Spencer Redivivus Containing the FIRST BOOK OF THE FAIRY QUEEN, His Essential Design preserved, but his obsolete Language and manner of Verse totally laid aside.  
Delivered in Heroic Numbers,  
By a Person of Quality.  
Licenced September 21. 1686. R. L'Estrange.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Chapman at the Surgeons Arms over against the upper Meuse Gate near Charing-Cross. 1687.   

THE PREFACE.  
THERE are few of our Nation that have heard of the Name of Spencer, but have granted him the repute of a famous Poet.  
But I must take leave to affirm, that the esteem which is generally allowed to his Poetical Abilities, has rather been from an implicit or received Concession, than a knowing Discernment paid to the Value of this Author: Whose Design, in his Books of the Fairy Queen, howsoever admirable, is so far from being familiarly perceptible in the Language he delivered it in, that his Style seems no less unintelligible at this Day, than the obsoletest of our English or Saxon Dialect.  
On which ground I believe it ought to have been long ago wished, as well as readily embraced, by all politely judicious, that something of this Eminent Poet had been genuinely and succinctly conveyed by the Purity of our Tongue.  
An Endeavour undertaken by me, supposing i● could not be less acceptable to others than myself By which I have not only discharged his antiquate▪ Verse and tedious Stanza, but have likewise delivered his Sense in Heroic Numbers: much mor● suitable to an Epic Poem, the deserved Denomination of his, than can possibly be accomplish'● by any sort of Measures in Stanza's, both in respect of their Freedom & Pleasure above any other Form that can be used in a Poem of this Nature.  
For as the Writing in Stanza's must rende● Verse sententious and constrained, the most weighty part of their meaning still being to be expecte● at the Period of the Stanza; so, in that consideration, their Composure must needs be less difficult than where the force of each single Line is to b● weighed apart. As who can judge, had Virgi● writ or been rendered by any alternate Meeter that either his design or expressions had appear'● so unconfin'dly elevate, as he is to be acknowledged in his own, or in such measures as should mos● resemble the unlimited nature and freedom proper to the greatness of his Subject.  
As for the essential Story of Spencer, contained in this one Book of his Fairy Queen: I hav● entirely preserved his Matter and Design, except where both are abreviated, and, as I conceive, improved by my Thoughts.  
Nor do I doubt but every impartial Reader will find, that in the way I have undertaken to delineate and express him by, he is rendered what he ought to have been instead of what is to be found in himself.  
Not that I believe, his Language being waved, any Poetical Genius, since the incomparable Virgil, has exceeded the wonderful Variety, Beauty, and Strength of Conception that is to be found in our famous Spencer.  
If we consider him as an extraordinary Inventor or Tale-teller, the main Engine and Fabric of Poesy, we shall find him more fruitfully new and delicate than any that have preceded him to the Age in which Virgil lived.  
The most esteemed of whose Successors, in the Heroic way, Statius and Tasso, have borrowed so much from their great Poetical Predecessor, that it may be said of them, as Scaliger does of Statius, that they had very probably been greater in themselves, had they not endeavoured to be like Virgil, whose Excellency was above all subsequent Imitation.  
Whereas the Compositions of our wonderful Spencer are not only purely created throughout his Works by his unallyed Invention, but varied in every Canto with such a singular Method, that he is granted, at this day, abating his Expressions and manner of Verse, to complete a distinct Original of Heroic Poesy.  
The late ingenious Sir William Dav'nant taking occasion in his Preface before his Gondibert to commend this Author, compares his Poem of the Fairy Queen to an admired Course of Poetica▪ Dreams and Ecstasies, or an Allegory of Things and Persons delivered from extraordinary Result of Imagination. And I conceive him so far in the right in his judicious esteem of this Poet, that, in his kind, perhaps he may remain perpetually unparallelled.  
Having thus far explained the Value and Form of this Author's Work, I will take leave to present my Reader with a Taste of what I judge the Essential Parts of Heroic Poesy.  
And this must consist either in Action or in Allegory, or rather in a mixture of both. As fo● Action as it relates to an Heroic Poem, or is exemplary from thence; its greatness chiefly consists in Military Deeds, Stratagems, and Counsels or in Political or Moral Reflections occasionally intervening. And these particulars, though grea● Embellishment of Epike Poetry, are seldom 〈◊〉 numerously various as can alone form so vast a Composition.  
Besides all which, they cannot by any Art or Expression of the Poet be rendered much above the ordinary level of human Discussion and Imitation; by reason that the Prudence or Morality of any Actions, howsoever great they tend to Instruction, will concentre, in some degree, with common Thought and Observance. But in that part of such a Poem that includes an Allegory of Things and Persons, the Notions are more sublimely fitted to that purpose, as they have Reference to the unlimited Productions and Conduct of the Mind.  
Thus in Magical Transformations, Visions, Apparitions, Ecstasies, Dreams, extraordinary Adventures, and the like; there is an unconfined Nature of Representation, or such as will not be found to accompany our passions and Affections in any ordinary Act or Contemplation: wherefore, of such, the most spiritual and wonderful part of an Epike Composition must consist, that it may be delivered thereby more remote and surprising.  
To which effect Ulysses in Homer, and the Hero of the Aeneads are not so much Objects of Admiration and extraordinary note, as they were great in Fortitude or prudence, Things, as I have already expressed, that most men presume in some measure to understand and imitate: but as they had encountered Monsters, conversed with Apparitions and Ghosts in their Infernal Visits, whereby Admiration is raised, and their Characters conveyed more superlative and perfect, because exalted above usual Thought or Example.  
And who does not more erect his Imagination in reading of the Descent of Aeneas into the Elysian Fields, and the extraordinary Notions and Descriptions arising from thence, than in taking notice of his more familiar Actions of Magnanimity and Conduct.  
I had almost forgot a very pertinent passage in reference to what I now assert in behalf of this kind of Poesy.  
And that shall be taken from the appearing of Hector after Death unto Aeneas, and his speech represented by way of Dream or Vision.  
By which, whosoever considers the superlative Impression of passion that was charactered by this Hero, revived by the poetical Summons of Virgil, shall find, if the Circumstances of his appearance are duly considered, that all the glorious Achievements of Hector joined to his Heroic Fall by the Sword of Achilles, could not so Emphatically consummate the Story of his past Life, as in being thus briefly described by the Poet, though but in an imaginary Method.  
I could instance likewise as much in the Case of Polydorus, where Virgil, to express the covetous Gild of a King of Thrace, who had murdered that young Prince for his Treasure, has in the Miracle of his speaking from under Ground, divinely fixed a due Detestation of so horrid a Crime, as also excited the most pathetic Sorrow that can be imagined for the cruelty of his end.  
All which, if according to ordinary Fact they had been described, would have fallen far short of their Efficacy, on all accounts, as wanting their preternatural force and esteem, or the Reputation of Wonder revealed by permission from above.  
And thus it appears, that things marvellous, and of highest admiration, or such as cannot be personated by Deeds and Words of the living, must be the supreme Ornaments of an Epike Poem.  
Whereas in the Dramatic way it is far otherwise, because similitude to genuine Converse and action is chiefly there to be resembled; though not always unaccompanyd with things preternatural and prodigious, as may be gathered from the use of Magical Enchantments, and the Apparitions of Ghosts and Spirits in divers of our old and best Plays.  
Some there are that would so far unsoul Poesy, as to allow nothing represented by it other than what familiarly resembles the ordinary Results of our Actions and Converse, and this they term likening of Truth; not considering that there is a similitude allowable for Contemplation and Opinion received by Men.  
As the Doctrine of separated Forms and Spirits, the total practices of Conjurations and Magic. By which means incorporeal Apparitions have been conceded to appear: and he that denies their Credibility, must likewise disallow the Revelations of holy Writ, which gives authority, more than enough, to Poesy to take that for Truth which is there affirmed to be such.  
On which ground I do not conceive why a Heroic Poem, which some undertake to deny, should not be as extraordinarily written in consonance to Christian Belief, as any was performed by the Ancients in their fictitious introducing of Hobgoblins, imaginary Deities and Visions: since we may have poetical Recourse to spiritual Existencies and Apparitions, if properly applied, as aptly to our purpose as they could invent to assist their Designs. In like manner, instead of their Centaurs, Harpy's, Cyclops', and the like, we have our Prodigies, and Monsters of Men and Creatures▪ so that I do not see why our Fictions may not be as duly supplied and grounded on any such account, as the ancient Poets could pretend to. Besides all which, there is no useful Poetical Nominal, or Ornament relating to things above or below, but may be as pertinently appropriated by us, as by whatsoever former Writer.  
As who can doubt but Concupiscence may be signified by Venus, the Winds by Aeolus, the Sea by Neptune, and so of other fictitious Attributes usefully common to us and them.  
And we ought rather to blame the narrowness of our Invention, than to conceive that there is not Furniture enough in Poetry to embellish the Grandeur of an Epic Contrivance.  
True it is, that according to holy Religion, we must not presume to transform our Hero's into Demigods, which I confess was some advantage to the Ancients in magnifying their Heroics above the ordinary Exaltation and Endowments of Men: However I believe that the sublime Piety and Fortitude incident to a Christian Hero duly conveyed by the Poet in reference to Exploits of highest Admiration and Glory, may well compare with what could be feigned of the best of theirs.  
And this I suppose is sufficient for their Conviction, who affirm that an Epike Poem is not to be produced within the bounds of Christianity. Not but I grant that it is a Work of highest difficulty, and no less to be admired, if perfect, than some wondrous Architecture hardly to be equalled in point of Design, Magnitude, and Beauty.  
But not impossible to be effected since there needs not be urged a surer Refutation of all Opposers, than the marvellous esteem of this Author, notwithstanding the Obsoleteness of his English and Verse, who lived within a hundred years of our time. But how to excuse the choice of the Language he writ in, that he could not but know, was of too antiquate a Date, if not generally exploded by all Writers in the time he lived; or why he should not conceive himself obliged to impart the Tongue of that season as currant as he found it, I cannot apprehend.  
Unless he was resolved, as is reported of him, to imitate his ancient Predecessor Chaucer, or affected it out of design to restore our Saxon English. However it was, the Reader may peruse him here, as far as I have gone, in more fashionable English and Verse; and I hope without Diminution to his Fame in any regard.   

TO THE AUTHOR OF SPENCER REDIVIVUS.  

WEll to improve dead Author, and refine  
His proper worth, resembleth power divine.  
Or as Faith does of Resurrection tell,  
When Souls by future Glory shall excel.  
Thus does your Pen in this your Work provide,  
That Spencer's Fame shall still renewed abide.  
So clear by you his deep Invention's told,  
That in your words him perfect I behold.  
His Stanza's, Language, old as Saxon Rhyme,  
From you receive fit Epithets and Chime.  
What could your pregnant Genius higher raise,  
Than with smooth Verse to polish ancient Bays?  
Of English, he had most the Epike Vein,  
And first does by your Lines advantage gain.  
I'll not trust Painters, who no Pencil say  
Can warmly liken Life the copied way.  
Since I affirm, that Spencer figured here  
Does in his lively Pattern best appear.  
And who reads that with a discerning mind,  
Must wish that more of him such Change may find:  
Or be your happy Emulator seen  
In copying, where you leave, the Fairy Queen.    

The PROEM.  

BEhold the Man whose Muse in former time  
Divulged in Pastoral Song his softer Rhyme:  
Does now presumet' attempt the lofty Praise  
Of Martial Verse and Deeds that Hero's blaze.  
With what their gentlest Thoughts and Actions claim,  
Together with their lovely Heroines Fame.  
Which far to spread me sacred Muses bring,  
That gladly Arms and Love Heroick sing.  
And chiefly from their unknown Rolls rehearse  
Deeds by the Nine alone inspired to Verse.  
Where beauteous Tanaquil admired must stand,  
And Knights that most renowned our Fairy Land:  
Together with that mighty Britain Prince,  
Whose Prowess did such wondrous Fame dispense:  
Heightened by Glory and despiteful wrong,  
Above what yet has been the Muse's Song.  
Against whom th' Amorous God's most cruel Dart  
Kindled impetuous wrath within his Heart.  
Until triumphant Mars, with calmer mind,  
Had horrid Spoils and Rage to Love resigned.  
And you, bright Mistress, of this greatest Isle,  
The Princely Type and Splendour of my Style;  
Let your Beams without Phoebus' aid inspire  
Verse, that your Virtues aptly may admire.    

ERRATA.  
PAge 32. lin. 9, and lin. 13. for Frandabio read Fradubio. p. 81. l. 13. for sight r. light. p. 203. l. 6. for away r. way. p. 208. l. 5. for vast r. huge. p. 209. l. 5. for had defiled, r. them defiled. p. 214. l. 1. for could eat r. could feed.   


CANTO I.  
The Argument.  

The Patron of true Piety  
Foul Error doth Defeat,  
But Snares of vile Hypocrisy  
His Virtue next do Cheat.   

