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Still'as he stood, fair Phadria, that beheld

That deadly danger foon atween them ran;
And at their feer her self most humbly, feld, 1
Crying with pitious voice, and count'nance wan;
Ah weal-away! molt noble Lords, how can
Your cruel eyes endure so pitious fight,
To shed your lives on ground? woe worth the man,

That first did teach the cursed steel to bire
In his own flesh, and make way to the living sprite. :-

If ever love of Lady did empierce's

Your iron breasts, or pity, could find place,
Withhold your bloody hands-from battle fierce,
And fith for me ye fight, to me this grace
Both yield, to stay your deadly ftrife a space. i.?
They stayd a while ; and forth she'gan proceed:
Most wretched woman, and of wicked race, .

That am the author of this heinous deed,
And cause of death between two doughty Knightsdobreed.

But if for me ye fight, or me will serve,

Not this rude kind of battle, nor thefe arms - 1
Are meet, the which do men in bale to ftetve,
And doleful forrow heap with deadly harms:
Such cruel game my scarmoges disarms:
Another war, and other weapons I ! 7.13
Do love, where Love does give his sweet alarms,
Withour bloodlhed, and where the

enemy Does yield unto his foe a pleasant victory.

:D XXXV. Debateful strife, and cruel enmity 1

The famous name of Knighthood fouly shend;
But lovely peace, and gentle amity,
And in amours che palling hours to fpend,
The mighty martial hands do most commend;
Of love they ever greater glory bore,
Than of their arms : Mars is Cupidos friend, 3

And is for Venus loves renowned more
Than all his wars and spoils, the which he did of yore.

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Therewith she sweetly fmild. They though full bent

To prove extremities of bloody fight,
Yet at her speech their rages 'gan relent,
And calm the sea of their tempestuous (pight;
Such powre have pleasing words: such is the might
Of courteous clemency in gentle heart.
Now after all was ceaft, the Fairy Knight

Besought that Dam zel suffer him depart,
And yield him ready passage to that other part,

She no less glad, than he desirous was

Of his departure thence; for of her joy
And vain delight she saw he light did pass,
A foe of folly and immodest roy,
Still folemn sad, or ftill disdainful coy,
Delighting all in arms and cruel war,
That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy,

Troubled with terrour and unquiet jar,
That she well pleased was thence to amove him far.

Tho him she brought abord, and her swift boat

Forthwith directed to that further strand,
The which on the dull waves did lightly float,
And soon arrived on the shallow fand,
Where gladsome Guyon sallied forth to land,
And to that Damzel thanks gave for reward.
Upon that shore he spied Atin stand,

There by his master left, when late he far'd
In Phedrias fit bark over that perlous (hard,

Well could he him remember, fith of late

He with Pyrocbles sharp debatement made ,
Streight 'gan he him revile, and bitter rate,
As shepherds cur, that in dark evenings shade
Hath tracted forth some salvage beaftës treade ;
Vile miscreant (said he) whither dost thou fly
The shame and death, which will thee foon invade?

What coward hand shall do thee next to dye,
That art thus fouly fled from famous enemy?

With that, he stifly Ihook his steel-head dart :

But sober Guyon, hearing him so rail,
Though somewhat moved in his mighty heart,
Yet with strong reason maistred passion frail,
And passed fairly forth. He turning tail,
Back to the strond retyr'd, and there still staid,
Awaiting passage, which him late did fail;

The whiles Cymachles with that wanton maid
The hafty heat of his avow'd revenge delayd.

Whiles there the varlet stood, he saw from far

An armed Knight, that towards him fast ran:
He ran on foot, as if in luckless war
His forlorn steed from him the victour won;
He seemed breathless, heartless, faint, and wan,
And all his armour sprinkled was with blood,
And foyld with dirty gore, that no man can

Discern the hew thereof. He never stood,
But bent his halty course towards the idle flood.

The varlet faw, when to the flood he came,

How without stop or stay he fiercely lept,
And deep himself beducked in the same.
That in the lake his lofty crest was steeps, :
Ne of his fafety szemed care he kept;
But with his raging arms he rudely Aasht
The waves about, and all his armour swept,

That all the blood and filth away was washt,
Yer still he beat the water, and the billows dasht.

Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote be ;

For, much he wondred at that uncouth fight;
Whom should he, but his own dear Lord, there fee?
His own dear Lord Pyrochles, in sad plight,
Ready to drown himself for fell despight.
Harrow now out, and weal-away, he cryde,
What dismal day hath lent this cursed light,

To see my Lord so deadly damnifide ?
Pyrechless o Pyrocbles, what is theç betyde?

I burn, I burn, I burn, then loud he cryde :

O how I burn with implacable fire !
Yet nought can quench mine inly Aaming side, !
Nor sea of liquor cold, nor lake of mire,
Nothing but death can do me to respire.
Ah be it (said he) from Pyrochles far
After pursewing death once to require,

Or think, that ought those puissant hands may mar: Death is for wretches born under unhappy ftar,

Perdie, 'then is it fit for me (faid he)

That am, I ween, most wretched man alive:
Burning in flames, yet no flames can I fee,
And dying daily, daily yet revive:
O Atin, help to me last death to give.
The varlet at his plaint was griev'd fo fore,
That his deep wounded heart in two did rive,

And his own health remembring now no more,
Did follow that ensample which he blam'd afore.

Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd,

(So love the dread of danger doth despise)
And of him catching hold, him strongly stayd
From drowning. But more happy he, than wise,
Of that feas nature did him not avise.
The waves thereof fo flow and sluggish 'were,
Engrost with mud, which did them foul agrise,

That every weighty thing they did upbear,
Ne ought mote ever sink down to the bottom there.

Whiles thus they struggled in that idle wave,

And Itrove in vain, the one himself to drown,
The other both from drowning for to save;
Lo to that shore one in an ancient gown,
Whose hoary locks great gravity,
Holding in hand a goodly arming sword,
By fortune came, led with the troublous sown:
Where drenched deep he found in that dull ford
The careful servant, striving with his raging Lord.

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Him Atin spying, knew right well of yore,

And loudly calld, Help help, Q. Archimage,
To save my Lord; in wretched plight forlore;
Help with thy hạnd, or with thy counsel fage :
Weak hands, but counsel is most strong in age.
Him when the old man faw, he wondred fore,
To see Pyrocbles there so rudely rage :

Yet sithens help, he saw, he needed more
Than pity, he in haste approached to the shore.

And call’d: Pyrochles, what is this, I see?

What hellish fury hath at earst thee hent?
Furious ever I thee knew to be,

Yet never in this strange astonishment.
These flames, these flames (he cryde) do me tormént.

What fames (quoth he) when I thee present fee,
In danger rather to be drènt, than brent?

Harrow, the fames, which me consume (said he)
Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowels be.

That cursed man, that cruel fiend of hell,

Furor, O Furor, hath me thus bedight :
His deadly wounds within my liver swell,
And his hot fire burns in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through his infernal brond of spight;
Sith late with him I battle vain would boast;
That now I ween Joves dreaded thunder-light

Does scorch not half so sore, nor damned ghost
In flaming Pblegeton does not so felly roast.

Which whenas Archimago heard his grief

He knew right well, and him atconce 'difarmd:
Then searcht his secret wounds, and made a prief
Of every place, that was with bruising harmd,
Or with the hidden fire too iniy warmd.
Which done, he balms and herbs thereto apply'd,
And evermore with mighty spells them charmd,

That in short fpace he has them qualifide,
And him restor’d to health, that would have algates dyde.

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