet. For all so soon as life did me admit Into this world, and showéd heaven's light, From mother's pap I taken was unfit, And straight deliver'd to a Faery knight, To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martial might.

"Unto old Timon he me brought bylive; Old Timon, who in youthly years hath been In warlike feats th' expertest man alive, And is the wisest now on earth I ween: His dwelling is, low in a valley green, Under the foot of Rauran 2 mossy hoar, From whence the river Dee, as silver clean, His tumbling billows rolls with gentle roar; There all my days he train'd me up in virtuous lore.

1 Timon" means honor.

2 Rauran Vaur" is a hill in Merionethshire.

"Thither the great magician Merlin came,
As was his use, ofttimes to visit me;
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And tutor's nouriture to oversee.
Him oft and oft I askt in privity,

Of what loins and what lineage I did spring.
Whose answer bade me still assuréd be,
That I was son and heir unto a king,

As time in her just term the truth to light should bring."

"Well worthy imp," said then the lady gent, "And pupil fit for such a tutor's hand! But what adventure, or what high intent, Hath brought you hither into Faery land, Aread, Prince Arthur, crown of martial band?" "Full hard it is," quoth he, "to read aright The course of heavenly cause, or understand The secret meaning of th' Eternal Might, That rules men's ways, and rules the thoughts of living wight.

"For whether He, through fatal deep foresight, Me hither sent, for cause to me unguest; Or that fresh bleeding wound which day and night

Whilome doth rankle in my riven breast, With forced fury following his behest, Me hither brought by ways yet never found; You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest." "Ah! courteous knight," quoth she, "what secret wound [ground? Could ever find to grieve the gentlest heart on

"Dear dame," quoth he, "you sleeping sparks awake, [grow; Which, troubled once, into huge flames will Ne ever will their fervent fury slake, Till living moisture into smoke do flow, And wasted life do lie in ashes low. Yet sithens silence less'neth not my fire, But, told, it flames; and, hidden, it does glow; I will reveal what ye so much desire: Ah! Love, lay down thy bow, the whiles I may respire.

"It was in freshest flow'r of youthly years, When courage first does creep in manly chest; Then first that coal of kindly heat appears To kindle love in every living breast: But me had warn'd old Timon's wise behest, Those creeping flames by reason to subdue, Before their rage grew to so great unrest, As miserable lovers use to rue, Which still wax old in woe, whiles woe still waxeth

"That idle name of love, and lover's life, As loss of time, and virtue's enemy,

[new.

I ever scorn'd, and joy'd to stir up strife, In middest of their mournful tragedy; Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry, And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent: Their god himself, griev'd at my liberty, Shot many a dart at me with fierce intent; But I them warded all with wary government.

"But all in vain; no fort can be so strong, Ne fleshly breast can arméd be so sound, But will at last be won with batt'ry long, Or unawares at disadvantage found:

Nothing is sure that grows on earthly ground. And who most trusts in arm of fleshly might, And boasts in beauty's chain not to be bound, Doth soonest fall in disavent'rous fight, And yields his captive neck to victor's most despight.

"Ensample make of him your hapless joy, And of myself now mated, as ye see; Whose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy Did soon pluck down, and curb'd my liberty. For on a day, prickt forth with jollity Of looser life and heat of hardiment, Ranging the forest wide on courser free, [sent, The fields, the floods, the heav'ns, with one conDid seem to laugh on me, and favor mine intent.

"Forwearied with my sports, I did alight From lofty steed, and down to sleep me laid: The verdant grass my couch did goodly dight, And pillow was my helmet fair display'd: Whiles every sense the humor sweet embayd, And slumb'ring soft my heart did steal away, Me seeméd, by my side a royal maid

Her dainty limbs full softly down did lay; So fair a creature yet saw never sunny day.

"Most goodly glee and lovely blandishment She to me made, and bade me love her dear; For dearly sure her love was to me bent, As, when just time expiréd, should appear. But, whether dreams delude, or true it were, Was never heart so ravisht with delight, Ne living man like words did ever hear, As she to me deliver'd all that night; [hight. And at her parting said, she Queen of Faeries

So diversly discoursing of their loves,
The golden sun his glist'ring head gan shew;
And sad remembrance now the prince amoves
With fresh desire his voyage to pursue:
Als Una yearn'd her travel to renew:
Then those two knights, fast friendship for to
bind,

And love establish each to other true,
Gave goodly gifts, the signs of grateful mind,
And eke, as pledges firm, right hands together
join'd.

Prince Arthur gave a box of diamond sure, Embow'd with gold and gorgeous ornament, Wherein were closed few drops of liquor pure, Of wondrous worth, and virtue excellent, That any wound could heal incontinent. Which to requite, the Redcross Knight him

gave

A book, wherein his Saviour's Testament Was writ with golden letters rich and brave; A work of wondrous grace, and able souls to

save.