A Worthy Knight was Riding on the Plain,  
In Armour Clad, which richly did Contain  
The Gallant Marks of many Battles fought,  
Tho' he before no Martial Habit sought;  
How Warlike ere his Person seemed to Sat  
On a Bold Steed, that scarce obeyed the Bit:  
Upon his Breast a Bloody Cross displayed,  
The Precious drops for him his Saviour paid;  
And on his Mighty Shield the same did bear,  
To show his Faith was made his Valours Care.  
Yet with his Comely Looks appeared sad,  
Without the sign of Fear or being bad;  
Whom now a high Adventure did Command,  
Which Great Gloriana, Queen of Fairy Land,  
To Honour him, by her especial Grace,  
Did on his Worth and trusty Merit place.  
Like which his Soul no Earthly Glory deemed,  
If by her Virtue his might be esteemed:  
Wishing, each step his Courser made, to Try  
His Prowess with the Stoutest Enemy.  
Near to his side an Ass more white than Snow,  
A Lovely Lady's weight did undergo;  
Whose Form far whiter than the Beast she rid,  
Under a Mournful Veil was fully hid,  
Which showed the Secret Care in Heart she had;  
And in a Line a Milk white Lamb she led.  
Behind her did a Dwarf at distance lag,  
That wearied seemed with bearing of her Bag:  
Whilst in this Posture as they forward passed,  
The Day with Clouds was suddenly overcast;  
And pouring forth a horrid Storm of Rain,  
To shelter did this Beauteous pair Constrain.  
A shady Grove not far from them they spied,  
Whose lofty Trees adorned with Summer's Pride,  
So broad did spread, that no Celestial Light  
Was there perceivable to Human Sight:  
And all within were Paths and Alleys strange,  
With Footing worn, and inward far did Range.  
The Covert liked, with Pleasure they passed on,  
Joying to hear the Birds Harmonious Song;  
Which, therein sheltered, gratefully declare  
By Songs their safety from Tempestuous Air;  
Or seemed in Notes to praise Trees strait and high,  
The sailing Pine, or Cedar tall as Sky,  
The Building Oak, and Elm the Love of Vines,  
The Poplar lest for want of Moisture Pines.  
Whilst here in unknown Tracts their Persons stray,  
Allured by pleasing steps till lost their way;  
And when the blustering Storm was over blown,  
Wandered to find the Path which first was known:  
So many Intricacies and Turnings seen,  
As which to take or leave their doubt was then:  
At last advanced, they forward did descry  
A Track that seemed most beaten to the Eye;  
Which tho' amidst this Labyrinth 'twas found,  
They hoped might lead to safe and open Ground:  
Until arrived unto a Caves deep sight,  
When from his Steed this Hero did alight:  
And fearless to his Dwarf commits the Care  
Both of his Courser and his shining Spear.  
Whose fair Companion soon him Caution gave,  
As boldly he was moving toward this Cave;  
Fearing that peril vainly he provoked,  
Or might find hidden Fire before it smoked:  
Adding whithal how her Soul boded then,  
That wand'ring steps led them to Error's Den.  
A Monster God and Man presums to hate,  
From which 'tis wisest timely to retreat:  
Your worth preserved, as you Attempts restrain,  
Where Men the Author's rashness may arraign.  
These words thus said, her fearful Dwarf apace,  
With Timorous looks and voice bemoaned their Case  
Begging that Instant they'd for safety fly,  
Since his Soul, tho' in his small Bulk, could spy  
Vast Mischiefs did within that Cave abscond,  
And must, if sought, best Human strength confound.  
Whilst with a resolute Brow and hardy Flame,  
The Youthful Knight unto this Dungeon came;  
And looking in, his glistering Armour made  
Some streaks of Light within the dismal Shade;  
By which he saw the ugly Monster laid,  
Half way a Serpent horribly displayed:  
Whose other Moiety did shape retain  
Of Woman loathed, or fit for worst disdain:  
And as she in her filthy Den did lie,  
Prodigious Knots, with strange Deformity,  
Her Monstrous form did variously surround;  
Whilst for her Tail and deadly Sting the Ground  
Too narrow seemed, whose spurious Body bred  
A thousand Monsters by her Dugs were fed.  
And when that uncouth Light she had espied,  
She Gaped, that down her Throat her Brood might glide  
Which done, this Monster leaves her Den, afraid,  
And round her cursed Head her Tail displayed;  
Tho' when she had perceived this Champion bold,  
She would have turned unto her safer Hold:  
Declining Light, as her most foul disgrace,  
Whose Falsehood feared Truth's plain and open Face  
Which as this Hero saw, he forward went;  
Fierce as a Lion on his Prey is Bend:  
And with his Brandished Sword the Monster stayed,  
At which enraged she yawned and loudly brayed:  
Her deadly Sting and Tail against him advanced,  
Whilst from her Head his strong blow downward glanced  
And passing thus her hardy Sense amazed,  
Till rage recruited, she more dreadful raised  
Her ugly Bulk, and Circling it around  
With her vast Stern, prodigiously from Ground,  
A leap she took, and on his Shield did light,  
When more his steady Temper to affright,  
Her weight and various Form she round him cast,  
That to stir Limb his mighty Strength seemed passed.  
Whose pitying Lady, as she did behold  
This ugly Fiend like mighty Thongs enfold  
The Comely Person of her Famous chief;  
From Heaven she begged with Tears his soon relief:  
Next urged him, howe'er suffering sad Constraint,  
That in no force or vigour he should faint;  
But choke the Fiend, ere she his Life should seize,  
And from his Flesh his Soul with Torment sqeeze.  
Which Heroine speech his Heart to Fury wrought;  
Who striving one Arm freed, and with that caught  
The Monster's Throat, by which enforced she spewed  
Prodigious Poison horribly Embrued  
With blackest Blood, and lumps of Gobbets raw▪  
Besides, Books, Paper, from her Cursed Maw  
She then disgorged, with Frogs, Toads wanting Eyes▪  
Numerous as Spawns of Monsters that arise  
From Slimy Nile, and with their stench much more  
Afflicted him then all her Body's power.  
So nauceously by it his sense annoyed,  
As his fierce Courage seemed more weak employed.  
Which when the Serpent saw, her inward Sink  
Dicharged shoals of Creatures black as Ink,  
That round his Legs deform'dly soon did crawll,  
Tho' in that Plight he felt no hurt at all.  
Like to some Man whom sworms of Flies infest,  
And with their Buzzing noise disturb his Rest;  
Until his Hands do interrupt their Course,  
Or they with wearied Wings remove their Force.  
Whilst thus enraged and conscious of worse shame,  
With renewed Fury to his Foe he came;  
And striking her with more than human strength,  
Her Head he severed from her Body's length:  
Whence her Infernal Life flowed from her Veins,  
In Blood that filled the Ground with foulest stains.  
Her scattered Brood, soon as their Parent fell,  
Like Imps that nourished were by Food from Hell,  
Deeply Lamenting did her Corpse surround,  
Hoping their wont entrance to have found.  
But unattained, they in the sanguine Flood  
Wallowing, drank up their Mother's loathsome blood.  
Which sight this gallant Person much amazed,  
As he with horror on these Monsters gazed;  
Whose glutted bodies swollen, asunder burst,  
Killed by her Blood which them had kindly nursed.  
His Foes subdued, and by themselves thus slain,  
Towards him in haste his Lady moved again;  
Saying, Loved Man, what Stars admired support  
Could human Prowess aid with such effort  
As your Achieves, whilst dead before you lies  
The Fiend, with all her Brood of Enemies?  
Worthy you are the Arms you wear to wield,  
And prove 'em further in some glorious Field;  
Since in your first Adventures you complete  
Deeds that assure your future highly great.  
Who mounted with his Lady back again,  
Followed a Path which seemed to them most plain,  
And like a Line that straitest does extend,  
Led them unto this vast Wood's wished-for end.  
Which passed, for new Adventures he prepared,  
So great in Soul as nought but Heaven he feared.  
Far had he travelled ere he did discern  
The face of Man, or worldly Tidings learn;  
When he an aged person met by chance,  
That clad in black unto him did advance;  
Whose Feet were bare, his Beard turned hoary grey  
Like Grass by Frost is changed on Winter's day:  
Lowly his Eyes unto the ground he bend,  
And knocked his Breast like Sinners that repent.  
Who, when beheld this Chief, with comely Grace  
And Looks, that suited well his aged Face,  
Gravely salutes him; which no sooner done:  
But this brave Champion asked, if to him known  
Achievements were, that farthest spread their fame  
Or might, if sought, live great on Hero's name.  
To whom the aged person thus replied,  
What you require in course of Life's denied  
To my observance, whilst most hours I tell  
Within the Confines of an obscure Cell;  
Where Beads I count, and whither loudest sound  
Of warlike deeds, has yet least passage found.  
But if of dangers you vouchsafe to hear,  
That nearest home employ the heedful ear:  
Know that a mighty Man, of Fury strange,  
Wasting this Country far and near doth range.  
Vast distance hence in Wilderness most wild  
His Being is, where Beasts of prey more mild  
Than him inhabit, whose Confines none pass,  
But life must hazard, or their worse distress.  
Of such a one I chiefly would inquire,  
Replied this Knight, inflamed with Martial Fire;  
Judging that he the shame of Honour lives,  
That unto Man unjust Oppression gives.  
Which brave Resolve, when by his Heroine heard:  
She said, Kind Sir, be yet a while deterred  
Your forward Prowess, since your latest Fight  
Requires your Toils should cease at least one Night:  
When from untroubled Thought, and timely Rest,  
You'll manage your ensuing Conduct best.  
Thus Phoebus and his eager Steeds, some say,  
Bait and refresh before next burning day.  
Soon on these words the aged man took hold:  
Saying, What Cavalier, of Deeds most bold,  
Would not to such a beauteous Prudence yield,  
That has espoused your Perils long in Field?  
Wherefore take respite, as she does advise,  
That with more force your Glory may arise.  
Till when, with hers, let my persuasion join,  
And rest with me in the small home is mine.  
Which courteous offer did on them prevail,  
And next he guides them to a pleasant Vale,  
Where stood his Dwelling, far removed from Road,  
Befitting well strict Hermit's sole Abode.  
A Chapel too there stood, near which did run  
Streams that had from a sacred Fountain sprung.  
Pleased they arrived, though no Repast found here,  
But Rest, more welcome than delicious fare.  
Whilst with smooth words this seeming Hermit passed  
From Tale to Tale, so long as day did last:  
Most touching Saints and Popes admired of old,  
And kissed his Beads when of their deeds he told.  
Soon had the Night their drowsy powers inclined  
To welcome Sleep, the bodies ease and Mind:  
Which seen, this old Deceiver gravely leads  
Them unto Rooms, where they, instead of Beds,  
On rushy Floors their weary Limbs reposed,  
And with fast Sleep their heavy Eyelids closed.  
Which when this man of cursed Arts did find,  
He to a Cell retires, in which all kind  
Of Magic Books and Spells he often used,  
And could raise Fiends that other Charms refused.  
Where next, he hellish Poesy repeats,  
That Heaven blasphemed, and praised infernal States.  
Proceeding thus, until the Stygian Frame  
Shook, and awaked black Pluto's swarthy Dame:  
From whom he summoned Sprights in number more  
Than Flies that swarm by Summer's heatful power;  
And these, like such, about his head did hum,  
Waiting Commands from his cursed lips might come:  
Of which he two approved most swift could fly  
Through Airy Regions, and Invent worst lie:  
Whilst for his purpose he bids one to stay,  
As t'other should his far Commands obey:  
Enjoining him with utmost speed to find  
The Seat of Morphaeus, where, with drowsy Mind,  
He near unto smooth Thetis Bed doth rest  
Clad in Night's blackest Mantle round his Breast.  
Soon having past Ocean's wide and deep,  
This nimble Spirit found the God of Sleep,  
Tho low reposed in bosom of the Earth,  
As seat of winds, or Zephyrus moistest Birth;  
Where trickling Streams from Rocks their passag find  
And join their murmurs with the softest Wind.  
Rudely he there the sleepy God had pushed,  
And next from side to side his Body thrust;  
Yet could not so his heavy Sense awake,  
Till noise he louder in his Ear did make,  
Then sounds of Boreas on the Northern shore,  
Where waves to clouds he lifts by his rough power  
At which the God, raising his lumpish head,  
Frowning demanded, by whose Errand sped  
He durst the sacred Residence molest  
Of him allowed the Deity of Rest?  
To whom the Fiend replied, that him had sent  
Commanding Archimago, whose intent  
Must be obeyed, before again he close  
His drowsy Eyelids, or his Soul repose.  
And did require, that from his slumbering Sense,  
The falsest Dream he should by him dispense.  
The easy God, unwilling to contend  
With Magic Powers, delivers to this Fiend  
A Dream that various Falsehoods did contain,  
And in his Cave till then had darkest lain:  
Like which no Hellish Charms before obtained,  
Or Poet with remotest Raptures feigned.  
Which done, the slumbering Morphaeus void of care  
Again reposed, when mounting high in Air,  
The Fiend arrived to his enchanting Lord,  
Whose wicked Brain did variously afford  
Deep Magic Arts, and, e'er returned this Spirit,  
Of t'other formed a Beauty to the sight:  
Her tender parts composed of liquid Air,  
And for more wonder seemed like Una fair.  
In Dress and comely Mien resembled so,  
As Twin to Twin did ne'er such likeness show.  
The Spirit that with the evil Dream arrived,  
With this Fictitious Beauty soon contrived  
How the bold Cavalier, that sleeping lay,  
They might to her alluring Form betray.  
To perfect which, with well instructed haste,  
Next to his slumbering head the Fiend was placed  
The Dream had brought, and by its Charms instilled  
Thoughts that the Hero's sleep with Lust had filled▪  
Whose resolute heart began to melt away,  
As he conceived his Lady by him lay;  
And with her losest Grace did him invite  
To foul Desires, and wanton Love's delight:  
And though the Daughter of a mighty King,  
Stained with the blackest guilt that Lust could bring;  
Whom he before allowed the chastest Flower,  
That e'er was beautified by Nature's Power:  
Whilst these sad Passions did his Soul affright,  
Songs, soft as Hymen's, gave his Ear delight:  
To which the Goddess Flora seemed to dance  
With gayest Nymphs, that welcome Spring's advance▪  
Then up he starts, when with amazed Eye  
He saw the beauteous Tempter next him lie,  
Offr'ing to kiss him with a blushing Grace,  
To liken more fair Una's modest Face.  
Wounded in Soul at this distasteful Shame,  
He thought to kill her Body's lustful Frame.  
And as he thus resolved, with softest Grief  
And Tears constrained, she courts her Love's relief;  
Saying, What Woman's Breast can quench that fire,  
Which Stars and Love resistless do conspire?  
Tho I acknowledge, from my wretched State,  
Death due to me, or what is worse, your Hate:  
Yet pity well my youthful Love's Effort,  
And how for you I left my Father's Court,  
To wander far as Fortune you should call;  
At which she stopped, whilst Tears did from her fall.  
Then speaks▪ and sighs, and weeps as much again,  
So like to Grief, as none she seemed to feign:  
To which her Lover with Resentment said,  
What makes your Virtue, Madam, now dismayed,  
That lately me encouraged not to fear  
When worst of Monsters did my Foes appear?  
Love of yourself, said she, and dear Constraint,  
Forced my Address to you, and sad Complaint;  
Who could this tedious Night find no Repose,  
Longing in your embrace my Eyes to close;  
Whilst you employ in careless sleep your Time,  
That least should nourish Lovers slothful Crime.  
What fascination e'er like this did move  
The Soul of youthful Man inflamed by Love?  
Yet since in her no actual Ill he knew,  
He would not rashly censure her untrue;  
But with advised deliberation says,  
If Love to me your softer Passion sways,  
'Tis Una still in your bright Form I see,  
To whom no Genius bad can likened be.  
Let not then vain Distrust procure your smart,  
But to your Rest this gloomy Night depart.  
At which, with Grief concealed, the Fiend declined  
Further Attempts against his steadfast mind;  
Seeming to yield her false Desires appeased,  
Since 'twas his will by words she should be pleased▪  
And moving from him with a feigned Grace,  
Withdrew, as if she'd find her resting Place.  
Long had he pondered the uneasy thought  
Of her Address, resembling Woman nought;  
For whose defence his life he would expose:  
Lying thus perplexed till sleep his Eyes did close.  
Prone unto ease, overtoiled with former Fight,  
Yet could not rest for Dreams of frail Delight:  
That seemed to tantalise his drowsy Powers,  
With sights of Beauties lying in Beds and Bowers:  
And when all these had vanished from his Brain,  
He thought the former Fiend he found again.    

CANTO II.  
The Argument.  

The guileful great Enchanter parts  
From Truth, the Red-Cross Chief;  
And in her stead, by wicked Arts,  
Fair Falsehood works his Grief.   

