His louesloves and lignage Arthure tells
the knights knitt friendly bandshands:
Sir TreuisanTrevisan flies from Despeyre,
Whom Redcros knight withstands.
O GoodlyO goodly golden chayne, wherewith yfere
The vertues linked are in louelylovely wize:
And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
In brauebrave poursuitt of cheualrouschevalrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid enuyenvy to him, in need that stands,
But friendly each did others praise deuizedevize,
How to aduaunceadvaunce with fauourablefavourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the
Redcrosse knight from
Who when their powres empayrd through
With dew repast they had recured well,
And that weake captiuecaptive wight now wexed strong,
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their aduenturesadventures fell,
But ere they parted, VnaUna faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die vnknownunknown, &and buried be in thankles thought.
Faire virgin (said the Prince) yee me
A thing without the compas of my witt:
For both the lignage and the certein Sire,
From which I sprong, from meeme:mee: are hidden yitt.
For all so soone as life did me admitt
Into this world, and shewed heuens light,
From mothers pap I taken was vnfittunfitt:
And streight deliuereddelivered to a Fary knight,
To be vpbroughtupbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.
VntoUnto old Timon he me brought byliuebylive,
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares
In warlike feates th’expertest man aliuealive,
And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
VnderUnder the foot of Rauran mossy hore,
From whence the riuerriver
Dee as siluersilver cleene
His tombling billowesdillowesbillowes rolls with gentle rore:
There all my daies he traind mee vpup in vertuous lore.
Thether the great magicien Merlin came,
As was his vseuse, ofttimes to visitt mee
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And Tutors nouriture to ouerseeoversee.
Him oft and oft I askt in priuityprivity,
Of what loines and what lignage I did spring.
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
That I was sonne and heire vntounto a king,
As time in her iustjust term the truth to light should bring.
Well worthy impe, said then the Lady
And Pupill fitt for such a Tutors hand.
But what aduentureadventure, or what high intent
Hath brought you hether into Fary land,
Aread Prince Arthure, crowne of Martiall band?
Full hard it is (qd.quoth he) to
The course of heauenlyheavenly cause, or vnderstandunderstand
The secret meaning of th’eternall might,
That rules mens waies, and rules the
thoughts of liuingliving
For whether he through fatal deepe
Me hither sent, for cause to me vnghestunghest,
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riuenriven brest,
With forced fury following his behest,
Me hether brought by wayes yet neuernever found,
You to hauehave helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.
Ah courteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound
Could euerever find, to grieuegrieve the gentlest hart on ground?
Deare Dame (quoth he) you sleeping
Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,
Ne euerever will their feruentfervent fury slake,
Till liuingliving moysture into smoke do flow,
And wasted life doe lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow,
I will reuelerevele, what ye so much desire:
Ah LoueLove, lay down thy bow, thethat whiles I may
It was in freshest flowre of youthly
When corage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first thatthe cole of kindly heat appeares
To kindle louelove in eueryevery
But me had warnd old
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great vnrestunrest,
As miserable louerslovers
vseuse to rew,
Which still wex old in woe, whiles wo
stil wexeth new.
That ydle name of louelove, and louerslovers life,
As losse of time, and vertues enimy
I euerever scornd, and ioydjoyd to stirre vpup strife,
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy,
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:
Their God himselfe, grieudgrievd at my libertie,
Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent,
But I them warded all with wary gouernmentgovernment.
But all in vaine: no fort can be so
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sownd,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or vnawaresunawares at disauantagedisavantage fownd:
Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly grownd:
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boastes, in beauties chaine not to be bownd,
Doth soonest fall in disauentrousdisaventrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytiuecaytive neck to victours most despight.
Ensample make of him your haplesse ioyjoy,
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
Whose prouder vaunt that proud auengingavenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertee.