Thus been they parted; Arthur on his way To seek his love, and th' other for to fight With Una's foe, that all her realms did prey. But she, now weighing the decayed plight And shrunken sinews of her chosen Knight, Would not a while her forward course pursue, Ne bring him forth in face of dreadful fight, Till he recover'd had his former hue:

For him to be yet weak and weary well she knew.

So as they travell'd, lo! they gan espy An arméd knight towards them gallop fast, That seemed from some fearéd foe to fly, Or other grisly thing, that him aghast. Still, as he fled, his eye was backward cast, As if his fear still follow'd him behind: Als flew his steed, as he his bands had brast, And with his wingéd heels did tread the wind, As he had been a foal of Pegasus his kind.

Nigh as he drew, they might perceive his head To be unarm'd, and curl'd uncombed hairs Upstaring stiff, dismay'd with uncouth dread: Nor drop of blood in all his face appears, Nor life in limb; and, to increase his fears, In foul reproach of knighthood's fair degree, About his neck an hempen rope he wears, That with his glist'ring arms does ill agree: But he of rope, or arms, has now no memory.

The Redcross Knight toward him crosséd fast, To weet what mister wight was so dismay'd: There him he finds all senseless and aghast, That of himself he seem'd to be afraid; Whom hardly he from flying forward stay'd, Till he these words to him deliver might; "Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus array'd, And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight? For never knight I saw in such misseeming plight."

He answer'd naught at all; but adding new Fear to his first amazement, staring wide With stoney eyes and heartless hollow hue, Astonisht stood, as one that had espied

Infernal Furies with their chains untied. Him yet again, and yet again, bespake The gentle Knight; who naught to him replied; But, trembling every joint, did inly quake, And falt'ring tongue at last these words seem'd forth to shake;

"For God's dear love, Sir Knight, do me not stay;

For lo! he comes, he comes fast after me!" Eft looking back would fain have run away; But he him forc'd to stay, and tellen free The secret cause of his perplexity: Yet nathëmore by his bold hearty speech Could his blood-frozen heart embolden'd be, But through his boldness rather fear did reach; Yet forc'd, at last he made through silence sud. den breach:

"And am I now in safety sure," quoth he, "From him, that would have forced me to die? And is the point of death now turn'd fro me, That I may tell this hapless history?" [nigh." "Fear naught," quoth he, "no danger now is "Then shall I you recount a rueful case," Said he, "the which with this unlucky eye I late beheld; and, had not greater grace Me reft from it, had been partaker of the place.

"I lately chanc'd (would I had never chanc'd!) With a fair knight to keepen company, Sir Terwin hight, that well himself advanc'd In all affairs, and was both bold and free; But not so happy as mote happy be: He lov'd as was his lot a lady gent, That him again lov'd in the least degree; For she was proud, and of too high intent, And joy'd to see her lover languish and lament:

"From whom returning sad and comfortless, As on the way together we did fare, We met that villain, (God from him me bless!) That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whylere, A man of hell, that calls himself Despair: Who first us greets, and after fair areedes Of tidings strange, and of adventures rare : So creeping close, as snake in hidden weeds, Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deeds.

"Which when he knew, and felt our feeble hearts,

Embost with bale, and bitter biting grief, Which love had lancéd with his deadly darts; With wounding words, and terms of foul reprief, He pluckt from us all hope of due relief, That erst us held in love of ling'ring life: Then hopeless, heartless, gan the cunning thief Persuade us die, to stint all farther strife; To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife:

"With which sad instrument of hasty death, That woeful lover, loathing longer light, A wide way made to let forth living breath. But I, more fearful, or more lucky wight, Dismay'd with that deforméd dismal sight, Fled fast away, half dead with dying fear; Ne yet assur'd of life by you, Sir Knight, Whose like infirmity like chance may bear: But God you never let his charméd speeches hear!"

"How may a man," said he, "with idle speech Be won to spoil the castle of his health?" "I wote," quoth he, "whom trial late did teach, That like would not for all this worldës wealth. His subtle tongue, like dropping honey, melt'h Into the heart, and searcheth every vein; That, ere one be aware, by secret stealth His pow'r is reft, and weakness doth remain. O never, sir, desire to try his guileful traine!"

"Certes," said he, "hence shall I never rest, Till I that treachour's art have heard and tried: [quest, And you, Sir Knight, whose name mote I reOf grace do me unto his cabin guide." "I, that hight Trevisan," quoth he, "will ride, Against my liking, back to do you grace: But not for gold nor glee will I abide

By you, when ye arrive in that same place; For liever had I die than see his deadly face."