NOw had Boaetes Team far passed behind  
The Northern Star, when hours of night d clin  
And cheerful Chanticleer, with shrillest voice,  
Exulting did day's near approach rejoice;  
When this profound Magician's hellish Sprights▪  
By no deluding Dreams, or feigned Sights,  
Could tempt the steady Hero to embrace  
Pleasures that might induce his lapse from Grace▪  
Which as this furious Necromancer knew,  
To search his cursed Books he soon withdrew.  
And standing in a Magic posture read  
Words, that his former Fiends employed more bad;  
Of one of which he makes a Youthful Squire,  
Effeminate seemed in Looks and vain Attire,  
Whom with the other miscreated fair,  
This wicked Artist meant his wanton pair.  
Which done he wakes his Warlike Guest in haste,  
Just as he had by sleep found some repast;  
After his troublesome Dreams and Visions fled,  
To whom his Cursed Host thus to him sed:  
With words thick uttered, as if sudden fear  
His Sense surprised, or danger to him near.  
Arise thou slothful Man, and see the stain  
Of her thy Love and Virtue hoped to gain.  
At which he starts, and with a Furious look  
His naked Weapon in his Hand he took;  
Following this Old Enchanter to the place  
Where the false Couple lay in vile Embrace;  
And seeing his only Una, as he thought,  
By Lust to shameless Prostitution brought:  
Resolved to kill both Reeking in their shame,  
Had not his wicked Host withheld his Flame:  
Who seemed by Friendly dictates to advise,  
How noble Minds should Passion most despise;  
Since never great Man's Fame did higher stand  
From tender Woman's dying by his Hand.  
Which words, tho' subtle, hardly did restrain  
His sudden Fury, as his Eyes with pain  
Beheld her Virtue fallen, whence oppressed  
With Pangs and Horrors, to his place of Rest  
Returns again, wasting that doleful Night  
With thoughts that might revenge her vicious spigh  
And now the Morning Star, of all most bright,  
Foretold the near approach of dawning Light;  
When up this Hero rose with troubled Breast,  
Calling his Dwarf with an unusual haste  
To bring his Steed, that both away might Fly  
From this Loathed place of his Calamity.  
When day ensuing, the sole Virgin left  
Her place of rest, next finds herself bereft  
Of her Brave Lover that unhappy hour:  
Whilst she lamenting could no Cause deplore  
Of his neglect; her Dwarf too with him gone,  
And she left thus distressed to weep alone;  
Yet him she grieving followed with what speed  
Her slow Beast's steps could make to catch his Steed.  
Passing of tedious Hills, Dales, Woods, and Plains,  
In fruitless search of him who her disdains.  
But subtle Archimago when he saw  
His Guest's in such distraction to withdraw,  
And Beauteous Una left to pass alone  
Through Deserts, where her loss she'd saddest mourn;  
His Fiends he hug'd, and praised his Impious Arts,  
That to his wish had injured Virtuous Hearts:  
Nor there does rest, but more accursed devise  
How from their Grief his wicked Joy might rise;  
T' accomplish which by his deluding Art  
He out-do's Proteus Counterfeiting part.  
Changing his shape unto Beasts, Foul, or Fish,  
Or Dragon most enraged seemed to Hiss:  
That of himself for fear he often quakes,  
As he by Spells his Metamorphoise makes;  
Until his Magic spite the form did choose,  
That most might his late injured Guest abuse.  
His Person likened to the Red-Cross Knight,  
The Virtuous Una's safety and delight;  
And by his Shield, Steed, Crest and outward Grace  
A Jolly Hero seemed in tother's place.  
But he whose feigned resemblance thus appeared,  
From jealous Mind his Lady false had feared;  
Intending with impetuous haste to ride  
Far as his resolute Grief his Steed could guide:  
Till, as he wandered, meeting on the way  
A Faithless Sarazin clad in Armour gay;  
Fiercely designed all good Men to annoy:  
And like his Soul, by Name was called Sans-Foy.  
Mighty he showed in Limbs and every part,  
Defying God and Man with his proud Heart.  
With him a Lady did Companion ride,  
Who comely could her wanton Palfrey guide;  
Whose Bit with Golden Bells and Bosses rung,  
Her Saddle Rich, and with best Trappings hung;  
Her Habit choicest Silk of Scarlet Red  
Purfled with Gold and Pearl, and on her Head  
A Stately Persian Mitre studded o'er  
With various figured Gem's she gaily wore:  
Given her by Lavish Lovers fond excess,  
Whilst goodly seemed her Beauty's Native dress.  
And as this Amorous Couple forward went,  
Their softest Gestures solaced their intent.  
But when he saw a Cavalier Advance,  
And with his Spear oppose her dalliance;  
She bade her Sarazin provide to Fight,  
If his Arms durst oblige his Lady's sight.  
At which on Spurs, against his Foe he rides,  
Whose strokes drew streams of Blood from his Steeds sides.  
Soon had the Red-Cross Chief his Fury spied,  
Who couching of his Spear did towards him ride;  
Whilst soon each other they so fierce assault,  
That their Steeds staggered as their Riders fought:  
Until astonished by the Blows they struck,  
Their constrained Valours had some respite took.  
As when two Ram's their pushing fury show,  
Striving to rule the Flock and fairest Ewe:  
Amazed stand after their Horned shock  
And furious Brows against one another knock.  
Thus stood these two, until the Sarazin,  
With his huge Sword does fiercer Fight begin.  
Whose Foe not only did avoid the harm,  
But Blows returns; as if a Fury's Charm  
His Steel had guided, or that some vast Oak  
He would have hewed to Shivers at each stroke:  
Yet neither stirs, tho' from their Blows each Shield  
Strikes Fire▪ and wounds deep die the verdant Field  
Curse said the Sarazin upon that Cross,  
That saves from me thy Lifes designed Loss;  
Dead else I'm sure thou hadst been long ago,  
And if thou canst stand safe from this rough blow  
I now thee give, which forced against his Crest,  
Hewed part away, and glanced upon the rest.  
Which tho' the Red-Cross Chief had deeply felt,  
Yet finding that of his no Blood was spilt:  
To Heaven he first erects his thankful Eyes,  
And next, like Lightnings force, by swift surprise  
His glittering Sword his Enemy's Head does cleave,  
And tumbling from his Horse him dead did leave:  
Who dying grudged to fall by human power,  
That Mightiest Men had vanquished till that hour.  
Whose Bloody Mouth his Mother Earth next kissed,  
Whilst his Soul flew where Ghosts and Devils hissed.  
The Lady when she saw her Champion's fall,  
(Like some vast remnant of a broken Wall)  
Stayed not to mourn his woeful end with Tears,  
But from his Victor hastes with busy fears.  
Which by this Chief perceived, he bids his Dwarf  
Bring with him the vast Sarazin's Shield and Scarf  
As his wone Trophies, and next on his Steed  
He follows her, and soon o'ertakes her speed;  
Inviting her by Courteous words to stay,  
Since no Act he'd attempt should her dismay.  
When turning towards him with a sorrowful Brow'  
She begged that Mercy he'd vouchsafe to show  
Distressed Woman, of all aid bereft,  
And to Implore his goodness solely left.  
Which words delivered with an Humble Grace,  
His Noble Soul grants pity to her Case:  
Saying, your Fortune Madam I lament,  
Nor was your Champion slain with my intent  
Your Tears should follow, wherefore let me know  
What briefly may with yours his story show.  
To whom she did Lamenting thus express,  
Tho' low I am reduced by your Success;  
And Fortune now commits me to your power,  
The only Daughter of an Emperor;  
Whose Mighty Sceptre the wide West does Rule,  
His Seat at Rome the World's best Martial School.  
But what avails my Birth alas to tell,  
Or Fate that since on my Youth's flower befell:  
Betrothed unto a great Kings only Heir,  
Of comely form and soul'd above compare;  
Never loved Woman Man more truly kind,  
When cruel Fate, before our Marriage joined,  
Him by a Murderer's bloody Hand did slay;  
For which I grieve to live until this Day.  
His blessed Body spoiled of lively Breath  
From me concealed, of whose most Innocent death  
When Tidings came to me, unhappy Maid,  
With deepest sorrow than my Love assayed  
By search and Travel his dead Corpse to find,  
Feeling my wound as does the stricken Hind.  
At last it chanced that in my wand'ring Course,  
I was by this proud Sarazin seized by force,  
Yet never could from me the Fort obtain  
Whose vicious Loss gives Virgin highest stain.  
There lies Sans-Foy, and might my wish succeed,  
His Impious Race as fatally should Bleed.  
Two of his wicked Brothers yet remain  
Sans-Ioy one called, Sans-Loy the tother's Name:  
Whilst I, distressed Fidessa, truly tell  
The Casual Griefs my Love and Life befell.  
May these your Pity move, and if not so,  
Offer no harm if you no kindness show.  
Deeply this Hero weighed what she had told,  
Yet more desired her Feature to behold:  
Saying, that her concerns might surely find  
Compassion from a Soul then his less kind;  
On which assurance she may safely rest,  
Nay judge his Prowess for her Service Blest:  
Which had defeated that vile Man's intent,  
Whose raging Lust designed her ravishment.  
What change then this could more oblige her Eyes,  
Or Man by Valour would conspicuous rise.  
Which said, she downward cast her Blushing Face,  
More to resemble Virgins Modest Grace;  
Yet by her silence did enough Imply,  
That her soft Genius lest would Love deny;  
How coily mingled ere her Looks did show,  
As he did Courtly Mirth on her bestow.  
And thus they forward rid, till burning day  
Caused them to seek some shelter in their way▪  
When, weary with long Travelling, they found  
Two mighty Oaks whose Massy Limbs the Ground  
Far shaded, tho' no fearful Shepherd there  
Durst with his merry Pipe rejoice his Ear.  
Hither arrived, they from their Steeds alight,  
And with their best devoyres themselves delight:  
Whilst this great Chief, by his two kind mistake,  
Thought Heaven of Mortals her did brightest make.  
And as he thus Employed his gentle Wit,  
A Garland for her Brow resolved to fit  
With choicest Branches of these mighty Trees;  
Which plucked from them, like opened Veins he sees  
Small drops of Blood to his amazement flow,  
And next a dreadful Voice hears speak below;  
Crying, O Cease with guilty Hands to tear  
My tender sides, much safer were your fear  
Of this sad place, where Fate on me befell  
Who Loved a wretched Lady but too well:  
Love truly dear, since never death before  
Has Lovers cost the Change that we deplore.  
Astonished at this Voice a while he stood,  
Cold Horror having seized his warmest Blood:  
Or like to one that in a Trance does speak,  
Till by degrees his Soul is more awake;  
Dubiously asks, If Voice of Man or Ghost  
Did from that Tree his disturbed Sense accost?  
When with deep Groans the Voice replied again,  
That no Fiend did within that Bark remain,  
But me Frandabio turned into a Tree  
By a cursed Witch my Fatal Enemy:  
And standing thus Transformed do suffer pains,  
As hot and cold Extremes afflict my Veins.  
Say on Frandabio then, this Chief replies,  
Whether in Man or Tree thy Soul now lies.  
He oft finds ease who sorrow does impart,  
Whilst grief Concealed adds grief unto the Heart.  
The source says he, kind Sir, of all my smarts,  
Proceeds from false Duessa's Magic Arts:  
When in my Prime of Youth and valour's Fire,  
A Gentle Lady's Love was my desire:  
Next me she stands converted to a Tree,  
And would bleed too, if plucked as you did me:  
With whom, as once I road, I did behold  
An armed man, who seemed a Champion bold:  
A Lady fair did next him likened ride,  
Whose outward Looks did foul Duessa hide.  
He Hector-like for his feigned Beauty stood,  
While I defended mine with loss of Blood:  
Mine that more bright than Morningstar appeared,  
Or Nymph, with figured Venus' best compared:  
For whose defence, by Arms I did compel  
That bold Man's force as he in Combat fell;  
And by this Martial chance, of him bereft,  
His Lady was to me his Victor left.  
Who now possessed of Beauties unlike fair,  
One seeming such, t'other so above compare.  
A time there was, within my thoughts I cast,  
Which of their Forms in Beauty most surpassed;  
And had a rosy Chaplet then decreed,  
As I held either brightest did exceed.  
Whilst I their beauteous Competition found,  
Enough to stagger Love to neither bound.  
Frelissa matchless fair appeared to me,  
When false Duessa seemed as fair as she.  
The wicked Witch perceiving all the while  
My dubious Thoughts, resolved me to beguile;  
And by her hellish Science did convey  
A Mist, that wrapped in dark the shining day;  
And sadly blasting my Frelissa's Face,  
The monstrous Hag seemed beauteous in her place▪  
Who next bids me behold the deformed sight  
Of her so late did human Eyes delight:  
Terming her beauteous Charms vile Witchcraft Art  
For which Death ought to end her wicked part.  
Provoked thus, Frelissa's Blood I'd spilt,  
Had not the Witch restrained me from that guilt.  
So leaving her where now she stands a Tree,  
Duessa in her stead I took with me.  
Which cursed Hag I courted as my Dame,  
Judging her outward Form deserved my Flame;  
Till on a day that was for wonder prime,  
When Witches suffer Penance for their Crime;  
I chanced to see her in her proper hue,  
Filthy, and old, as loathing Eye could view:  
Her monstrous secret parts in water hid,  
Yet not by it inspection was forbid;  
As through that Medium I beheld her more  
Deformed, than I thought Woman e'er before.  
Thenceforth from her I did intend to fly,  
As Heaven admitted opportunity.  
When she mistrusting of my laid design,  
Her Magic Powers against me worse did join.  
Who to my sleeping Person next applied  
Enchanted Oils, my Body so deprived,  
That when I waked my Senses me forsaken:  
At which advantage me her Witchcrafts took,  
Bringing me wretched to this desert Ground;  
And next my hapless Lady compassed round  
By Walls of Wood, as you behold us here  
In Trees to pine, which our sad Fates declare.  
W● how long said the mighty Chief must you  
Enclosed thus your destined Sorrows show?  
To which the Voice replied, that they must dwell  
Changed as they stood, till in a living Well  
Their Limbs were bathed, which only could restor  
Them to their pristine Shapes and vital Power.  
Happy were I, said he, if for your sakes  
My search could find the Well such Life partakes▪  
The false Duessa, now Fidessa feigned,  
Herd how in vain Fradubio had complained.  
Whilst the great Hero full of ghastly fear,  
As from this Tree he human Speech did hear:  
The bleeding Bow he thrust into the Ground,  
And closed with Clay the former wooden Wound  
That he no guilty mark from thence might bear:  
Whose Pity most would hapless Lovers spare.  
Which done, he to his Lady did return,  
Who lifelesses seemed those Accidents to mourn.  
Pale was her Face, and dim appeared her Eyes,  
Like one that faints in sounding-Fits, or dies.  
When this great Cavalier with careful Pain  
Her Body raised, and Temples rubbed in vain.  
Next, to her Lips employs his amorous Charms,  
Kissing her oft encompassed by his Arms.  
And as if Love could only her revive,  
She by degrees from Kisses seemed to live.  
Which when the Red-Cross Chief with Joy espied,  
He lifts her to her Steed, and on they ride.    

CANTO III▪  
The Argument.  

Best Truth her long sought Love bewails,  
And makes the Lion mild:  
Spoils blind Devotion's Trade, and falls  
To power of Lecher vile.   