For on a day prickt forth with iolliteejollitee
Of looser life, and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heauensheavens with one consent
Did seeme to laugh onat me, and fauourfavour mine intent.
weariedFor-weariedFore-wearied with my sportes, I did alight
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmett fayre displayd:
Whiles eueryevery sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So fayre a creature yet saw neuernever sunny day.
Most goodly glee and louelylovely blandishment
She to me made, and badd me louelove her deare;deare,
For dearely sure her louelove was to me bent,
As when iustjust time expired should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was neuernever hart so rauishtravisht with delight,
Ne liuingliving man like wordes did euerever heare,
As she to me deliuereddelivered all that night;
And at her parting said, She Queene of
When I awoke, and found her place deuoyddevoyd,
And nought but pressed gras where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so much, as earst I ioydjoyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lou’dlov’d that face diuynedivyne;
From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd,
To seeke her out with labor, and long tyne,
And neuernever vowd to rest, till her I fynd,
Nyne monethes I seek in vain yet ni’ll
that vow vnbyndunbynd.
Thus as he spake, his visage wexed
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yett still he strouestrove to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke, that did his fire display,
Till gentle VnaUna thus to him gan say;
O happy Queene of Faries, that hast fownd
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confownd:
True LouesLoves are oftẽoften sown, but seldom grow on grownd
Thine, O then, said the gentle Redcrosse knight,
Next to that Ladies louelove, shalbe the place,
O fayrest virgin, full of heauenlyheavenly light,
Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,
Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthie grace:
For onely worthie you through prowes priefe
Yf liuingliving man mote worthie be, to be her liefe.
So diuerslydiversly discoursing of their louesloves,
The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
And sad remembraunce now the Prince amouesamoves,
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew:
Als VnaUna earnd her traueilltraveill to renew.
Then those two knights, fast frendship for to bynd,
And louelove establish each to other trew,
GaueGave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
And eke asthe pledges firme, right hands together ioyndjoynd.
gauegave a boxe of Diamond sure,
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament,
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure,
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wownd could heale incontinent:
Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gauegave
A booke, wherein histhis
Was writt with golden letters rich and brauebrave;
A worke of wondrous grace, and hable
soules to sauesave.
Thus beene they parted, Arthur on his way
To seeke his louelove, and th’other for to fight
VnaesUnaes foe, that all her realme did pray.
But she now weighing the decayed plight,
And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight,
Would not a while her forward course pursew,
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight,
Till he recoueredrecovered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well
So as they traueildtraveild, lo they gan espy
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing, that him aghast.
Still as he fledd, his eye was backward cast,
As if his feare still followed him behynd;
Als flew his steed, as he his bandes had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wynd,
As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his kynd.
Nigh as he drew, they might perceiueperceive his head
To bee vnarmdunarmd, and curld vncombeduncombed heares
VpstaringUpstaring stiffe, dismaid with vncouthuncouth dread;
Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares
Nor life in limbe: and to increase his feares,
In fowle reproch of knighthoodes fayre degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring armes does ill agree;
But he of rope or armes has now no
The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed
To weet, what mister wight was so dismayd:
There him he findes all sencelesse and aghast,
That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd,afrayd;afraid;
Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd,
Till he these wordes to him deliuerdeliver might;
Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight:
For neuernever knight I saw in such misseeming plight.
He answerd nought at all, but adding
Feare to his first amazment, staring wyde
With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspyde
Infernall furies, with their chaines vntydeuntyde.
Him yett againe, and yett againe bespake
The gentle knight,knight; who nought to him replyde,
But trembling eueryevery
ioyntjoynt did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at last these words
seemd forth to shake.
For Gods deare louelove, Sir knight, doe me not stay;
For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee.
Est looking back would faine hauehave runne away;
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secrete cause of his perplexitie,perplexitie:
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach,
Could his blood frosen hart emboldened bee,
But through his boldnes rather feare did reach,
Yett forst, at last he made through silẽcesilence suddein breach.
And am I now in safetie sure (quoth
From him, that would hauehave forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this haplesse history?
