Him booteth not refift, nor fuccour call, His bleeding heart is in the vengers hand, Who ftreight him rent in thoufand pieces fmall, And quite difmembred hath the thirsty land Drank up his life; his corfe left on the ftrand. His fearful friends wear out the woeful night, Ne dare to weep, nor feem to understand The heavy hap which on them is alight, Affraid, leaft to themselves the like mishappen might. XXI.
Now when broad day the world difcovered has, Up Una rofe, up rofe the Lyon eke,
And on their former journey forward pafs, In ways unknown, her wandring Knight to feek, With pains far paffing that long wandring Greek, That for his love refufed deitie;
Such were the labours of this Lady meek, Still feeking him, that from her ftill did fly, Then furtheft from her hope, when most she weened nigh. XXII.
Soon as the parted thence, the fearful twain, That blind old woman and her daughter dear, Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there flain, For anguish great they 'gan to rend their hair, And beat their breafts, and naked flesh to tear. And when they both had wept and waild their fill, Then forth they ran like two amazed Deer, Half mad through malice, and revenging will, To follow her, that was the caufer of their ill. XXIII.
Whom overtaking, they 'gan loudly bray, With hollow howling, and lamenting cry, Shamefully at her rayling all the way, And her accufing of dishonesty,
That was the flowre of faith and chastity; And still amidst her rayling, fhe did pray, That plagues, and mifchiefs, and long mifery Might fall on her, and follow all the way, And that in endless error fhe might ever stray. VOL. I.
But when the faw her prayers nought prevail, She back returned with some labour loft; And in the way, as fhe did weep and wail, A Knight her met in mighty arms emboft, Yet Knight was not for all his bragging boft, But fubtil Archimag, that Una fought
By trains into new troubles to have toft: Of that old woman tydings he befought, If that of fuch a Lady fhe could tellen ought. XXV.
There-with the 'gan her paffion to renew,
And cry, and curfe, and rail, and rend her hair, Saying, that harlot she too lately knew, That caus'd her fhed fo many a bitter tear, And fo forth told the story of her fear. Much feemed he to mone her hapless chance, And after, for that Lady did enquere ;
Which being taught, he forward 'gan advance His fair enchanted fteed, and eke his charmed lance. XXVI.
Ere long he came where Una travell'd flow,
And that wild champion waiting her befide: Whom feeing fuch, for dread he durft not show Himself too nigh at hand, but turned wide Unto an hill; from whence when the him spide By his like feeming fhield, her Knight by name She weend it was, and towards him 'gan ride: Approaching nigh, fhe wift it was the fame, And with fair fearful humblefs towards him fhe came. XXVII.
And weeping faid, ah my long lacked Lord, Where have yee been thus long out of my fight? Much feared I to have been quite abhord, Or ought have done that ye difpleafen might, That should as death unto my dear heart light: For fince mine eye your joyous fight did mifs, My chearful day is turn'd to chearless night, And eke my night of death the fhadow is; But welcome now my light, and fhining lamp of blifs,
He thereto meeting, faid, my dearest Dame, Far be it from your thought, and from my will, To think that Knighthood I fo much fhould fhame, As you to leave, that have me loved still, And chofe in Fairy court of meere good will, Where nobleft Knights were to be found on earth: The earth fhall fooner leave her kindly skill To bring forth fruit, and make eternal dearth, Than I leave you, my liefe, yborn of heavenly birth. XXIX.
And footh to fay, why I left you fo long Was for to feek adventure in ftrange place, Where Archimago faid a felon ftrong
To many Knights did daily work difgrace; But Knight he now fhall never more deface: Good cause of mine excufe; that mote ye please Well to accept and evermore embrace
My faithful fervice, that by land and feas
Have vow'd you to defend, now then your plaint appeafe., XXX.
His lovely words her feem'd due recompence Of all her paffed pains: one loving howre For many years of forrow can difpence: A dram of sweet is worth a pound of fowre: She has forgot, how many a woeful stowre For him the late endured; the fpeaks no more Of paft: true is, that true love hath no powre To looken back, his eyes be fixt before.
Before her stands her Knight, for whom the toyld fo fore. XXXI.
Much like, as when the beaten mariner,
That long hath wandred in the ocean wide, Oft fouft in fwelling Tethys faltifh tear, And long time having tand his tawney hide
With bluftring breath of heaven, that none can bide, And fcorching flames of fierce Orions hound, Soon as the port from far he has efpide, His chearful whistle merrily doth found,
And Nereus crowns with cups; his mates him pledge a
XXXII.
Such joy made Una, when her Knight fhe found; And eke th' enchanter joyous feemd no lefs Than the glad merchant that does view from ground His fhip far come from watry wilderness + He hurls out vows, and Neptune oft doth bless: So forth they paft, and all the way they spent Difcourfing of her dreadful late diftrefs;
In which he askt her what the Lyon ment: Who told, her all that fell in journey as fhe went. XXXIII.
They had not ridden far, when they might fee One pricking towards them with hafty heat, Full strongly arm'd, and on a courfer free That through his fierceness foamed all with fweat, And the fharp iron did for anger eat, When his hot rider fpur'd his chauffed fide; His look was ftern, and seemed still to threat Cruel revenge, which he in heart did hide, And on his fhield Sans-loy in bloody lines was dide.... XXXIV.
When nigh he drew unto this gentle pair,
And faw the red-crofs which the Knight did bear, He burnt in fire, and 'gan eft-foons prepare Himself to battle with his couched fpear. Loth was that other, and did faint through fear. To taste th' untryed dint of deadly feel; But yet his Lady did fo well him chear, That hope of new good hap he 'gan to feel; So bent his fpear, and fpurd his horfe with iron heel. XXXV.
But that proud Paynim forward came fo fierce, And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head fpear Through vainly croffed fhield he quite did pierce; And had his ftagg'ring fteed not fhrunk for fear, Through fhield and body eke he should him bear: Yet fo great was the puiffance of his pufh, That from his faddle quite he did him bear He tumbling rudely down to ground did rufh, And from his gored wound a Well of blood did gush.
Difmounting lightly from his lofty fteed, He to him lept, in mind to reave his life, And proudly faid, lo, there the worthy meed Of him that flew Sans-foy with bloody knife; Hence forth his ghoft, freed from repining ftrife, In peace may paffen over Lethe lake,
When mourning altars, purg'd with enemies life, The black infernal Furies doen aflake:
Life from Sans-foy thou tookft, Sans-loy fhall from thee take. XXXVII.
Therewith in hafte his helmet 'gan unlace, Till Una cryd, O hold that heavy hand, Dear Sir, whatever that thou be in place: Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquifht ftand Now at thy mercy mercy not withstand: For he is one the trueft Knight alive,
Though conquer'd now he lye on lowly land, And whilft him fortune favour'd, fair did thrive . In bloody field: therefore of life him not deprive. XXXVIII.
Her pitious words might not abate his rage; But rudely rending up his helmet, would Have flain him ftraight: but when he fees his age, And hoary head of Archimago old,
His hafty hand he doth amazed hold, And half afhamed, wondred at the fight:
For that old man well knew he, though untold, In charms and magick to have wondrous might, Ne ever wont in field, ne in round lifts to fight. XXXIX.
And faid, Why Archimago, lucklefs fire,
What do I fee? what hard mishap is this, That hath thee hither brought to tafte mine ire? Or thine the fault, or mine the error is, Instead of foe, to wound my friend amiss? He anfwer'd nought but in a trance ftill lay, And on thofe guileful dazed eyes of his The cloud of death did fit. Which doen away, He left him lying fo, ne would no longer stay.
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