What can of human things afflict the Mind,  
Like Fortune that to Beauty proves unkind:  
And I, whom her bright Virtues do compel,  
Woven for her sake in mournful Verse excel.  
●o which soft impulse my Muse aspires,  
That splendours most in Womankind admires.  
And now the Passion of my Soul's so deep  
For fairest Una, that my Eyes could steep  
Each Line I write of her distress in Tears,  
By cruel means exposed to endless Cares.  
Soul'd more than great, though Daughter of a King,  
And clear her truth as light from Heaven does spring  
Love filled her Breast, yet by his love forlorn,  
Whose Loss she wand'ring does in Deserts mourn▪  
Yet him, alas! too impiously betrayed  
By Archimago's Spells and conjuring Aid,  
She poor distressed Virgin far had sought,  
Where none wished Tidings of her Lover brought  
And now full weary of her irksome way,  
From her slow Beast she lights, and down did lay  
Her weary Limbs, where Trees their shadows spread  
Untying first her Fillet from her Head:  
And taking off her Stole, her Angel-face  
Like Sunshine did illuminate the place.  
Thus she reposed, when from th' adjacent Wood  
A Lion rushed that hunted after Blood;  
And as he did the Royal Virgin spy,  
With gaping Mouth at her run greedily.  
But when he near his beauteous Prey arrived,  
Noble remorse his hungry flame denied:  
Instead of which he kissed her weary Feet,  
And with kind licks her snow-white hands did greet.  
O force of Beauty, that could him command,  
Whom nothing living could by strength withstand.  
Which seen, her Heart in Tears began to melt,  
As for his sake she'd now affection felt;  
Saying, What Pity does this mighty Lord  
Of the World's Creatures to my Grief afford;  
Whilst my Love's Sovereign whom I did adore,  
Leaves me thus lost his hatred to deplore?  
Which words their Echoes from the Wood did find,  
Till Tears stayed further utterance of her Mind.  
And closing in her Breast her Sorrows Pain,  
She on her Snow-white Palfrey got again.  
Resolved her far strayed Champion to pursue,  
Whilst for her guard the Lion marched too.  
And when she toiled with Travel sleep would take,  
He watched her rest, and gladly saw her wake.  
And if by looks she her Intent designed:  
Her looks he waited to obey her mind.  
Long she thus journeyed through Deserts wide,  
Before she Path or living thing espied;  
Until at length she found where trodden Grass  
Under a hoary Mountain's bottom was:  
Where she beheld a Damsel slowly tread,  
Bearing a Pale of water on her head:  
To whom approached, she kindly did inquire  
If place were near, to which she might retire?  
Yet nothing would this homebred Maid reply,  
Who Lady thought strange Vision to her Eye.  
And seeing by her side the Lion stayed,  
Threw down her Pot, and ran far more afraid:  
Nor did she cease her utmost speed till come  
In sad amaze to her blind Mother's home.  
To whom arrived, fear took her Speech away:  
Instead of which, she trembling hands did lay  
On her dark Parent, who, though wanting Sight,  
By feeling understood her strange Affright:  
And could by use, though sightless, shut her Door,  
Hoping that might from danger them secure.  
Soon to the Wicket beauteous Una came,  
And gently did her refused entrance blame.  
But when her mighty Page perceived that none  
The Door would open, his rude Claws alone  
The Wicket into many shivers rend,  
At which so great was their Astonishment:  
That both unto a secret Corner made,  
Where the dark Mother her Devotion paid,  
By numerous Pater Nosters every day,  
And Ave Maries, which she used to say:  
And to augment her painful Penance more,  
She fasted oft, and coursest Sackcloth wore.  
But now her Beads she had forgot for fear:  
Which to remove, kind Una's Words did cheer  
Her timorous Soul, when she at length did pray  
That in her House the time of Night she'd stay.  
Down lies sad Una less to rest than weep,  
Whilst at her Feet the Lion watch does keep;  
Till she in Groans and Tears the Night had spent,  
Like one her Hero's Loss could still lament.  
And now the nightly Stars were mounted high,  
And sleeps Repose most closed the drowsy Eye;  
When vehemently one knocked at the Door,  
Yet knocked not louder than he cursed and swore,  
Who boldly his bad entrance did command,  
Loaded with Goods stole by his impious Hand▪  
Giving what e'er he any time purloined  
Unto the Daughter of this Woman blind,  
With whom he long had secret whoredom used,  
And for Lust's Bribe no evil Theft refused.  
His violent Tongue and knocking at the Door,  
The Women knew, accustomed to't before.  
But durst not give him entrance, as then lay  
The watchful Lion staring in their way.  
At which the sturdy Thief impatient grew,  
And next by force the Wicket open threw.  
Which when the noble Beast with scorn beheld,  
The bold Intruder in his Paws he held;  
Whom to resist 'twas vain, or help to call,  
So soon he tore the man in pieces small.  
Spilling his impious Blood upon the Floor,  
Where he had acted heinous Crimes before.  
Whose fearful Friends as they wore out the night,  
Durst not shed Tears, or own their bloody Fright:  
Lest the same Fate should on their Persons fall  
By him, for Una's sake durst kill 'em all.  
And now day's streaks adorned the Eastern Skies,  
When up this Beauty and her Lion rise;  
Fully resolved her wand'ring Chief to seek,  
Tho with more pains than the Heroic Greek  
Compassed the Earth; yet by her search despairs  
T'oblige his love that caused her restless Cares.  
With such Disasters her soft Soul complies  
To follow him that from her farthest flies.  
She being gone, out went the old blind Dame,  
And her loved Daughter full of wrathful Flame.  
Who finding Kirkrapine there dead to lie,  
They tore their Hair for Grief, and loud did cry.  
And when they both had raged, and wept their fill,  
Half mad through Malice and revengeful Will,  
They overtook best Una on her way,  
Against whom they railing lewdest things did say;  
Terming her worse than impious bloody Whore,  
And wished that endless Plagues she might deplore.  
But when they saw their Curses nought prevailed,  
They back returning their dead Thief bewailed:  
And meeting Archimago clad in Arms,  
He bids them stay, if he might know their Harms:  
Who now fair Una sought in vile disguise,  
And Author first of her worst Miseries:  
Bidding the blind old Woman to him say  
If she had Lady known who passed that way.  
Which heard, she soon her Passion did renew,  
Telling how lately she a Harlot knew;  
That Caused her to shed many bitter Tears,  
And next relates the Story of her fears.  
Much he appeared to pity her Mishap,  
Whilst in his inward Mind his Soul did laugh:  
In hope these Tidings might him soon direct  
To find the Lady and more Ills effect.  
Whom to pursue he forward did advance  
His fair enchanted Steed and Charmed Lance.  
Not long he rid till Una he descried,  
And that wild Champion marching by her Side.  
Surprised at which he next consults his fear,  
Nor durst with all his Spells approach too near:  
But turning to one Hand a Hill he took,  
By which she passing might upon him look.  
And from his seeming Shield and Person feigned,  
Think she had her Loved Hero's sight regained.  
Soon her quick Eye beheld his Likeness there,  
And next approaching with humble fear;  
Weeping thus said to her supposed Lord,  
Wretched is Una if by you abhorred▪  
Unknown to her whence your displeasure's rise,  
Or why she lost the Comfort of your Eyes.  
Tho' much I grieved for fear you thought amiss,  
And now to welcome you rejoice no less.  
To whom he answered, think not dearest Dame  
That ere neglect of you shall Brand my Name:  
Since you best Princess did my Love renown  
Above all Chiefs that served your Father's Throne.  
Sooner the Earth may cease her fruitful skill,  
Then your desert my Soul not amplest fill.  
True 'tis, from you a while depart I did,  
To Court your Beauty by more deeds achieved;  
And might perhaps, had you discerned my Aim,  
Have grievous seemed unto your softer flame.  
Well you remember Archimago told  
Me of a Felon that with Courage bold  
Had many Gallant Men despoy'ld and killed,  
For which his Blood, I, their Avenger, spilled.  
Let this brave Story your Complaint appease,  
And bid me next serve you on Land or Seas.  
Much did these words her sad Complaint remove,  
As what so soon does Cure Love's grief as Love.  
Forgetting next that ever she repined  
Herself deserted, or thought him unkind.  
Whilst by her Sight the happy Object found,  
Whom she so far had sought on pathless Ground.  
Or as the long Toiled Mariner espies  
The Port for which his fullest Sails he plies:  
His cheerful Voice do●s then expel the fear  
Of Storms and Oceans, once his restless Care.  
Thus Una did, whilst, more to mock her Toils,  
The vile Enchanter welcomes her with Smiles:  
And pitying of her dreadful late distress,  
Seemed, in her Eyes beheld, his own to bless.  
Next asked her how the Lion came to be  
So fond a Guardian of her Inn'cency.  
Gladly her Story unto him she told,  
When not far riding they a Man behold;  
Who on a Courser fiercely them did Meet,  
That raging seemed his Iron Bit to eat  
As his Stern Rider spurred his Foaming side;  
On whose strong Shield in Bloody Lines was died  
Sans-Loy's bold Name, who near approached this pair,  
And seeing a Chief the Red-Cross seemed to bear;  
Resolved by force of Arms with him to try  
Which should be most renowned for Chivalry.  
Whilst t'other to adventure Life was Loath,  
Till Una's Virtue had Condemned his sloth.  
At whose encouragement his timorous Soul,  
Ignoble fear, adventured to Controwl.  
And spurring of his Steed, with bold intent  
Against Sans-Loy his Mighty Foe he went.  
But that proud Pagan forward came so fierce,  
As the vain crossed Shield he quite did pierce.  
And had the opposite Steed not shrunk for fear,  
Through Arms and Body he had forced his Spear:  
Yet in that onset did such Vigour show,  
As to the Ground compelled his Armed Foe.  
Whom, as he Bleeding on the surface lay,  
His Victor thought more surely soon to slay.  
And nimbly lighting from his lofty Steed,  
Rejoyeed his Vengeance did Sans-Foy's exceed:  
Whose Ghost he said no more revenge should wait,  
Or to the Red-Cross Chief expect Death's Fate.  
Sans-Foy he killed, Sans-Loy his life shall take,  
And to Hell's Furies him an Offering make.  
Attempting next his Helmet to unlace,  
Till beauteous Una Mercy begged apace:  
Adding, that since his Enemy does yield  
By Arms his Prowess vanquished in Field,  
Too cruel 'twere more mortal him to wound,  
Whom of all Hero's she most faithful found.  
Yet could not these lamenting words assuage  
The fierce intendment of his mighty Rage:  
And pulling off the Helmet from his head,  
At one huge blow he meant to leave him dead.  
But when instead of him he did behold  
The hoary Head of Archimago old,  
Whose Charms and Person well to him were known,  
Not less he wondered than ashamed to own  
Th'encounter with that aged Man he sought,  
Whom, to wield arms, War's School had never taught:  
Saying, Vain Fool, by what frail Magic Art  
Were't thou allured to act a Champion's Part?  
Or couldst thou hope thy Spells could thee defend,  
When with the bold Sans-Loy thou didst contend;  
Who heretofore did Archimago call  
His Learned Friend, and pities now his Fall.  
I judged thee him whose Prowess I defied,  
Else ne'er my Arms thy feeble Strength had tried.  
Nothing he answered, like to one that lay  
In Trance, or could his life no longer stay.  
And thus this Champion left him on the Ground,  
Not further taking notice of his Wound:  
Vexed that he him the Red-Cross Chief believed,  
Or that his bold disguise his Arms deceived.  
But when he saw the beauteous Virgin stand  
Amazed to be thus mocked by Fates Command:  
Who from a feigned Resemblance had supposed  
Her truest Hero by best Stars disposed  
To find her in her solitary Course,  
Now aidless sees herself from human force.  
Which wounding thoughts she scarce revolved ere he  
Had seized her Person with rough Cruelty:  
And on her cleanly Garment taking hold,  
Dismounts her next her Visage to behold.  
Whilst her fierce Servant seeing his injured Dame,  
With open Mouth against th' Aggressor came;  
And ramping on his Shield, placed there his Paws,  
Intending it to rend with his strong Claws.  
But Lust and Courage joined, the Man availed  
Above the Lion's force, that him assailed:  
Who drawing of his mighty Sword, compelled  
The Prince of strength no more to gripe his Shield▪  
So vast his force, so skilled his warlike hand,  
As he this matchless Creature could withstand;  
Piercing his hardy Breast till from his Steel  
The vanquished Lion Pangs of Death did feel:  
When looking kindly on his Lady's Face,  
His dying Eyes for her sake wept apace:  
And shaking of the Earth with his last roar,  
Seemed to lament he could her serve no more.  
How then forlorn was left the Royal Maid,  
Or what could from this Conqueror's Will her aid?  
Her mighty Guardian slain by his strong hand,  
That could her Beauty for his Spoil command.  
Which, as a lawless Victor of the Field,  
With foul reproach he bids her soon to yield;  
And forcing her to mount his nimble Steed,  
In highest Fury on with her did speed.  
To stay which violence, with deep Grief and Tears  
She pressed her Sorrows on his stubborn Ears.  
What heart but his had not Compassion felt,  
By seeing the weeping Showers each step she spilt.  
Whilst nothing could his rancrous mind assuage,  
The Spurs of Lust still forwarding his rage.  
Her servile Beast, more sensible than he  
That thus inhuman forced her Misery,  
Followed as fast as his slow steps could move,  
Showing at once his Pity and his Love.  
Far had his grateful strength her person brought,  
And for his Burden now again her sought.  
When Man she feared the worst of Beasts to find,  
Whose Lust, when brutal, wildest is unkind.    

CANTO IU.  
The Argument.  

Duessa to Pride's house does lead  
The faithful Red-Cross Knight,  
Where to revenge a Brother dead,  
Sans-Joy moves him to fight.   

THe man that would his worth unblemished raise,  
And to Heroic Deeds annex his Praise.  
Ought to beware how his Affections range,  
Or by what wiles his Lover's part does change.  
Lest he unjustly should her Virtue blame,  
That first obliged his Love and warlike Flame.  
All which the Red-Cross Hero here befell,  
Howe'er besides his glorious Deeds excel.  
Who after virtuous Una he forsook,  
And in her stead the false Duessa took,  
(That with a counterfeited Face and Fame,  
Had given herself Fidessa's worthy Name)  
Was pleased to wander with this seeming Fair,  
Till they arrived where stately Buildings were;  
Whose glorious Structures did appear to be  
The Palace of some mighty Majesty.  
Towards which a broad Highway was seen to lead  
Where numerous Crowds by day and night did tread  
Like Passengers for Business do resort  
To Seats of Justice, or a Prince's Court.  
But few returned, whatever was their Case,  
Without scorned Poverty, or worse Disgrace;  
And ever after in a loathsome way,  
As foulest Beggars by the Hedges lay.  
Hither Duessa does this Hero guide,  
And hasts him as to this vile place they ride:  
Feigning her tender Person much diseased,  
Till that day's lingering time of Travel ceased▪  
And thus unto this Palace they arrived,  
That of squared Brick unmortered was contrived,  
To wonder high, yet neither broad nor strong,  
Whose walls, as if with Gold covered all along,  
So radiant were, as the rich Evening's Sky  
Appeared not half so glorious to the Eye.  
On them stood lofty Galleries and Towers,  
Full of large Windows, and delightful Bowers.  
And that Time might not unregarded flow,  
A Dial on the top day's hours did show.  