Feare nought: (quoth he) no daunger now is nye.nye?nie?
Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,
(Said he) the which with this vnluckyunlucky eye
I late beheld, and had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of
I lately chaunst (Would I had neuernever chaunst)
With a fayre knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well
In all affayres, and was both bold and free,
But not so happy as mote happy bee:
He lou’dlov’d, as was his lot, a Lady gent,
That him againe lou’dlov’d in the least degree:
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioydjoyd to see her louerlover languish and lament.
From whom retourning sad and
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen (God from him me blesse)
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that calls himselfe Despayre:
Who first vsus greets, and after fayre areedes
Of tydinges straunge, and of aduenturesadventures rare:
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which louelove had launched with his deadly darts,
With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe,
He pluckt from vsus all hope of dew reliefe,
That earst vsus held in louelove of lingring life;
Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade vsus dye, to stint all further strife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty
With which sad instrument of hasty
That wofull louerlover, loathing lenger light,
A wyde way made to let forth liuingliving breath.
But I more fearefull, or more lucky wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fledd fast away, halfe dead with dying feare;
Ne yet assur’d of life by you, Sir knight,
Whose like infirmity like chaunce may beare:
But God you neuernever let his charmed speaches heare.
How may a man (said he) with idle
Be wonne, to spoyle the Castle of his health?
I wote (quoth he) whom tryall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth:
His subtile tong, like dropping honny, mealt’h
Into the heart, and searcheth eueryevery vaine,
That ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft, and weaknes doth remaine.
O neuernever Sir desire to try his guilefull traine.
Certes (sayd he) hence shall I neuernever rest,
Till I that treachours art hauehave heard and tryde;
And you Sir knight, whose name mote I request,
Of grace do me vntounto his cabin guyde.
I that hight
TreuisanTrevisan (quoth he) will ryde
Against my liking backe, to doe you grace:
But nor for gold nor glee will I abyde
By you, when ye arriuearrive in that same place;
For leuerlever had I die, 32.9. then: thanthenthan see his deadly face.
Ere long they come, where that same
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cauecave,
Far vnderneathunderneath a craggy clift yplight,
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grauegrave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crauecrave:
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which euerever
Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
AndAud all about it wandring ghostes did wayle &and howle.
And all about old stockes and stubs of
Whereon nor fruite, nor leafe was euerever seene,
Did hang vponupon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattred on the greene,
And throwne about the clifts. ArriuedArrived there,
That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine hauehave fled, ne durst approchen neare,
But th’other forst him staye, and
comforted in feare.
That darkesome cauecave they enter, where they find
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind;
His griesie lockes, long growen, and vnboundunbound,
Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw-bone cheekes through penurie and pine,
WereWhere shronke into his iawesjawes, as he did neuernever dyne.
His garment nought but many ragged
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay vponupon the gras
A dreary corse, whose life away did pas,
All wallowd in his own yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rusty knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing
Which piteous spectacle, approuingapproving trew
The wofull tale, that Trevisan had
When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to auengeavenge, before his blood were cold,
And to the villein sayd, Thou damned wight,
The authour of this fact, we here behold,
What iusticejustice can but iudgejudge against thee right,
With thine owne blood to price his
blood, here shed in sight.
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to giuegive?
euerever other iudgementjudgement taught,
But he should dye, who merites not to liuelive?
None els to death this man despayring driuedrive,
But his owne guiltie mind deseruingdeserving death.
Is then vniustunjust to each his dew to giuegive?
Or let him dye, that loatheth
Or let him die at ease, that liuethliveth here vneathuneath?
Who trauailestravailes by the wearie wandring way,
To come vntounto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay,
Is not great grace to helpe him ouerover past,
Or free his feet, that in the myre sticke fast?
Most enuiousenvious man, that grieuesgrieves at neighbours good,
And fond, that ioyestjoyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood
VponUpon the bancke, yet wilt thy selfe not pas the flood?
