His goodly reason, and well-guided speach,
So deepe did settle in her gracious thought,
That her perswaded to disclose the breach
Which love and fortune in her heart had wrought;
And said; "Faire sir, I hope good hap hath
brought
You to inquere the secrets of my griefe;
wisdome will direct my thought;
Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe ;
Then heare the story sad, which I shall tell you
"The forlorne Maiden, whom your eies have seene
The laughing stocke of Fortunes mockeries,
Am th' onely daughter of a king and queene,
Whose parents deare (whiles equal destinies
Did ronne about, and their felicities
The favourable heavens did not envy,)
Did spred their rule through all the territories,
Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by,
And Gehons golden waves doe wash continually:
"Till that their cruell cursed enemy,
An huge great Dragon, horrible in sight,
Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary,
With murdrous ravine, and devouring might, Their kingdome spoild, and country wasted quight:
Themselves, for feare into his iawes to fall,
He forst to castle strong to take their flight;
Where, fast embard in mighty brasen wall,
He has them now fowr years besiegd to make
them thrall.
"Full many Knights, adventurous and stout,
Have enterpriz❜d that Monster to subdew:
From every coast, that heaven walks about,
Have thither come the noble martial crew,
That famous harde atchievements still pursew;
Yet never any could that girlond win,
But all still shronke; and still he greater grew :
All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin,
The pitteous pray of his fiers cruelty have bin.
"At last, yled with far reported praise,
Which flying fame throughout the world had spred,
Of doughty Knights, whom Fary land did raise,
That noble order hight of Maidenhed,
Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped,
Of Gloriane, great queene of glory bright,
Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis is red;
There to obtaine some such redoubted Knight, That parents deare from tyrants powre deliver might.
"Yt was my chaunce (my chaunce was faire and good)
There for to find a fresh unproved Knight;
Whose manly hands imbrewd in guilty blood
Had never beene, ne ever by his might
Had throwne to ground the unregarded right:
Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made
(I witnes am) in many a cruell fight;
The groning ghosts of many one dismaide
Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging blade.
"And ye, the forlorne reliques of his powre,
His biting sword, and his devouring speare,
Which have endured many a dreadfull stowre,
Can speake his prowesse, that did earst you beare,
And well could rule; now he hath left you heare
To be the record of his ruefull losse,
And of my dolefull disaventurous deare:
O heavie record of the good Redcrosse,
Where have yee left your lord, that could so well
you tosse?
"Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had,
That he my captive languor should redeeme:
Till all unweeting an Enchaunter bad
His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme
My loyalty, not such as it did seeme,
That rather death desire then such despight.
Be iudge, ye heavens, that all things right esteeme,
How I him lov'd, and love with all my might!
So thought I eke of him, and think I thought
aright.
"Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke,
To wander, where wilde Fortune would me lead,
And other bywaies he himselfe betooke,
Where never foote of living wight did tread,
That brought not backe the balefull body dead;
In which him chaunced false Duessa meete,
Mine only foe, mine onely deadly dread;
Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming sweete,
Inveigled him to follow her desires unmeete,
"At last, by subtile sleights she him betraid
Unto his foe, a Gyaunt huge and tall;
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,
Unwares surprised, and with mighty mall
The monster mercilesse him made to fall,
Whose fall did never foe before behold:
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Remédilesse, for aie he doth him hold:
This is my cause of griefe, more great then may be told."
Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint:
But he her comforted, and faire bespake;
"Certes, Madáme, ye have great cause of plaint,
That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take;
For, till I have acquit your captive Knight,
Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake."
His chearefull words reviv'd her chearelesse
So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding ever right.
Faire Virgin, to redeeme her deare,
Brings Arthure to the fight:
Who slayes the Gyaunt, wounds the Beast,
And strips Duessa quight.
Ay me, how many perils doe enfold
The righteous man, to make him daily fall,
Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold,
And stedfast Truth acquite him out of all!
Her love is firme, her care continuall,
So oft as he, through his own foolish pride
Or weaknes, is to sinfull bands made thrall:
Els should this Redcrosse Knight in bands have
For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thether
They sadly traveild thus, untill they came
Nigh to a castle builded strong and hye:
Then cryde the Dwarfe, "Lo! yonder is the same,
In which my Lord, my Liege, doth lucklesse ly
Thrall to that Gyaunts hatefull tyranny:
Therefore, deare sir, your mightie powres assay."
The noble Knight alighted by and by
From loftie steed, and badd the Ladie stay,
To see what end of fight should him befall that day.
|