Full goodly looked this Structure in each part,  
And spoke the greatness of th' Inventer's Art  
Yet so frail did its vast Foundation stand,  
That on a Hill 'twas raised of fleeting Sand.  
Whilst every Breath of Heaven did seem to call  
Upon the tottering Bulk to hast its fall.  
Whose hinder Arch'tecture, that few could spy,  
Was ruinous old, but painted wondrously.  
Being entered, they directly forward pass,  
Each Gate to every Corner open was.  
Yet so committed to a Porter tall,  
Who none denied to enter Room or Hall.  
Where Ornaments of War and costly Sights,  
The strange Spectator's curious Eye delights.  
Tho greatest numbers hither did resort  
To view the Mistress of so bright a Court.  
Passing these Rooms they unto higher rise,  
And Presence-Chambers more their Sense surprise.  
To which, for Glory, Pleasure's highest Sphere,  
Or softest Persian Court could not compare.  
Nor less to admiration was beheld,  
How beauteous Persons in Attire excelled;  
That there resembled Lords and Ladies great,  
The filling Ornaments of Royal State.  
High above all a sumptuous Throne was seen,  
On which there sat a beauteous Maiden Queen:  
Adorned with Robes, and Gems, that shined as bright  
As Summer's Sun in his Meridian height.  
Yet all these Glories could but dimly share  
With Splendours by her Beams dispersed were.  
And like to Phaeton, Phoebus' fairest Son,  
That proudly sought his Father's Steeds to run,  
Till they enraged his Conduct did despise,  
And tossed his Person from the burning Skies.  
Here this ambitious Beauty would possess  
The haughty lustres of her Throne and Dress:  
Who sitting high, more highly guides her Look,  
As if her Beams no sight of Earth could brook.  
Nor ever would her scornful Eye incline,  
But to behold how charmingly did shine  
Her Form reflected from a Glass she bore  
In her right hand, herself thence to adore.  
Under whose proud Feet a monstrous Dragon lay,  
That seemed to watch her Looks and them obey.  
Daughter she was unto the King of Hell,  
But scorned her Parentage so low should dwell:  
And would by Birth, if possible, aspire  
Above Celestial Ruler for her Sire.  
So swelled the vastness of her haughty Mind,  
That neither Heaven or Hell her Pride confined.  
Whence Queen Lucifera some did her call,  
Yet rightly Kingdom she had none at all.  
Having usurped, with a tyrannic Hand,  
The mighty Sceptre she did then command.  
And subtly counselled by six Wizzards old,  
More artful did her lawless Rule uphold.  
Soon as did here the Red Cross Knight appear,  
And false Duessa seeming special fair.  
A gaudy Usher, Vanity by Name,  
To aid their Passage most officious came:  
And next conducts them to the sumptuous Throne,  
Where was this Queen of Pride and Beauty shown.  
Declaring there how far her Fame had spread,  
That, to admire her, Strangers thither led.  
With lofty Eyes, scarce deigning low to look  
And slightest Thanks she their Addresses took.  
And tho' they kneeled, scarce bade 'em to arise,  
Whilst her great Lords and Ladies did devise,  
How their proud Emulations might appear  
From Mien and Dress and curious ordered Hair.  
Yet more Duessa's welcome to express,  
They kindest Gallantries to her address;  
Who well unto this haughty Court was known:  
But to the Fairy Knight Caresses shown  
Far more remiss than he had hoped to find,  
Whose Deeds and Birth so famous him designed.  
When from her Throne did rise this stately Queen,  
And calls her Coach, to be as gaily seen.  
Which word pronounced, all soon for her make way:  
Whilst like Aurora's Purples her's display,  
When from the East she dawning-day does call.  
Thus passed this Queen her spacious Rooms and Hall,  
Where strait'ned Crowds did almost breathless gaze  
Upon her Splendours, which did all amaze.  
Being come without, she does her Coach ascend  
By aid of Cringing Gallants her attend.  
Which shined with Gold adorned, and Garlands fresh,  
As Flora wears in her choice Vernal Dress.  
Not Juno's brightest Chair, at which some tell  
The God's admire, could this Dame's Seat excel.  
Tho drawn with heavenly Peacock's wings displayed,  
And their proud Tails with Argos Eyes arrayed.  
Six Beasts of different kinds her proud Coach drew,  
On which her Ministers did mounted show.  
Of whom the first, to all the rest a Guide,  
Was Sloth, who on a heavy Ass did ride:  
His Habit Black, like Priest too coifed his head,  
And fat as Monk that never Mass had said.  
His hand a sullied Missale seemed to bear,  
Tho most, Monastic Ease employed his Care.  
And could not here uphold his drowsy Frame,  
T' observe or time, or way, as on he came.  
From worldly Cares he still himself would free,  
As if his Soul was total Piety:  
Yet never time of Riot did omit,  
How dull soe'er his Person moved or Wit.  
From which bad means, Disease his Body plies,  
And Rheum, like Mists, obscure his dropping Eyes.  
Yet must this lazy Servant foremost lead,  
As Idleness would always Pride precede.  
Next whom road Gluttony upon a Swine,  
His pampered Belly swollen with Meat and Wine  
His Eyes with fatness filled, his Purple Nose  
Studded with Pimples his rich Surfeits shows.  
Nis Neck, Crane-like, was rather tall than strong;  
And, as Lucullus wished, perceived long  
The Taste of pleasing Viands, whilst the Poor,  
With empty Stomaches left his hated Door.  
Who all the way, worse than his ridden Beast,  
Spewed up the Relics of a former Feast.  
For Coolness he in green Vine Leaves was clad,  
And on his head an Ivy Garland had:  
Yet still his Body grossest Sweat distilled,  
And though he eating rode could seem unfilled.  
Whose trembling hand did bear a liquored Cup,  
Of which his drunken Thirst did often sup.  
The meanest Monster of all human Race,  
Tho lavish Pride had here advanced his place.  
Next him did lustful Lechery appear  
Upon a whall-eyed Goat of coursest Hair;  
Which Creatures looks and heat might emblem'd tell  
Man's jealous Pangs, the Leacher's inward Hell.  
Who, though he course-complexioned here did look,  
Of fairest Ladies had smooth Kisses took;  
When finer Lips could no such Blessings taste,  
So oddly Venus rules below the waste.  
Fresh clothed in green he with this Crew did ride,  
Which Garment did his loathsome body hide.  
And in his hand a burning Heart he bore,  
By lustful Follies filled, and Oaths he swore.  
For false he was, and impious in his Lies,  
Yet subtly could by Looks fair Looks surprise.  
And read in Stories that adorned Love's Tales,  
Applies 'em to the Breast which he assails.  
Yet so inconstant was his wand'ring mind,  
That for fresh Lust he still new Love could find.  
And when he had deceived frail Woman's Heart,  
He thought his Charms outdid smooth Cupid's dart▪  
Tho Lewdness filled him with reproachful Pain,  
And thus road Lust third greatest of this Train.  
Next him lean Avarice did a Camel ride,  
Burdened by Trunks of Gold hung on each side.  
And in his Lap a heap of Coin he told,  
Who thought for Money Heaven was cheaply sold▪  
Accursed Usury being all his Trade,  
And Interest upon Interest heaviest laid.  
Nor rest by day or night could duly take,  
Frighted by causeless Fears for Money's sake.  
Whose wants had end but none his greedy mind,  
That from no lack of wealth still wealth designed.  
Near unto Death his pining Life was brought,  
He daily lessening of the Food it sought.  
But could at other Tables largest eat,  
When without charge of his he sneaked for Meat.  
A threadbare Coat and cobbled Shoes he wore,  
From his pinched Body's wants to raise his store.  
Yet Child had none or Kinsman to succeed,  
So far did Nature stint his impious Breed.  
The Curse of Riches his vexed Nerves could show,  
Through which a constant hungry Gout did flow.  
Fifth unto these was Envy mounted seen  
Upon a Wolf, his Visage pale and lean:  
Who wished, like Basilisks, his piercing sight  
Could kill all such as he at heart did spite.  
Within his Cankered Teeth and ven'mous Jaw  
A poisonous Toad he greedily did chaw.  
Whilst still his envious Bosom Malice fed,  
Which his despite at others Blessings bred.  
And wept because no cause of Grief he had,  
Being only at the harm of Mankind glad.  
Of various coloured Serge his Vest was made,  
On which by paint were many Eyes displayed.  
And as he road he hated to behold  
The covetous Man that next him Money told.  
Bad Men he envied, if by Ill they thrived,  
And against the happy good no less contrived.  
And when their Alms had hungry Bowels fed,  
He Ostentation That interpreted.  
Well done, or said, or what best Poets writ,  
He Critick-like designed to blast by wit.  
Such Place had Envy in this wondrous Sight,  
Yet this proud Queen and all with her durst spite.  
The sixth and last was Wrath's revengeful Frame,  
Who on a Lion surly moving came;  
Waving around his head a flaming Sword,  
Fierce was his Soul, his Deeds, and every word.  
Whose Eyes their furious Sparkles oft expelled,  
And sternly stared on all that him beheld.  
Yet was his Visage pale as person dead,  
Trembling through rage when Choler in him spread.  
One hasty hand his Dagger still did hold,  
And in a Garment stained with Blood scarce cold,  
He Ruffianlike appeared to the Eye:  
Nor cared how rashly by his force men die.  
But after his adviseless Anger past,  
He could sometimes repent his guilty haste.  
What can express the Mischief wrath attends,  
The Bane of Manners, and the loss of Friends?  
Smothering of Reason by its uncouth flame,  
And Strength impairs throughout the Body's frame.  
Th' internal Enemy of human Life,  
And with itself or others still at strife.  
Thus he appeared, and in the rear was seen  
Of vile Attendants on this impious Queen.  
To drive these Satan Coachman-like did ride,  
And his smart Whip to this slow Drift applied.  
Whilst heedless Sloth, that foremost led their course  
Stuck in the mire, though driven by Pluto's force.  
And as he fruitless whipped, or strained his Voice,  
Vast Crowds of People shouting did rejoice.  
But had they forward went, none could descry  
The way for Fogs still thicking to the Eye.  
Tho, for this hellish Triumph, all along  
Were scattered Skulls and Bones of bad men gone  
Thus far for solace moved this impious Court,  
Instead of Hell's Elysium here to sport.  
Where next unto Lucifera's stately Chair  
Sat false Duessa, yet appearing fair.  
Whilst the good Hero did himself restrain  
From being associate with this wicked Train.  
The haughty Queen diverted now abroad,  
Returns as fast as through this cumbered Road  
Hell's Conduct could her different cattle guide,  
Till she arrived unto her Court of Pride.  
Where all upon a solemn Champion gazed,  
Whose dismal Shield in Purple Letters blazed  
The great Sans-Ioy, who with resolved mind,  
And forethought Malice had Revenge designed.  
When soon disdain improved his bitter spite,  
As of the Red-Cross Hero he took sight.  
And saw his Page bearing the vanquished Shield  
Of his great Pagan Brother slain in field.  
To whom he sudden leapt, and with bold hand  
That Trophy seized, as soon him to withstand  
The daring Red-Cross Knight applied his force:  
And thus both struggled, till in Martial Course  
Their brandished Swords and Armour clashed so loud,  
As struck amazement on the observing Crowd.  
When the proud Queen, upon severest Pain,  
Commands that here their Fury they restrain:  
Saying, if either to the Shield had right,  
They should have leave in Lists next day to fight.  
Pardon, great Queen, the bold Sans-Ioy replied,  
If powerful Passion did me rudely guide  
Beyond the steady strength of Reason's sway,  
And before you whom least I'd disobey.  
Whilst I beheld the treacherous Man appear,  
Who murdered famed Sans-Foy, my Brother dear:  
Whose approved Prowess and successful Hand,  
No Hero's force could ever yet withstand.  
Tho his mean Foe my Brother's fame to spite,  
Has here exposed his Shield reversed to sight.  
And what adds nobler scorn unto my thought,  
His Lady's hither by him Captive brought.  
Which in the fair Fidessa you behold;  
Can friend thus grieved for friend revenge withhold  
To this the Red-Cross Knight did nought reply,  
Resolved by Arms his just defence to try.  
And throwing his Gauntlet as his Honour's gage,  
To next day's Combat both deferred their rage.  
Till when, in Rooms and Bowers of most delight,  
They filled their Souls with revelling that Night.  
And after lavish Viands them had cloyed,  
On stately Couches they with Ladies toyed.  
Yet could not this proud Court's alluring ease  
The Red-Cross Hero or Sans-Ioy appease.  
Who in the midst of all their Passions thought  
How next day's Combat might be bravest fought.  
Till drowsy Morphaeus with his Leaden Mace  
Had Eyes inclined to sleep within this place:  
And both these Warriors were to Rooms retired,  
For costly Beds and Ornaments admired.  
Whilst vile Duessa impiously arose,  
And to the bold Sans-Ioy's Apartment goes.  
Whom waking found, like one that did disdain  
His Body's rest till his Foe fought or slain,  
She strives to quicken his revengeful Mind,  
With subtlest Speech unto her Tears adjoined:  
Saying, Behold Fidessa does appear,  
By thy slain Brother famed Sans-Foy held dear.  
Arms him renowned, and my Love for his sake  
Would Vengeance with a Woman's fury take.  
But what needs this unto Sans-Ioy be told,  
As fully great as his late Brother souled.  
That were he living, and your Rival now,  
'Twould Honour pose which to prefer of you.  
His likeness in you does renew my Grief,  
Whilst Love, for his sake, from you hopes Relief.  
Which said, he gently yields himself to hear  
The weighty Grief which her Soul seemed to bear.  
Who softly sighing, soon to him expressed  
Her sad distemper in her Love distressed.  
And how Fate mingled to her bitter smart,  
A sourer Grief than e'er pierced tender Heart:  
Which in my loss of dear Sans-Foy I found,  
To mourn whose Fall my Soul is ever bound.  
His many perils I concluded passed,  
And hoped Love's quiet should bless both at last.  
Whilst angry Stars the most unhappy way,  
Decreed me wretched on his fatal Day.  
When by a worthless Victor he was slain,  
That me, a harmless Virgin, did detain;  
And for denying his Love's vile intent,  
Made a dark Cave my sad Imprisonment.  
This usage suffered, he next yields to try  
If Courtship could my gentle Soul comply:  
Or tempt me to forget my former flames,  
Which now find Comfort from your gracious beams.  
Your Brother's worth and lineage shines in you,  
With all Attractions Love inviteth too.  
Aid then his Lover, ere his Ghost does call  
Your Valour to revenge his deplored Fall.  
Fairest, said he, let me your Grief dissuade,  
Which ought, for Fate that's past, to be allayed.  
Nor present danger need you apprehend,  
Whilst in my Brother's stead I'll you befriend.  
His vital Pains in his past life are gone,  
Howe'er his Ghost his body's death bemoan:  
Till I enforce his hated Foe to bleed,  
And yield my Vengeance just of his black deed.  
O, but I fear, says she, the fickle chance  
Which Fortune oft unkindly does advance.  
Besides 'tis known he wears a charmed Shield,  
Already proved impenetrable in Field.  
Charmed let him be with all that Magic can  
Bestow for safety upon timorous Man:  
Trust your Sans-Ioy, it shall not him defend,  
Let this your Womanish Fears, for my sake, end.  
But, fair Fidessa, if by Fortune's fault,  
Or power of Arms you late were Captive brought.  
Submit a while to his pretended claim,  
Since you his beauteous Prisoner hither came.  
This till to morrow I require you do,  
When my Arms shall the Red-Cross Knight subdue▪  
Ah me, she answered, most unhappy Maid,  
That must see him whose Looks make me afraid.  
And though by your Command I now retire,  
My kindest thoughts shall for you still conspire.    

