Not one word more she said:
But breaking off the end for want of breath,
And fliding foft, as down to fleep her laid;
And ended all her woe in quiet death.
That feeing, good Sir Guyon, could uneath
From tears abftain; for grief his heart did grate:
And from fo heavy fight his head did wreath,
Accufing Fortune and too cruel Fate,
Which plunged had fair Lady in fo wretched state.
LVII.
Then turning to the Palmer, faid, Old fire,
Behold the image of mortality,
And feeble nature cloath'd with fleshly tire,
When raging paffion with fierce tyranny
Robs reafon of her due regality,
And makes it fervant to her bafeft part:
The strong it weakens with infirmity,
And with bold fury arms the weakest heart; [fmart. The ftrong, through pleasure fooneft fals, the weak through LVIII.
But temperance (faid he) with golden fquire
Betwixt them both can meafure out a mean,
Neither to melt in pleasures hot defire,
Nor fry in heartless grief and doleful teen.
Thrice happy man, who fares them both atween:
But fith this wretched woman overcome
Of anguish, rather than of crime hath been,
Referve her caufe to her eternal doom:
And in the mean, vouchfafe her honourable toomb.
LIX.
Palmer, (quoth he) death is an equal doom
To good and bad, the common Inn of reft,
But after death, the tryal is to come,
When best shall be to them that lived beft:
But, both alike, when death hath both fuppreft,
Religious reverence doth burial teen,
Which whofo wants, wants fo much of his reft:
For all fo great shame after death I ween,
As felf to dyen bad, unburid bad to been.
So both agree their bodies to engrave;
The great earth's womb they open to the sky, And with fad Cyprefs feemly it embrave Then covering with a clod their closed eye, They lay therein those corfes tenderly, And bid them fleep in everlasting peace, But ere they did their utmost obfequy, Sir Guyon, more affection to increase, Bynempt a facred vow, which none should aye release.
The dead Knights fword out of his fheath he drew,
With which he cut a lock of all their hair,
Which medling with their blood, and earth, he threw
Into the grave, and 'gan devoutly fwear:
Such and fuch evil God on Guyon rear,
And worfe and worfe young Orphan be thy pain,
If I, or thou, due vengeance do forbear,
Till guilty blood her guerdon do obtain :
So, fhedding many tears, they clos'd the earth again.
Babes bloody hands may not be cleans'd.
The Face of golden Mean:
Her Sifters two Extremities.
Strive her to banish clean.
Hus when Sir Guyon with his faithful guide
Had with due rites and dolorous lament
The end of their fad tragedy uptide,
The little babe up in his arms he hent;
Who with fweet pleafance and bold blandishment 'Gan fmile on them that rather ought to weep, As carelefs of his woe or innocent
Of that was doen, that ruth emperced deep
In that Knights heart, and words with bitter tears did steep. VOL. I
II.
Ah! lucklefs babe, born under cruel ftar,
And in dead parents baleful afhes bred,
Full little weeneft thou, what forrows are
Left thee for portion of thy livelihed,
Poor orphan, in the wide world scattered,
As budding branch rent from the native tree,
And throwen forth, till it be withered :
Such is the state of men: thus enter we
Into this life with woe, and end with mifery.
III.
Then soft himself inclining on his knee
Down to that Well, did in the water ween
(So love does loath difdainful nicety)
His guilty hands from bloody gore to clean. He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they been (For all his washing) cleaner. Still he ftrove, Yet ftill the little hands were bloody feen: The which him into great amazement drove, And into divers doubt his wavering wonder clove. IV.
He wift not whether blot of foul offence
Might not be purg'd with water nor with bath;
Or that high God in lieu of innocence,
Imprinted had that token of his wrath,
To fhew how fore blood-guiltiness he hat'th;
Or that the charm and venom, which they drunk,
Their blood with fecret filth infected hath,
Being diffused through the fenfeless trunk,
That through the great contagion direful deadly ftunk.
Whom thus at gaze the Palmer 'gan to bord
With goodly reafon and thus fair befpake:
Ye been right hard amated, gracious Lord,
And of your ignorance great marvel make,
Whiles caufe not well conceived ye mistake.
But know, that fecret vertues are infus'd
In every fountain, and in every lake,
Which who hath skill them rightly to have chus'd, To proof of paffing wonders hath full often us'd.
Of thofe, fome were fo from their fourse indew'd
By great dame nature, from whofe fruitful pap
Their Well-heads fpring, and are with moisture dewd;
Which feeds each living plant with liquid fap,
And fills with flowres fair Floras painted lap:
But other fome by gift of later grace,
Or by good prayers, or by other hap,
Had vertue pour'd into their waters bace,
And thenceforth were renown'd, and fought from place to
Such is this Well, wrought by occafion strange,
Which to her nymph befel. Upon a day,
As the the woods with bow and fhafts did range,
The heartless Hind, and Roebuck to dismay,
Dan Faunus chaunct to meet her by the way;
And kindling fire at her fair burning eye,
Inflamed was to follow beauties chace,
And chaced her that fast from him did flye;
As Hind from her, fo fhe fled from her enemy.
VIII.
At laft when failing breath began to faint,
And faw no means to fcape, of shame afraid,
She fate her down to weep for fore constraint,
And to Diana calling loud for aid,
Her dear befought, to let her die a maid.
The Goddess heard, and fuddain where fhe fate,
Welling out streams of tears, and quite difmay'd
With ftony fear of that rude ruftick mate,
Transform'd her to a ftone from ftedfaft virgins ftate.
IX.
Lo now fhe is that ftone; from whofe two heads
(As from two weeping eyes) fresh ftreams do flow,
Yet cold through fear, and old conceived dreads:
And yet the ftone her femblance feems to fhow,
Shapt like a maid, that fuch ye may her know;
And yet her vertues in her water bide:
For it is chafte and pure as pureft fnow,
Ne lets her waves with any filth be dy'd,
But ever (like her felf) unftained hath been try'd. '
From thence it comes that this babes bloody hand
May not be cleans'd with water of this Well:
Ne certes Sir, ftrive you it to withstand,
But let them ftill be bloody, as befell,
That they his mothers innocence may tell,
As fhe bequeath'd in her last teftament;
That as a facred fymbol it may dwell
. In her fons flefh, to mind revengement,
And be for all chafte Dames an endless monument.
XI.
He harkned to his reafon, and the child
Uptaking, to the Palmer gave to bear:
But his fad fathers arms with blood defil'd,
An heavy load himself did lightly rear,
And turning to that place, in which whylear
He left his lofty steed with golden fell,
And goodly gorgeous barbs, him found not there, -
By other accident that earft befel,
He is convay'd; but how, or where, here fits not tell.
XII.
Which when Sir Guyon faw, all were he wroth,
Yet algates mote he foft himself appeafe,
And fairly fare on foot, how ever loth;
His double burden did him fore difeafe.
So long they travelled with little ease,
Till that at laft they to a caftle came,
Built on a rock adjoyning to the feas;
It was an ancient work of antique fame,
And wondrous ftrong by nature, and by fkilful frame.
XIII.
Therein three fifters dwelt of fundry fort,
The children of one fire by mothers three;
Who dying whylome did divide this fort
To them by equal fhares in equal fee :
But ftrifeful mind, and diverfe qualitee
Drew them in parts, and each made others foe:
Still did they ftrive, and daily disagree;
The eldest did against the youngest goe,
And both against the middeft meant to worken woe.
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