He there does now enioyenjoy eternall rest
And happy ease, which thou doest want and crauecrave,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some little payne the passage hauehave,
That makes frayle flesh to feare the bitter wauewave?
Is not short payne well borne, that bringes long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grauegrave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does
The knight much wondred at his suddeine
And sayd, The terme of life is limitedlife
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not mouemove from watchfull sted,
Nor leaueleave his stand, vntilluntill his Captaine bed.
Who life did limit by almightie doome,
(Quoth he) knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of
Is not his deed, what euerever thing is donne,
In heauenheaven and earth? did not he all create,
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and hauehave their certein date.
Who then can striuestrive with strong necessitie,
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
WhẽWhen houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
The lenger life, I wote the greater
The greater sin, the greater punishment:
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and blood-shed, and auengementavengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and blood must blood repay.
Is not enough thy euillevill life forespent?
For he, that once hath missed the right way.
The further he doth goe, the further he
Then doe no further goe, no further
But here ly downe, and to thy rest betake,
Th’ill to preuentprevent, that life ensewen may.
For what hath life, that may it louedloved make,
And giuesgives not rather cause it to forsake?
Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife,
Payne, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;
And euerever fickle fortune rageth rife,
All which, and thousands mo do make a
Thou wretched man, of death hast
If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy state:
For neuernever knight, that dared warlike deed,
More luckless dissauenturesdissaventures did amate:
Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shutt vpup, for death so oft did call;
And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date,
Yet death then, would the like mishaps forestall,
Into the which heareafter thou maist
Why then doest thou, O man of sin,
To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree?
Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
High heaped vpup with huge iniquitee,
Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this Lady mild
hast thy faith with periureeperjuree,
And sold thy selfe to serueserve
With whom in al abuse thou hast thy
Is not he iustjust, that all this doth behold
From highest heuenheven, and beares
an equall eie?
Shall he thy sins vpup in his knowledge fold,
And guilty be of thine impietie?
Is not his lawe, Let eueryevery sinner die:
Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,
47.8. Then: ThanThenThan linger, till the glas be all out ronne?
Death is the end of woes: die soone, O
The knight was much enmouedenmoved with his speach,
That as a swords poynt through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secrete breach,
Well knowing trew all, that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembraunce did reuersereverse,
The vglyugly vew of his deformed crimes,
That all his manly powres it did disperse,
As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes,
That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted
In which amazement, when the
PerceiuedPerceived him to wauerwaver weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience daunt,
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile,
To driuedrive him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
Hee shewd him painted in a table plaine,
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile,
And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine
With fire and brimstone, which for euerever shall remaine.
The sight whereof so throughly him
That nought but death before his eies he saw,
And euerever burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th’Almighties law:
Then gan the villein him to ouercrawovercraw,
And brought vntounto him swords, ropes, poison, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire:
For death was dew to him, that had prouoktprovokt Gods ire.
But whenas none of them he saw him
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gauegave it him in hand: his hand did quake,
And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene,
And troubled blood through his pale face was seene
To come, and goe with tidings from the heart,
As it a ronning messenger had beene.
At last resolu’dresolv’d to worke his finall smart,
He lifted vpup his hand, that backe againe did start.
Which whenas VnaUna
sawheard, through eueryevery vaine
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but soone reliu’dreliv’d againe,
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him said, Fie fie, faint hearted knight,
What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?
Is this the battaile, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible
Come, come away, fraile, feeble
, fleshly wight,
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,
Ne diuelishdivelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.
In heauenlyheavenly mercies hast thou not a part?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Where iusticejustice growes, there grows eke greter grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.deface,deface:
Arise, Sir knight arise, and leaueleave this cursed place.
So vpup he rose, and thence amounted streight.
VVhichWhich when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
VVouldWould safe depart, for all his subtile sleight,
He chose an halter from among the rest,
And with it hong him selfe, vnbidunbid
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby;
For thousand times he so him selfe had drest,
Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die,
Till he should die his last, that is