CANTO V.  
The Argument.  

The faithful Knight in Martial Field  
Subdues his faithless Foe;  
Whom false Duessa help to yield,  
For Cure to Hell does go.   

WHat heart soe'er doth nourish virtuous thought  
Will seldom rest till forth the Features brought  
By glorious action, and conspicuous fame,  
That longest live upon Heroic Name.  
Such noble Passion did employ all night  
Th' illustrious Courage of the Red-Cross Knight.  
Devising how he bravest might accost  
The bold Sans-Ioy, who Prowess made his boast.  
Until day opened the bright Eastern Gate,  
Whence Phoebus, like a Bridegroom to his Mate,  
Came dancing forth, and shook his dewy Hair,  
Fitting his Beams to spread through Skies and Air.  
Which as the watchful Hero had beheld,  
He started up, and decked with Arms and Shield:  
Like young Apollo shined when going to fight  
The Monster that Heaven's power and his durst slight.  
And thus walked down unto the Common Hall,  
His gracious person there admired by all:  
Where crowds did wait these stranger-Knights to see,  
And what in Combat either's Fate might be.  
Arround this spacious Room did Consorts play,  
That softest might drive saddest Time away:  
Besides such Bards that to the tuneful String,  
Could Lovers famous deeds divinest sing.  
When in tough Mail, and handing of his Spear,  
The lofty Sarazen does next appear:  
And sternly looked on the Red-Cross Knight,  
Who scorned to flinch at Man's most daring sight.  
To both, by order, lusty Wine was brought,  
With best Spice mingled from far India sought:  
And having drank, by vigorous Bacchus they  
Vowed to observe the Law of Arms that day.  
When forth does move the far renowned Queen,  
In Pomp attended to a paled Green;  
Where under a rich Canopy she sat  
T'observe these Hero's and each Martial Feat.  
On t'other side was false Duessa placed,  
Whose Splendours, next the Queen's, this presence graced.  
Whilst on a Tree whose Branches spread the field,  
To all their sights hung Sans-Foy's bloody Shield.  
Which from these Lists the Conqueror's Sword might claim  
And what's more prized, a trophied Lovers fame:  
Who with bold Right Duessa should enjoy,  
Like Helen fought for by the Brave at Troy.  
To combat then a Trumpet calls on high;  
Which heard, their Shields above their Wrists they tie.  
And looking upwards their bright Swords they wave'  
For happy Omen ere the On-set's gave.  
And next so home disposed each mighty Blow,  
That deep Impressions on their Armour show.  
Great was the Pagan's Strength and Skill in Arms,  
And now inflamed by fair Duessa's Charms:  
His strokes like Hammers seemed on Steel to beat,  
As he strove here his Rival to defeat.  
Tho to requite him, still the youthful Knight  
Gave Blows as loudly sounded in this Fight.  
Thus stroke for stroke did Shields and Helmet show,  
When swift as Lightning flames around them flew.  
Hardy alike the Combat both prolong,  
Tho one Cause rightful was, and t'other wrong.  
As when a Griffon, having seized his Prey,  
Meets with a Dragon it would rend away;  
The furious Creatures one another smite,  
Whilst Soothsayers, Fate-foretel, that see the sight.  
And as thus here these mighty Champions fought,  
Their piercing Steel such bloody passage wrought:  
That sanguine streams from their deep wounds did flow,  
And died their Arms late Silver bright did show.  
Which so great sorrow to beholders gave,  
As they wished neither's force should Conquest have.  
And now the haughty Sarazen beheld  
The Tree on which was hung his Brother's Shield.  
Which seen, his rage improved like spreading fire;  
Saying, O hapless Issue of brave Sire;  
So mournful long to wait by Stygian Lake  
ere Death an impious Ghost thy Foe does make.  
Know hated Knight, thy Soul to him shall bear  
The wished Novel of his Revenger here.  
And that by Prowess I redeemed his Shield,  
As by my hand thou diest o'ercome in field.  
Therewith his Foes tough Crest so hard he struck,  
That twice he reeled, as if life him forsook.  
At which the forward Looker's on concede,  
That in these Lists he bravest would succeed.  
Whilst his bold glory higher to Renown,  
Duessa grants herself and day his own.  
Like one from Trance, the amorous Red-Cross Knight,  
Hearing those words, his Soul does rouse to fight.  
Far more disdaining by this bloody strife  
To yield his Lady, than to lose his life.  
And though wounds had his body's strength made weak:  
Love Shame and Wrath such reinforcements make,  
That to his Foe so vast a blow he gave,  
As on his Knee he stooped his life to save.  
Then said, Proud Miscreant, let thy Spirit show  
Thy death unto thy Brother's Ghost below:  
Tell him that from these Lists I'll bear his Shield,  
With his wone Lady once again in field.  
In shades he wanders wanting thee too long:  
But why do I by Speech thy life prolong?  
And at these words his Arm he raised high,  
Resolved that blow should end his Enemy.  
When unto wonder such a mist did rise,  
As hid the vanquished Sans-Ioy from his Eyes.  
Prevented thus, he summons him aloud:  
Next strives to find him in this horrid Cloud.  
In haste then moves Duessa from her place,  
And with kind Beams his Valour seemed to grace:  
Telling this Knight 'twas fruitless to employ  
His search for him he could not now destroy:  
Which Fate decreed, and the Infernal Powers,  
That had removed his Foe to Pluto's Bowers:  
Whilst this day's Glory I must yours avow,  
And more my Love, if that you value now.  
Not all this beauteous Flatterer did say,  
His resolute search and fury could allay;  
Who in that darkness whisked his Sword around,  
In hope to kill his Enemy e'er found.  
Till fully at his Foe's escape amazed,  
He Trumpets heard that him sole Victor blazed.  
With which loud Glory he attends the Queen,  
And falling low presents his Prowess seen  
To her acceptance, which she kindly owns,  
And by her glorious Praise his Deeds renowns.  
Next, with him moves unto her splendid Court,  
Whilst Crowds applaud his Valour's high effort  
With Shouts and Clap that ascend so high,  
As they forced Echoes from the concave Sky.  
Thus to her Palace brought and laid in Bed,  
Unto his wounds were Remedies applied  
By Balms that could most sovereign heal or stay  
Blood, which from his pierced body sought its way.  
And as his wounds were curing had his Ear  
With Music filled, to ease his Pains and Care.  
When vile Duessa to dissemble Tears,  
Wept as if Love's soft Passion caused her Fears.  
Or as the flattering Crocodile does spill  
Drops to allure the man he means to kill:  
Th' unwary Passenger endangered finds,  
That Tears are but the Snares of cruel Minds.  
And blames the foolish pity by him took  
From this false Creature's cous'ning Drops and Look▪  
And thus Duessa, with dissembling Eyes,  
Wept until Evening Stars began to rise.  
Then forth she goes unto her heathen Knight,  
By Magic sheltered from his Foe's fierce sight.  
Where in a horrid Trance the man she left,  
Whom Blows and Wounds almost of life bereft.  
Yet now to grieve for him she would not stay,  
But to the Eastern Coast does speed her way:  
Till come unto the Palace of Night's Queen,  
In which no beam of Light was ever seen:  
Where in a foul and pitchy Garment clad,  
She finds her moving from her darksome Bed.  
When at her Gate her Iron Chariot stood,  
Furnished with coalblack Steeds of hellish Blood.  
And gnawed their rusty Bits, in haste to rise,  
By her Command, unto supremest Skies.  
Who as she here Duessa did behold  
In shining Tires adorned with Gems and Gold:  
And deemed that from the Lustres of her Face,  
She was allied to Stars of brightest Race.  
Like to some Fiend that vanisheth from sight,  
The dark Queen had declined Duessa's sight:  
Had the Witch not besought her to allay  
Her busy Fears, and hear what she would say.  
Appeased thus, she bids her to relate  
The cause that moved her on Night's Queen to wait.  
When soon the Hag her mightiness cajoled,  
Calling her Great before the World was souled:  
Or heavenly Body influenced shining Ray,  
That o'er long Chaos ceased her Sceptres sway.  
And can she suffer lives should be betrayed,  
Whose deeds have her dark Conduct most obeyed?  
Whilst now her loved Sans-Ioy in shade does lie,  
And by his Brother's Murderer like to die.  
Too late, alas! my grieved Eyes beheld  
The cruel Knight that killed Sans-Foy in field:  
Leaving his comely Body to be tore  
By ravenous Fowl, and Beasts for hunger roar.  
Who, after this, will not thy Sceptre scorn,  
If thy brave Allies thou shalt yield forlorn:  
And not assist the Relics of thy Race,  
Till with bright day be intermixed thy place:  
And no more Children of the light pretend,  
That their serenest deeds can them defend?  
These words had this dark Parent somewhat moved  
Thomas, of all Passions, she least Pity loved.  
And said, Dear Daughter, duly I lament,  
When against my Kindred cruel Fate is bend.  
But what can Power of Destiny defeat,  
So firmly linked to Jove's Eternal Seat?  
The Sons of Day he favoureth I find,  
And to my loss their Greatness has designed.  
Yet shall not all my dark Revenge escape,  
Nor that bold Knight whose bloody force and rape  
Took from Sans-Foy his Glory with his Life,  
And for his Brother's Fall next bend his strife.  
But what art thou these deeds dost now relate,  
And cravest avengement of my Kindred's Fate?  
Dark Queen, says she, Duessa is my Name,  
The well known Daughter of Deceit and Shame:  
How gorgeous ere I now appear arrayed.  
Which heard, Night's Sovereign her embracing said,  
In thy feigned looks, Duessa, I behold  
Crimes of more lustre than the purest Gold.  
Which beauteous Cunning in thy glorious Face,  
Amazed me when first seen in this dark place;  
Where ancient Mother of Deceit I sit,  
And welcome thee best Child of wicked Wit.  
Then to her Iron Chariot does ascend,  
And next her placeth this well-favoured Fiend.  
Four Steeds her person of vast bigness drew,  
Of Colour dark, yet of a different hue:  
Which through Air's regions smoothly sped her way▪  
But when she pulled a Rein their haste to stay;  
Their hardy Mouths their Bridles strove to rend,  
Whilst their rough Jaws foam like to Tarr expend▪  
And now, uncurbed their speed, she forward drives  
And soon unto the wondrous Place arrives;  
Where famed Sans-Ioy, though hid by Magic Art,  
Lay void of motion from each vital part.  
His native Blood by cruel wounds congealed:  
Which seen, they pondered how he might be healed▪  
And next in this dark Chariot softly lay  
His feeble person till they drove away.  
Soon as Night's Sovereign stood upon the earth,  
The Surface groaned as at an Earthquake's Birth.  
And furious Dogs and Wolves did loudest howl,  
As screeching flew the ominous boding Owl.  
No less disturbed at her dark grizly look,  
Than at th' unwonted drift she hither took.  
Next back she turns with soft and silent pace,  
Till brought his heavy Corpse unto the place;  
Where black Avernus' mouth does widest gape,  
Since Pluto seized fair Proserpina by Rape.  
Descending here by sulphurous ways they come  
T'abodes, in which Ghosts hear and feel Hell's doom  
Whence none, till broke their Chains, to earth arise▪  
Or with their ghastly shapes fright human Eyes.  
In every station they heard Fiends lament,  
As hot or cold Extremes did them torment:  
Who from continual Pains, and worst Despair,  
Cursed Heaven because in Hell they hopeless were.  
Passed these, they moved to more infernal Strands,  
To guard which Cerberus triple headed stands,  
His Body round with ven'mous Adders hung,  
And snarling lilled his flaming bloody Tongue;  
As near to him this wondrous Chariot came,  
Not judging it contained Night's mighty Dame:  
Which when discerned, his fury he abates,  
And like a fawning Cur upon her waits.  
Since well he knew her sceptre's vast Commands  
Was owned by darkest powers on Stygian Strands.  
Then on she drives, where, turned upon a Wheel▪  
Ixion for ever giddiness shall feel.  
And Sisyphus, that must be rolling still  
A stone above his strength against a Hill.  
Not far from these does thirsty Tantalus stand  
In water deep, but can no drop command.  
Near whom lay Tityrus, on whose wretched Maw,  
Th' insatiate Vulture will for ever gnaw.  
Typhaeus too, whose L●mbs with utmost Pain  
Stretched by Hell's wrack perpetual so remain.  
Next these the fifty restless Sisters were,  
That water strove in leaky Pales to bear.  
And Theseus, who for wandering Crimes must be  
A mournful Sitter to Eternity.  
This drift beheld, and bright Duessa's Face,  
They Works and Postures ceased to gaze a space:  
As if they hoped from seeing mortal Eyes,  
A sooner Period of their Miseries.  
Arrived at last to Hell's remotest part,  
They found a Cave formed by infernal Art;  
Deep, dark, and grievous, where in Fetters lay  
Famed Aesculapius from his dying-day:  
Because by wondrous Cure he did restore  
The brave Hippolytus when dead before.  
This famous Youth who in bold Sports had proved  
His Prime and Glory, was too fatal loved.  
Whose Beauty so had conquered Woman's Soul,  
That his false Stepdame could not hers control.  
But when she found her offered Lip refused,  
She soon his jealous Parent next abused.  
Letting him know, with tears and words well feigned,  
That this Youth would his Father's bed have stained.  
Who full of Rage, his Sea-God Sire besought,  
That vengeance might upon his Son be brought.  
When from the Ocean two vast Monsters rose,  
And in his Hunting-Chariot him oppose.  
Which gave his chase Steeds such strange affright,  
As they destroyed their Master by their flight.  
His comely body into pieces tore,  
And left upon a Rock near Paphos shore.  
Whose wicked Stepdame having heard his Fate,  
Reputes, and kills her wicked self too late.  
Which understood, the hasty Sire with Tears  
Began to rend his Lips and aged Hairs.  
Till chaste Diana, pitying his sad Grief,  
Brought him to Aesculapius for Relief;  
Whose admired Art did the torn Youth restore  
To life completely as he lived before.  
When jove considering this stupendious Fact,  
He held it, too like God, for Man to act:  
And in his sury next the Man does throw  
Wounded to Hell by his fierce Thunder-blow:  
Where long he strove from powerful Salves to ease  
His burning Pains, and angry Heaven appease.  
Arrived to him, the dark Queen does alight,  
And as his Patient shows the wounded Knight;  
Taking off softly his most weighty Arms,  
Declaring next with grief his dismal harms.  
Great Dame, says he, thou temptest me in vain,  
That for restoring life feel endless pain.  
Hipol'tus Cure produced my fatal Fame,  
Nor must I do for Hero now the same:  
Unless Heaven's Vengeance I'd provoke once more,  
Or in this sad Abyss worse griefs deplore.  
Which heard, she frowning called it needless Fear,  
Since jove could not his Sufferings further here.  
From hope of Heaven he hath excluded thee,  
What can be more thy infelicity?  
Grant then to me, the Mistress of Night's hours,  
Th' assistance of thy Medicinal Powers.  
And to Art's Patron great Apollo show,  
That thy skill, by thy Ghost, can cure below.  
Her words prevailed, and next he lifts from ground  
The dead Sans-Ioy, and to each mortal Wound  
His life-restoring Medicines applies:  
Which done, the Queen away her Chariot drives  
To finish her night's Course, before the Sun  
His Steeds, by Western waves refreshed, shall run.  
And vile Duessa, who from Magic Spell,  
Could find her way thro' Avenu's of Hell:  
In haste arriveth to Pride's Court again,  
Hoping her deceived Knight did there remain.  
But e'er she came, this Hero cause had found  
To move his person, though not healed his wound.  
Which howe'er painful, soon he mounts his Steed,  
Prepared in Soul for what could worst succeed.  
His wary Dwarf first having to him told,  
How in a Dungeon deep he did behold  
Numbers of Men that there enthralled lay,  
And did lament their Fates both night and day.  
The Cause, he said, was their aspiring Will,  
And thirst to exceed all in doing iii.  
Which competition, much this Queen disdained,  
Judging it touched the Empire she maintained:  
And next condemned by her usurping Pride,  
Wretched they lived, and dead so here abide.  
The highest Potentates the world e'er knew,  
For boundless Treasure and Dominion too:  
With such against Heaven were at profanest odds,  
By setting up themselves instead of Gods;  
Were all within this loathed Prison seen:  
And such of t'other Sex, who like this Queen,  
Tyrannic power too haughtily had raised,  
And for their lustful Wills would next be praised.  
But most of these, which in this Dungeon lay,  
Were such as fell from Courts the vainest way:  
Having first spent their Treasure and their Time,  
By delicate pampering each luxurious Crime.  
Whose Carcases in heaps apart were thrown:  
Which when the Dwarf had to his Master shown,  
They by a secret Postern-door took flight,  
And both had died if any watchful sight  
About this Palace had beheld their way;  
Tho for much hindrance all around them lay  
The numerous Corpse and Bones of murdered dead,  
O'er which the Hero's Horse with fear did tread:  
Till hasting of his steps with Spurs and Rein,  
From this cursed house of Pride they speed amain.    

