Shee turning backe, with ruefull countenaunce, Cride, "Mercy, mercy, Sir, vouchsafe to show On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce, And to your mighty will." Her humblesse low In so ritch weedes, and seeming glorious show, Did much emmove his stout heroicke heart; And said, "Deare dame, your suddein overthrow Much rueth me; but now put feare apart, And tel, both who ye be, and who that tooke part."
Melting in teares, then gan shee thus lament; "The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre Hath now made thrall to your commandement, Before that angry heavens list to lowre,
And fortune false betraide me to your powre, Was, (O what now availeth that I was!) Borne the sole daughter of an emperour; He that the wide west under his rule has, And high hath set his throne where Tiberis doth pas.
He, in the first flowre of my freshest age, Betrothed me unto the onely haire Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage; Was never prince so faithfull and so faire, Was never prince so meeke and debonaire ! But, ere my hoped day of spousall shone, My dearest lord fell from high honors staire Into the hands of hys accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine; that shall I ever mone!
"His blessed body, spoild of lively breath, Was afterward, I know not how, convaid, And fro me hid; of whose most innocent death When tidings came to mee unhappy maid, O, how great sorrow my sad soule assaid! Then forth I went his woefull corse to find, And many yeares throughout the world I straid, A virgin widow; whose deepe-wounded mind With love long time did languish, as the striken hind.
"At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin To meete me wandring; who perforce me led With him away; but yet could never win The fort, that ladies hold in soveraigne dread. There lies he now with foule dishonor dead, Who, whiles he livde, was called proud Sansfoy, The eldest of three brethren; all three bred Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sansioy; And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sansloy.
"In this sad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate, Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you, in pitty of my state, To doe none ill, if please ye not doe well." He in great passion all this while did dwell, More busying his quicke eies, her face to view, Then his dull eares, to heare what shee did tell ; And said, "Faire lady, hart of flint would rew The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.
"Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, Having both found a new friend you to aid, And lost an old foe that did you molest: · Better new friend then an old foe is said." With chaunge of chear the seeming-simple maid Let fal her eien, as shamefast, to the earth, And yeelding soft, in that she nought gainsaid. So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth, And shee coy lookes: so dainty, they say, maketh derth.
Long time they thus together traveiled; Til, weary of their way, they came at last Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast; And their greene leaves, trembling with every blast, Made a calme shadowe far in compasse round: The fearefull shepheard, often there aghast, Under them never sat, ne wont there sound His mery oaten pipe; but shund th' unlucky ground.
But this good Knight, soone as he them can spie, For the coole slade him thither hastly got: For golden Phoebus, now ymounted hie, From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot, That living creature mote it not abide; And his new Lady it endured not. There they alight, in hope themselves to hide From the fierce heat, and rest their weary
Faire-seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, With goodly purposes, there as they sit; And in his falsed fancy he her takes To be the fairest wight, that lived yit; Which to expresse, he bends his gentle wit; And, thinking of those braunches greene to frame A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough; out of whose rifte there came Smal drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the
Therewith a piteous yelling voice was heard, Crying, "O spare with guilty hands to teare My tender sides in this rough rynd embard; But fly, ah! fly far hence away, for feare Least to you hap, that happened to me heare, And to this wretched Lady, my deare love; O too deare love, love bought with death too deare!" Astond he stood, and up his heare did hove; And with that suddein horror could no member
At last whenas the dreadfull passion
Was overpast, and manhood well awake; Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake; "What voice of damned ghost from Limbo lake, Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire, (Both which fraile men doe oftentimes mistake,) Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare, And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse blood to spare?"
Then, groning deep; "Nor damned ghost," quoth he,
"Nor guileful sprite, to thee these words doth But once a man Fradubio, now a tree; [speake; Wretched man, wretched tree! whose nature weake A cruell Witch, her cursed will to wreake, Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines, Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, And scorching sunne does dry my secret vaines; For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines."
Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree," Quoth then the Knight; "by whose mishiévous arts Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see? He oft finds med'cine who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts; As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.' "The author then," said he, "of all my smarts, Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse,
That many errant Knights hath broght to wretchednesse.
"In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hott The fire of love and ioy of chevalree First kindled in my brest, it was my lott To love this gentle Lady, whome ye see Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree; With whome as once I rode accompanyde, Me chaunced of a Knight encountred bee, That had a like faire Lady by his syde; Lyke a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde;
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