CANTO VI.  
The Argument.  

By wondrous means from lustful power  
Fair Una is relieved,  
Whom savage Nations next adore,  
And learn Faith she believed.   

AS when some well built Ship is under sail,  
And wings the Ocean with a wished-for Gale:  
Till unawares she touches on a Rock,  
Her Pilot wondering how she scaped the shock.  
And though rejoiced is troubled to concede,  
That Fortune more than Conduct was his aid.  
So does the dreadless Red-Cross Knight appear  
Glad, yet regreting his misguided Care.  
And sorry was his haste proved so unkind,  
In having fair Duessa left behind.  
But more concerned as he revolved the thought  
Of beauteous Una charged with foulest fault.  
Tho Crime in her no man could ever prove,  
Howe'er defamed her more than spotless Love.  
Guided by which she farthest travel takes,  
Till fierce Sans Loy her unawares o'ertakes:  
Who after Archimago's slight defeat,  
Had led her far to quench his lustful heat.  
Where first he tries by Treaty to obtain  
The stubborn Fort, he hardly could constrain.  
Well knowing that Courtship, like an Act of Grace,  
Admission gains where force could ne'er have place  
And thus by amorous words, looks, sighs, a while  
He sought her refined temper to beguile.  
Tho these she deems as Cupid's specious Baits,  
By which the Lover oft his Mistress cheats.  
And like a Rock of Diamond, firm and clear,  
Resolves her shining Virtue shall appear.  
Whilst he his lustful Eye on her to place,  
Removes the Veil that hid her modest Face:  
Whose Splendours seen, his Lust took swifter fire,  
And joins to sudden rage his foul Desire.  
Hoping by horrid violence to be  
Despoiler of her richest Chastity.  
Could Heaven's discernment this vile deed perceive,  
And her Celestial Virtue not relieve?  
Tho stored above with Thunderbolts that kill  
Things that ne'er act, nor meditate on iii.  
The piteous Maid, with more than Woman's power,  
Still strives to keep unstained her Virgin Flower:  
And when by struggling she finds strength abate,  
Like Damsel in her comfortless Estate,  
Her piercing shrieks the Echoes round awake,  
That like chaste Nymphs the sad Alarm take.  
Whilst Stars did yield to drop from Skies their tears,  
As Phoebus bids Clouds weep, and disappears:  
Ashamed his brightness should beam-forth that hour,  
And not protect her Splendours by his power.  
But Providence, an unexpected way,  
Redeems from his strong gripes the lovely Prey:  
As her most grievous Out-cries spread their sound  
Where Fawns and Satyrs danced with Joy around  
Their old Silvanus sleeping in a shade:  
And heard the grievous Cries for help she made.  
At which disturbed, their rural Mirth they cease,  
And in a monstrous Rabble find the place.  
Whom when the impious Sarazen beheld,  
He frighted by their horrid shapes withheld  
His Lust's design, and mounting of his Steed,  
Flies, and still fears lest they o'ertake his speed.  
These wild Wood-gods, when seen her beauteous frame,  
And Vesture ruffled by his savage flame:  
Her weeping Eyes, and her dishevelled Hair,  
Trembling like finest Gossamor's in Air:  
Stand all astonished at this uncouth sight,  
And with their rude Eyes pity her sad plight.  
The peerless Virgin more than they amazed,  
Had on their strange appearing figures gazed.  
And every tender part about her shook,  
Like to a Lamb far from the Flock is took  
By some fierce Wolf, which when a Leopard spies,  
Soon t'other leaves his prey to him and flies.  
Th'innocent Creature trembling by each Limb,  
Beholds a shape succeed that looks more grim.  
Such various Apprehensions seized her mind,  
As she no power to speak or move could find.  
This monstrous Nation viewing her doleful Face,  
To their wild sense join pity of her case.  
And though their rugged Brows and Horns did fright  
All other Mortals that of them had sight:  
Their rigid frowns, for her sake, they dispel,  
And by kind grinning their meant gladness tell.  
And to assure that they would her obey,  
Their rough Knees bend and her soft duty pay.  
The doubtful Lady dares not yet commit  
Her person to their barbarous Truth or Wit:  
Nor does forget her too late hasty Trust,  
Or what she'ad heard of Satyrs and their Lust.  
Whilst they more Signs to her of sorrow show:  
And to her, as some rural Goddess, bow.  
Next prostrate lie, and humbly kiss her Feet,  
To show they'd her with gentlest Service greet.  
Their speechless meaning she begins to guests,  
And thinks 'em kind from Tokens they express.  
When from the ground she fearless does arise,  
And with calm looks beholds their wildest Eyes.  
They glad as Birds that do perceive the Spring,  
About her dance, and their best measures sing.  
Then shouting strew green Branches on the ground,  
And own her Queen with Olive Garlands crowned.  
Thus they in joyful Triumph forward move,  
Enforcing Echoes from each Stream and Grove.  
And with their horned Feet the earth do wear,  
Leaping like wanton Kids when Summer's near.  
So they her towards their old Sylvanus bring,  
Who waked with noise and tunes they shrilly sing:  
To know the cause in haste he does arise,  
And round his Waste his Ivy Girdle ties.  
A Cyprus staff his aged Limbs supports,  
And walks in fear lest some licentious Sports,  
Or Juice of Vines his Sylvan Nation fired,  
And them, without his leave, to Mirth inspired.  
Being near approached they her to him present,  
For Truth and Beauty more than excellent.  
Their ancient God admiring stood a space,  
As he beheld the wonders of her Face.  
His Cyparissus, and most lovely Boy,  
Whom oft he'ad pleased with Tales more old than Troy.  
And for his long lost life had Ages pined:  
Her blooming looks him of that youth remind.  
The rural Nymphs, invited by the noise,  
In leafy Mantles came to mingle Joys.  
But having well beheld her comely Face,  
Like Rivals feared lest hers would theirs disgrace.  
And flying from her sight with nimblest speed,  
No footsteps left on Grass or yielding Reed.  
Whilst Herds of Satyrs of the ruffest kind,  
Hoped that, instead of them, she'd stay behind.  
And so devoted did around her stand,  
As they watched Precepts from her Eye or Hand.  
Confirmed thus, this most distressed Maid  
To please their rustic Eyes long time here stayed.  
Judging it gave her Sorrows some redress,  
To live where human kind had least access.  
And to requite their kindness to her shown,  
She full declares best Truth to them unknown.  
Teaching how vain their Worship to her seemed,  
That had her person for their Idol deemed.  
But when she would this Zeal of theirs restrain,  
Her Ass instead of her they'd worship fain.  
Whilst she their brutish Ignorance does oppose,  
And to immortal things their Minds dispose.  
In which conjuncture to this Forest came  
A warlike Knight, of far reputed Fame:  
Who here by bold Adventure hoped to see  
The strange Alliance of his Pedigree.  
Plain, just, and brave was he, howe'er begot,  
And without Lust, sometimes the Hero's Spot.  
In no vainglorious Lists did he delight,  
Yet fiercest would for injured Woman fight.  
'Twas said his Sire prodigious was by Blood,  
And him begot on Lady in this Wood  
Who for some Enterprise unknown to Fame,  
A lovely wanderer to these Wood-lands came.  
Where, on a Swain, instead of Guide she lights,  
And by constraint to him her Beauty plights.  
He rudely bred, and filled with her embrace,  
Delights her softness less than hardy chase  
Of Boar, or Wolf, and thus both night and day,  
Too long presumed from her smooth Lips to stay.  
The forlorn Lady burning with desire  
To find her Swain, and quench Love's earnest Fire;  
Through vastest Coverts like a Wood-Nymph flies:  
And where the tread of Dog or Beast she spies,  
With utmost speed she that way next does run,  
Hoping to find him ere his Chase was done.  
When a brisk satire chanced his Horn to wind,  
Who in that Art excelled above his kind.  
The amorous Lady harkened to the sound,  
And hoped by it her loved Swain to have found.  
Panting with haste she towards the Goblin flies,  
Scarce hiding by her loose Attire her Thighs.  
The inflamed satire glad of her mistake,  
Within his lustful Clutches her does take;  
And captive in a secret Cabin held,  
Till Time, a Boy whom he begot compelled  
To quit her Womb: then lets the Mother know,  
That leaving him the Child, she home might go.  
This Ransom left, she quits his wild abode,  
And in Groves wanders far from beaten Road.  
The Boy he careful kept, and as he grew,  
Taught him his Nation's Manners well to know.  
But most instructed him to banish fear,  
Whether the Lion he assailed or Bear.  
Wild roaring Bulls he learned him how to tame,  
Or kill them baited as his furious Game.  
And that his heels the nimblest haste might make,  
He showed him how swift Roes to overtake:  
Or fiercest Beast from him would yield to fly,  
Whether his Face by day or night they spy.  
So terrible to Creatures he appeared,  
As his fierce Sire, at last, his Visage feared.  
And trembling wished he'ad ne'er him shown his Art,  
Or in his fierce begetting had a part.  
Advising him not to slight Beasts of prey,  
Nor rashly to engage them to obey.  
Whilst Panthers, Leopard's he would often yoke,  
And drive them in a Team like Colts new broke.  
And had their stubborn Hearts so fearless quelled,  
That they him as their Nature's Tyrant held.  
His lovely Mother found him on a day,  
As he from Dens of Beasts returned that way:  
When after him a Lioness did roar  
For her cursed Whelps which in his Arms he bore.  
The fearful Dame amazed at this sight,  
From him had fled, had not Love stayed her flight.  
Yet did from highest horror doubt a while,  
Whether 'twas safe for her to blame his Toil.  
At last she these indulgent words did say,  
Ah Satyran! if thou lov'st me find Play  
Far gentler for thy youthful years than this,  
And mildly look, if thou'dst thy Mother kiss.  
More she had said, but found no words could bend  
His hardy mind, enured to contend  
With fiercest Creatures Woods or Deserts range,  
Till manly years and Glory wrought his change.  
When 'twas his manner still, as Fortune's smiles,  
Wone by Achievements, had indulged his Toils:  
Unto this Forest calmly to retire,  
And there pay duty to his wondrous Sire.  
And now on like intent was thither come,  
Pleased to behold his native Wood-land home.  
Remembering there each Den and covert Place,  
Whence his wild Courage forced the fiercest Chase.  
But when accomplished his Manhood year,  
He soon resolved that him bad men should fear.  
Passing thus on, he saw a Plain's wide Green,  
In which by him around were Satyrs seen:  
Amidst whose numbers beauteous Una stood,  
Divinely teaching everlasting Good.  
Much he admired her Features, Wit, and Mien,  
Like which in Woman he had never seen.  
Nor wonders less by what Fate she arrived  
To Woods, where cruel Beasts and Satyrs lived.  
And more than wonderful, had there reclaimed  
Creatures by Lust most sensually inflam'd.  
And next, to her his Courtship does apply,  
Vowing, to serve her worth, he'd gladly die.  
Whilst she full constant to her Red-Cross Knight,  
Pitied his Troubles, and desired his sight.  
And though he absent, still her faithful Mind  
Unto her Soul his perfect Figure joined.  
But when she did in Satyran perceive  
A firm desire her Sorrows to relieve;  
She told him secretly her Love's intent,  
And how to leave these wild Abodes she meant.  
Much he rejoyeed to hear what she expressed,  
And for her Conduct his bold self addressed.  
A time it was when Satyrs did resort  
To old Silvanus at his shady Court:  
Having in haste the Virgin left alone,  
And missed her not till she too far was gone.  
By this plain Champion's stubborn Courage led  
Through Regious that most lustful Satyrs bred.  
And where his hardy mind and strength had tamed  
Monsters of Men and Beasts when worst inflamed.  
With which bold Guide, most of the lingering day  
She journeyed had, till meeting in the way  
A Traveller that weary did appear,  
And seeing them in haste approach him near:  
Turned as if he their presence did avoid,  
Like one that would unknown have kept his Road.  
Mean were his Clothes, with dust his Visage soiled,  
And looked with Heat and Travel over-toiled.  
Upon his Back a homely Scrip he bore,  
And on his Feet the meanest Sandals wore.  
A Iacob's Staff his Hand and Steps did aid,  
And was in all things, Vagrant-like, arrayed.  
Of him bold Satyran desired to know,  
How News of Martial Deeds abroad did go.  
To which he answered, That he knew of none,  
And seemed desirous to be moving on.  
But beauteous Una, who could ne'er remove  
From her soft mind the Fears produced by Love.  
Enquired what of her Red-Cross Knight he heard;  
Or if good Tidings him alive declared?  
Ah me, says he, that you should seek to know  
Things, that when known will soon increase your woe.  
Whilst I lament that ere my Eyes beheld  
Your best loved Knight to bloody death compelled.  
Which words pronounced, like rivulets closed by frost,  
Her tears, within her Eyes their springs, seemed lost.  
And sudden horror every Sense so chilled,  
As down she fell, like one whom Grief had killed.  
Her Champion gently takes her up from ground,  
And bowing her Body some life in her found:  
Which seen, he utters for her fair relief,  
Words of best hope to palliate her Grief.  
Whilst as her strength was by degrees restored,  
She still her Lover's loss afresh deplored.  
Yet finding that she lived, she bids the man  
Perfect the Story which he had began.  
Being full prepared by him to hear the worst,  
Nor could his last sad words exceed his first.  
Then thus continued he, This day I stayed  
Where two Knights were in Combat fierce engaged:  
Both breathing Vengeance, both of mighty force,  
Whilst trembling I beheld their furious course  
Whose Swords, though Blood imbrued, still fought for more,  
Until their Arms and Shields were died with gore.  
Yet on they pushed, when the strong Pagan struck  
A blow, that from your Knight his bold life took.  
Alas! said she, and did my Hero die,  
Tho best of Men, by Pagan Cruelty?  
And I not kiss his dead, or dying Face,  
Or give his Corpse my saddest last Embrace.  
This heard, with high concern fierce Satyran  
Asked hastily of that feigned Pilgrim Man,  
If known to him what way he passed or dwelled,  
That caused the Grief which tender Una felt.  
Not far from hence, the Wanderer replied,  
I left him sitting by a smooth Streams fide  
Washing his Wounds, which from the Red-Cross Knight  
He deeply suffered when engaged in fight.  
These Tidings uttered, her brave Champion wastes  
No time in words, but towards the Pagan hastes:  
Leaving sad Una, by what speed she could  
To follow him, who longed to behold  
That heathen Man, and kill him ere she came;  
As his bold Present unto her and Fame.  
And soon he found as to him had been said,  
Where the stern Warrior was reposed in shade:  
Which near a pleasant rivulet comely grew,  
And next him lay his Spear and Armour too.  
Well he discerned the man was great Sans-Loy,  
Whom he resolved with Fury to destroy.  
Having from Una heard his impious Name,  
And how, by Rape, he would have forced her shame▪  
Than sternly looking, bids him rise and see  
The armed Revenger of his Cruelty.  
Who did the flower of Chivalry destroy  
I'the Red Cross Knight, fair Una's only Joy.  
And I, to warlike Deeds, though roughly bred,  
My Soul is by clear Honour's Conduct led,  
Thy Name from Knighthood's Glory to remove,  
And kill thee for thy impious Arms and Love.  
This spoke, the Sarazen upstarts from ground,  
And soon his threesquare Shield and Helmet found:  
Which done, he in a daring posture says,  
What e'er thou art, vain thing, that now assays  
Sans-Loy to combat, whose approved Spear  
Can give thy Soul through wounds a vent to air.  
Believe from me, whate'er Report does tell,  
That by my force the Red-Cross Knight ne'er fell.  
And might be feigned on purpose by some Foe,  
T' expose thy life ere thou the Truth dost know.  
True 'tis, that lately I did meet in field  
A Magic Man, who seemed to wear his Shield:  
And him, though charmed, my blow to earth soon felled,  
Which had thy Patron Knight, if found, so quelled.  
Too late 'tis now thy Error to recall,  
Since, for his sake, thy hated life shall fall.  
Soon did these words their furious blows provoke,  
Which pierced both Shield and Mail at every stroke.  
And in their fleshy parts such Furrows made,  
As Fame, more hardy Prowess, ne'er displayed.  
Blood still they forced, yet still revenge pursued,  
Whilst by fresh wounds fresh Courage they renewed.  
And when their harassed Strength they would supply,  
They breathed a space, more strong to fight or die.  
As when two Boars with ravenous malice meet,  
And feel the wounds which their gored bodies fret:  
Their foaming vigours they a while restrain,  
Till Breath and Fury they recruit again.  
And thus these Warriors, fiercer than before,  
Were adding wounds, till all their bodies o'er  
A sanguine dye had them deformed so,  
As scarce could any Eye their Persons know,  
And now bright Una from the noise had found  
The place from whence their bloody shields did sound.  
Perplexed to hear how loudly they contend:  
And next her deepest Griefs does apprehend,  
Lest valiant Satyran for her sake should die  
Slain by Sans▪ Loy, her shameless Enemy.  
Which doubt so wrought upon her grateful mind,  
As she resolved her Champion here to find:  
And as his beauteous Witness add Renown  
To what his worthy Arms for her had done.  
The stubborn Sarazen, with strange surprise,  
Relaxed his fight as he beheld her Eyes:  
His boisterous Lust from her beams fired again  
T'attempt, what late his force could not obtain.  
Presuming that his wounded Foe might yield,  
His Strength too weak to save her now in field.  
Then forceth her into his rugged Arms,  
And fills his lustful Eyes with her soft Charms:  
Whilst Satyran pursues him with a Stroke,  
That made the Pagan soon behind him look.  
Whom he bids now more manly business ply,  
Or yield, for his vile Deeds, 'tis just to die.  
Yet for his latest Torment grants him leave  
To eye her well, ere his Sword him shall cleave.  
Which heard, the stubborn Sarazen pawsed a space,  
And thus with him expostulates his case:  
Saying, Thou Son of Mars, what makes thee strive  
Against my hot blood this Beauty to reprieve?  
How much 'twere better, for thy safer life,  
To yield her mine, and cease this bloody strife.  
Lest, when subdued, thou shouldst repent too late  
That any blushing Girl provoked thy Fate.  
Howe'er to forward surer my design,  
This blow, for earnest take, that she is mine.  
And now like intermitting Lightnings flash  
Their hardy Spears, as against their Shields they clash.  
Whilst fiercer than before they fight renew;  
Which seen, the Royal Virgin from 'em flew:  
And tim'rously through Deserts takes her way:  
When the false Pilgrim that provoked this Fray,  
Being the Magician Archimago old,  
Had near them hid, and subtly did behold  
The Passage which the desolate Lady took:  
Whom he resolves for vilest ends to look.  
But what the Progress was she after makes,  
Or how, an end, this bloody Combat takes:  
Requires a larger compass to rehearse,  
Then here our Muse thinks fit to give her Verse.    

CANTO VII.  
The Argument.  

The Red-Cross Knight by Giant stern  
Is fatally subdued:  
Which Arthur does from Una learn,  
And to aid him is moved.   

WHat human Prudence always can evade  
Th'attempts that by the faithless heart are made:  
Or want less specious Woman's truth explore,  
When witnessed by the Lips he does adore▪  
Propense to judge from Beauty's outward Grace,  
That Nature did the mind as comely place.  
Which Supposition caused the impious Snare  
That false Duessa laid in seeming fair.  
As her vile Person represents the Name  
Of chaste Fidessa and her beauteous flame.  
And now returned from Hell's infernal sight,  
Where she for Cure had left her wounded Knight  
Imploring there great Aesculapius' Ghost  
T' repair the life her Champion had near lost,  
Seeks for the Red-Cross Hero at Pride's Court,  
Whither by her deceits he did resort:  
Whom there not finding for her hoped design,  
To seek him howe'er moved her thoughts combine  
Nor was it long before the weary Knight,  
She found reposed in a mournful plight  
Under a blooming Shade, to which adjoined  
A Stream, that seemed to sob for his grieved mind.  
And fearing no surprise, had disarrayed  
Himself of Arms, which by him there he laid.  
Permitting of his Steed, for want of Fare,  
To branch on Boughs, and cool his heat with Air.  
No sooner did the Birds, within this Grove,  
Sing cheerful Notes his Sorrows to remove:  
But the Enchantress vile Duessa came,  
And with reproach assaults his slackened flame:  
Telling that he ingratefully her left  
In dangerous Mansions of his aid bereavest.  
Yet could her crafty Language mingle so,  
As her sharp words did with some sweeter go.  
Unkindness past, they of new solace treat,  
Whilst in this shade they sheltered lie from heat.  
Where with green Boughs they decked a gloomy place,  
That like a Garland did this Fountain grace.  
Nor ever could the Summer's fervent flame  
Lessen the bubbling Springs which thither came.  
Although the Crystal Nymph, therein did dwell,  
Was by Diana much disliked, some tell.  
The Cause, as 'tis allowed from Fame's report,  
Was from this Goddess displeased at her Sport.  
When with her quivered Nymphs she chased a Roe:  
And saw this one of all first faintness show.  
For which the angry Deity decreed,  
That, like her Temper, she faint streams should breed.  
And should for ever such an Influence take,  
As their i'll Liquor should men feeble make.  
Of this the Red-Cross Knight could little think,  
And thirsty lying of these Springs did drink.  
Which though they purest seemed unto the Eye,  
Diffused in him their weakening Malady.  
Whose mighty strength soon felt a feeble change,  
As through his Veins his heavy Blood did range.  
Whilst from his cheerful Cheeks the Red impairs,  
Like one the coldest shaking Ague bears.  
Yet still he made Addresses to this Dame,  
Hoping her soft embrace would raise his flame.  
As both supinely on the Surface lay,  
And did their gentlest Beams of Love display.  
At once neglectful of his Health and Fame,  
Till from the Wood a blustering Terror came.  
That Trees and Earth affrighted seemed to shake,  
When up he starts and does his Weapon take.  
But ere his Armour he could fitly place,  
A Giant more than monstrous him does face.  
No Eye shall one so huge ere view again,  
And three times higher was than tallest Men.  
'Tis told this mighty Issue did proceed  
From Earth's wide Womb, begotten by the Seed  
Of stormy Aeolus who within a Cave  
Of wondrous depth to her Conception gave:  
From whence this slimy Mass in future time  
Grew, as Sin's Figure, vast in bulk and crime.  
And against best Knighthood furiously was bend,  
Proud of his matchless strength and high descent.  
A snaggy Oak he on his Shoulder bore,  
Which from his Mother's Entrails he had tore▪  
And had with that famed Giants lately killed,  
And now for like Adventure took the Field.  
Stalking along he sternly gazed around,  
And with his surly Eye the Hero found.  
When steps he takes were more than Acre wide,  
Till unto him with furious haste arrived.  
The Knight not armed, and from the baneful draught  
He at this Fountain took to weakness brought.  
Attempts in vain his single Sword to wield,  
And stands like one that impotent must yield.  
When blows at him the rageful Monster made,  
That level might a Tower of Stone have laid.  
Yet felled him not with all his mighty power,  
So strangely Heaven supported him that hour.  
Some Strength he'ad left, and but enough to try  
If in his Fate was such Dexterity  
That could avoid the Giants mighty stroke,  
Which duly watched, a leap aside he took:  
When missing him the monstrous blow did fall  
Upon the Turf, and it to pieces maul.  
Yet so exceeding was the force he shunned,  
That the Air, moved by it, his Senses stunned.  
As when some Man unhappily does hear  
The Canon's Thunder with astonished ear,  
And falls to earth as does the Tree that's cast  
By the impetuous Wind's unlooked-for blast.  
So prostrate had this Giant's strength compelled  
The valiant Knight, whom as he thus beheld,  
To crush him unto Powder at next blow,  
His heavy Arm he lifting high does show.  
Until Duessa with a loud voice cries,  
Refrain Orgoglio, greatest under Skies:  
If thou'lt for Woman's sake this mortal save,  
And let him still remain thy conquered Slave.  
For which Obligements I'll thy Mistress live,  
And in thy Bed my soft Embraces give.  
No sooner her allurements he had heard,  
And viewed her beauteous looks, but he appeared  
Softened in Soul, and to assure her Charms,  
Gently received her coming to his Arms.  
And prone bowing of his mighty height,  
Kisses her once, and talks of more at Night.  
Then up the slumbering Hero he does take,  
And seeing his sounding Sense did not awake,  
This Monster on his Shoulder him does bear:  
And hands the Lady on with kindest Care.  
Swelled like some lustful Victor by whose Toil  
The Foe's subdued, and Beauty made his Spoil.  
And thus unto his lofty Castle come,  
Placed the sad Knight in his worst Dungeon Room.  
Soon did Duessa's charming Beams allure  
His haughty Soul t'elate her Glory more:  
Giving her Gold and Purple Robes to wear,  
And sees her in a Tripple-Crown appear.  
And next with affluence of all things great,  
He makes her Partner of his Love and State▪  
Nor ceases to advance her yet more high,  
When for her wondrous terror to man's Eye,  
A Beast he sets her on that had been bred  
In a dark Den, and there most foully fed.  
Such Fame assures was that prodigious Snake,  
Which great Alcides killed by Lerna's Lake:  
Tho that vast Serpent still could Heads renew,  
That cost him endless Perils to subdue.  
But this huge Monster uglier far does show,  
As seven vast Fronts do from his Body grow.  
Steel was his Breast, his Wings of scaly Brass;  
And what then all yet more stupendious was,  
His Eyes in Blood imbrued, no less did shine  
Than Crystal that by Art men best refine.  
His Tail to Heaven's high Concave reached in length,  
And with extorted power, and borrowed strength,  
The shining Lamps from thence it proudly sought  
Down to compel, as things supremely nought.  
Whilst on this Beast, raised to a sevenfold dread,  
Sat false Duessa with her scept'red Head.  
The piteous Dwarf that watched his Master's Steed,  
As on the boughs or grass h'was pleased to seed.  
And saw his Knight a wretched Captive made,  
Not guessing how the Springs his strength allayed:  
Took up the Vest he left and splendent Shield,  
Which Fate not then allowed him force to wield:  
Nor yet his poignant Spear so oft had pierced  
The Arms of Foes, and heavily distressed  
Bears these sad Monuments in haste away:  
But not long travels ere upon the way  
He woeful Una met, as passing on  
To find her dear loved Knight, and what he'ad done.  
Fast had she flew the Pagan's lustful sight,  
Whilst Satyran against his fierce flames did fight.  
And as her Eyes now on the Dwarf she cast,  
Signs she beheld that hastened Grief too fast.  
And falling down with harshest Sorrow struck,  
Her Breath her faithful Bosom next forsook.  
Nor in her vital parts did motion live,  
But what her dying Heart by Throbs could give.  
This trusty Messenger soon wished to die,  
As he perceived her saddest Misery.  
Yet outwardly some little Comfort shows,  
And to recall her Life his Strength does use.  
Rubbing her Temples, and her lovely Brow,  
With every part from whence Life seemed to flow.  
That by his diligence her Soul he won  
To live in her who'ad beautified it long.  
And as her doleful Spirit was restored,  
Appeared like one that most to live deplored.  
And moving upwards her lamenting Eyes,  
Repined that Heaven's bright Lamps throughout the Skies  
Were not close Mourners, or Earth leave again  
Dark as in Chaos first it did remain.  
Since Fate has now by its irreg'lar part,  
Abruptly him disseised from my Heart.  
Leaving me life more wished for Death to crave,  
Till I like him obscurely have my Grave.  
What time so fit as this my Breath to cease,  
When in my Soul Love finds no happy place.  
Which words pronounced, she fell into a Swoon:  
Whilst soon the careful Dwarf lifts her from ground.  
Thrice he revived her by his busy pain,  
And saw her Eyes their Windows open again.  
So nimbly he applied his Strength and Skill,  
As Death's cold leisure wanted time to kill.  
And next with trembling veins and faltering tongue,  
To speak with lowest Voice she had begun.  
And finding now against her own desire,  
That Stars for her continuance did conspire:  
Go on, says she, unto thy Story's end,  
Since nothing can my present grief extend.  
Nor any parcel I expect to hear  
Abate or ease my future sad Despair.  
The worst's already felt, and left no more,  
Whatever thou utter'st, for me to deplore.  
Briefly he then discoursing to her told  
The sub'tle Deeds of Archimago old:  
And false Duessa's fair bewithing Charms,  
With how her Knight won her from Pagan arms.  
Then mentious into Trees two Lovers changed,  
The house of Pride, and impious Vice there ranged:  
The Combat which her Red-Cross Hero fought  
With famed Sans-Ioy, and how the Giant stout  
Her Knight surprised, and him a Captive made,  
Whether to die or live 'tis doubtful said.  
All this she heard with patience to the end,  
Striving to master Griefs that still contend,  
And almost rend her tender Heart to find  
The Man she valued, next to Heaven, unkind.  
Whose Virtue and Misfortunes pity moved,  
And as she these recounts afresh she loved.  
With torment still improving her sad cross,  
As Sorrow did enhance her Lover's loss.  
Wishing her Perils, for his sake endured,  
Had but his Life, if not his Love, secured.  
Which thought again incites her steadfast mind  
Her Hero dead or living yet to find.  
And calling to the Dwarf to guide her way,  
o'er Hills and Dales she thus distressed does stray.  
Her tender Cheeks and Limbs enduring cold,  
Like Blossoms in fierce Seasons do unfold.  
At last it happened by good Fortune's guide,  
That towards her a goodly Knight did ride,  
And for his bold attendant had a Squire,  
Ready to aid him with his Martial Fire.  
The Knight's bright armour shined like glancing rays  
Which Phoebus by reflection oft displays.  
And was so firm arrayed from Head to Feet,  
That Steel to wound him could no passage get.  
Athwart his Breast in clusters Gems he wore,  
That twinkling shined like Stars of Heaven's best store.  
Amidst thereof was placed a Stone most bright,  
Which likened Lady's-head unto the sight.  
His wounding Sword by his Side comely hung,  
And in an Ivory carved Sheath seemed long.  
It's Hilts were Gold, its hardy Handle made  
Of choicest Pearl, and by a rich Belt stayed.  
His stately Helmet, though of purest Gold,  
Did on its Crest a Dragon's shape enfold  
With horrid Paws, and over all did spread  
His golden Wings, whilst from his dreadful Head  
And flaming Mouth still sparkling Flames did glow:  
And couched beneath his Back his Tail did show.  
Upon the top of all his lofty Crest,  
A bunch of various Hairs with Pearl was dressed.  
And moved by Air as jocund seemed to dance,  
As Branches which high Almond-trees advance.  
But his famed Shield had closely covered been,  
And rarely was by mortal ever seen:  
No Brass or Steel best wrought did it compose,  
And firm could shine when Rust had eaten those.  
Of clearest Diamond 'twas, by wondrous Art  
Hewn from its hardy Rock's transparent part:  
No Hero's Spear could ere it pierce in field,  
Or strongest Swords which vastest Giants wield.  
This he to human wonder ne'er disclosed,  
But when the worst of Monsters he opposed.  
Or matchless Armies daunted ranked in field,  
Or Heaven's bright Lamps amazed when moved his shield:  
Which so excessive did expand its Rays,  
As if like t'other Sun 'twould govern Days.  
Whilst Silver Cynthia, with a paler Face,  
In her quick Sphere admiring flies apace.  
Nor Magic Arts, through which the Moon some say  
Constraint has felt, could to this Shield convey  
Blemish or change, nor against its clearest Fame  
False men behold it, and their Crimes not shame.  
And if t'appall the headstrong rout he sought,  
Stones it to dust transformed, and dust to nought.  
But when he'd prouder gazing Eyes subdue,  
Its Rays them blind, or turn their Person's Hue,  
Nor are these Deeds surpassing all belief,  
Since this stupendious Shield, of Artist's Chief,  
Great Merlin did from Magic Skill produce,  
And by his Spells inspired its wondrous use.  
Which mighty Present to this Prince he brought,  
When first his youthful Courage Battles sought.  
After whose brave decease the Fairy Queen  
Within her Mansion kept it to be seen.  
A gracious Youth, whom he entirely loved,  
Carrying his Ebony Spear behind him moved.  
Graced to attend as this brave Prince's Squire,  
And bear his Steel thrice seasoned by the Fire.  
Whose gallant Person on a warlike Steed  
Sat, and by comely Manage checked his speed.  
Whilst foaming he the Reins and Rowels bit,  
As if he scorned best Man should on him sit.  
This Knight unto fair Una thus arrived,  
By Mien and Speech his best Address contrived▪  
But when he found her Accents few and slow,  
He judged the cause arose from secret woe▪  
Which to appease or banish from her mind,  
He does Pathetic Words on purpose find.  
And kindly begs that she'd to him relate,  
By what means her fair worth endured this Fate.  
This Speech so touching was, it found a way  
To move her Sorrows where they deepest lay.  
And now she sadly sighing yields to speak,  
Then stays her Lips till Tears her Eyes forsake.  
Letting him know how endless 'twere to tell  
The Troubles in her Soul's discomfits dwell.  
Each thought of which like Death's-cold seemed to creep  
Into her Breast, and there his pale Dart steep:  
And could but entertain the kindest Ear,  
With things that Pity would not wish to hear.  
Better redresless Harms 'tis to conceal,  
Than with fresh bitter Pangs deeds passed bewail.  
Think not, best Lady, said this Hero bold,  
That unto me your Story's fruitless told:  
Since for your sake my Soul's with anguish struck,  
As on the Person and Complaints I look.  
But when particularly you shall impart  
Your Case and Sufferings to my ready Heart,  
My Arms or Counsel happily may sinned  
Some means to ease th' afflictions of your mind.  
But, Noblest Knight, says she, the greatest Grief  
Not harder is to tell than find relief.  
And when expressed, does worse Intrigue despair,  
If found surpassing humane Aid or Care.  
But, Madam, where choice worth refines the Soul,  
Doubt like a flaw does then its mirror foul.  
And though our outward Strength impaired may seem,  
Reason, our inward Prop, can that redeem.  
His goodly words, and well delivered Speech,  
So graciously did her Afflictions reach,  
As she resolves the bottom to disclose;  
Where Love and Fate did complicate her Woes.  
Letting him know succinctly as she might,  
How Stars designed her Fortune's mock and spite;  
Tho only Daughter of a King and Queen,  
Whose Rule more far than Euphrates was seen:  
Or Gebon's waves through mighty Regions glide,  
And Sands every as flows their Golden Tide.  
Thus great, my Parent's Sceptre did command,  
Till from loathed Lakes in vild Tartarian Land,  
A mighty Dragon with a murderous hate,  
Despoiled by ravenous power their Royal State.  
Whilst to their strongest Fortress they took flight,  
And guarded its huge Towers against his might.  
Where round the place he brazen outworks drew,  
And by four years strict Siege afflicts them now.  
Endless 'twere to rehearse th' adventures great,  
Or Armies led by Hero's to defeat  
This wondrous Monster, whom no human Power  
Could ere attack but it Piece-meal he tore;  
And by continual Victories was known  
Stronger than all the neighbouring World alone.  
Whether from Unbelief, or timorous Sin,  
His vanquished Prey so many Great have been.  
At last induced by full assured Praise  
Of warlike Knights, whom Fairy Land does blaze.  
The Virgin Queen's Gloriana's Court I found,  
For her great Deeds and Beauty far renowned.  
When circling round her Throne I did behold  
Knights, that from figured Stars, did Honour hold:  
Their Orders stately Cognizance which rose  
From Lady's Garter found as Story goes.  
And here of Knighthoods I hoped some to find,  
Who would from brave adventures be inclined  
My Royal Parents valiantly to aid,  
And kill the Dragon where his Leaguer's made.  
At this famed Court I found a youthful Knight,  
Whose early Virtue sought for hardy Fight.  
Clean was his Heart, and, like his Heart, his Arms  
Had ne'er been stained by forcing guilty Harms.  
Yet unto him was such high Prowess given,  
As he seemed, for Truth's Champion, raised by Heaven▪  
And I, though his sad Witness, have beheld,  
How his strength, more than human, Foes had quelled▪  
Let these without all Episode assure  
The hardy Battles he did oft endure:  
As here you from his piercing Sword and Spear  
Behold the Marks of Honour which they bear.  
And which, none like his Valour ere could wield:  
Tho since, his saddest Relics left in field.  
O! how is now my Red-Cross Knight distressed,  
That has lost these whose Valour used them best.  
His Love I proved, by fair beginnings, had;  
When nought mistrusting, an Enchanter bade  
His Sense abused, and vildly made him deem  
My Faith unworthy of his great esteem.  
But judge you Heavens that all things know aright,  
If I less loved him than with all my Might.  
Death I oft wished, though Death I could not find,  
As my Soul pondered on his deeds unkind.  
And by wild wander, as my Fortune led,  
I Footsteps left where none before did tread.  
Whilst his irregular Flight us more disjoins,  
As from one Point show far extended Lines.  
Thus too too long he weariless did stray,  
Till meeting Witch Duessa in his way;  
The Sorc'ress that against my Truth conspired,  
And with her seeming Beauty his heart fired.  
And next by subtle Charms his worth betrayed  
To Giant vaster than, of old, earth made.  
Who having him disarmed, with his huge Mall,  
Or stunned or dead compelled his mighty fall.  
Tho never Man or Monster could before  
Boast the success, which sadly I deplore.  
Not all she tells before her Spirits faint:  
Whilst with apt words he softens her Complaint;  
Letting her know, though great's her cause of Grief,  
That he'd not rest till given her Knight Relief.  
Which cheerful words her drooping vitals raise,  
And moving on the Dwarf well guides their ways    

CANTO VIII.  
The Argument.  

Fair Una seeks her Lover still,  
And Arthur brings to fight:  
Who doth strange Beast and Giant kill,  
And strips Duessa quite.   

HOw from the World would best men harms receive,  
Did not Celestial succours them relieve:  
And by the Influence of divinest Grace  
Assist their weakness in each suffering Case.  
When oft through human frailty they least see  
The Steps they take unto their Misery.  
All which the captive Red-Cross Knight did feel,  
Till this great Prince attempts his aid with Steel.  
Who traveling with fair Una had arrived  
Unto a Castle high and strong contrived.  
When says the Dwarf, see, yonder is the place,  
To which my Lord was carried with disgrace.  
Wherefore Great Sir, employ your valiant Power,  
And free my noble Master this sad hour.  
Which heard, brave Arthur soon leaps off his Steed,  
And to a Station does the Lady lead:  
Desiring her, with Comfort to expect;  
What he might 'gainst her Giant Foe effect.  
Then moving on with his devoted Squire,  
He to this mighty Fortress approached nigher:  
Whose vast Gates being shut and strongly barred,  
No living thing was made their Watch, or Guard.  
Which when perceived, the Knights bold Squire do▪ take  
His Bugle Horn, of more than wondrous make,  
That hung along his side in twisted Gold,  
Adorned with Tassels richest to behold.  
To Fame its admired Virtues had been known,  
When e'er in Battle or in Siege 'twas blown.  
Nor was there stoutest Man that did it hear,  
But felt in every Vein a Panic Fear.  
Whose piercing Shrill could three Miles distance sound,  
Whilst trembling echoed the Horizon round.  
Not Hell's Enchantments or devised Deceit,  
If blown this Horn, could scape their soon Defeat.  
Nor Lock so firm, or Gate with Iron barred,  
But open flew where this shrill noise was heard.  
And when before Orgoglios Gate 'twas blown,  
Quaking around was his vast Castle shown.  
Which as the Giant, reposed in a Bower  
With false Duessa heard, this wondrous hour:  
When mingling luscious Kisses with their Lips:  
Now, though unquenched his strenuous lustful heats;  
From her smooth Bosom full inflamed retreats.  
And rushing forth alarmed with the noise,  
Curseth the hour that interrupts his Joys.  
And ghastly staring like some one amazed,  
Trembling he treads as round his huge Eyes gazed.  
Next whom Duessa, with an amorous flame,  
On her sevenheaded Monster stately came.  
Triumphant like on his vast body seen,  
And rich attired as any new crowned Queen.  
In each head had this Beast a fiery Tongue,  
From whence dropped Flames as here he moved along:  
Whilst his wide Jaws on all sides poured forth blood,  
And showed his cruel glutting by his Food.  
When this great Knight this wondrous Beast beheld,  
Upon his manly Arm he placed his Shield;  
And at him with undaunted Valour flew,  
Resolved he'd first this Monster's Strength subdue.  
Which when the Giant faw, with high difdain,  
He strives his Beast and Mistress to maintain.  
And interposing with his Club of Oak,  
Designs against his Foe a high-heaved Stroak.  
But whilst the mighty thing erects his Blow,  
Thinking to bruise the Prince to Atoms so;  
The height to which he lifts his mighty Mall,  
Gave this brave Person time to avoid its fall:  
By leaping quick, from whence he stood, aside,  
As who'd the force of Thunderbolt abide.  
Nor does he judge it shame for gallant Man  
To wave the force no Mortal can withstand.  
Which here he did by such a dextrous way,  
As him the huge Club missed and stuck in Clay:  
And so deep too, that three yards under ground  
It raised a Furrow, and forced earth to sound.  
As when from Heaven some mighty Thunder's force  
Rends things that hardest do withstand its course.  
Till striking through the surface, thence it throws  
A Mount of Earth that its rough passage shows.  
The Giant's mighty Log in Clay thus stuck,  
And could not soon be moved by his strong pluck.  
The nimble Knight assails him cumbered now,  
And strikes off his huge Arm at one keen Blow.  
Which fell to ground like some Trees tallest Limb,  
And in blood of his bleeding Trunk did swim.  
Raging the Monster felt this desperate wound,  
And loudly brayed with such a hideous sound,  
That ambient air rebellowed it again,  
As when the vastest Bulls in Cymbrian Plain,  
Lowing do want their milky female Herd,  
And all the Horizon round, their roaring herd.  
When proud Duessa saw her Giant's Fate,  
Fearing thence hazard of her high Estate:  
To aid at once her puff'd-up Lust and Pride,  
Towards the victorious Knight inflamed does ride  
Mounted aloft upon the ravenous Beast  
Which late was pampered with a murderous feast  
And now ramp d forth presumptuously apace,  
As all his heads like flaming Brands did blaze.  
But him, with his keen Sword famed Arthur's Squire,  
Ere to his Lord arrived, forced to retire.  
The haughty Witch affronted to disdain,  
Compelled her Purple Beast to turn again.  
Whilst still this brave Attendant intervenes,  
And from his Lord the Monster still restrains.  
Then took the angry Witch her Golden Cup,  
From whence had many drunk their direful Sup.  
And full enchanted by her Magic Tongue,  
The wicked Liquor on the Squire she flung:  
Which did his sturdy Courage so dismay,  
As powerless he before his Master lay.  
When, with foul sanguine Claws the cruel Beast  
Crushing his neck had his Life near depressed.  
This as his Lord and Champion did perceive,  
His armed hand attempts his Squire's Relief.  
By noble Sorrow moved his valiant Heart,  
As he beheld his Servant's suffering part.  
And close advancing his approved Blade,  
Against one head of the Beast such entrance made:  
As it unto his Jaws his Skull divides,  
Whence waves of Blood did gush like strongest tides.  
And overflowing all the place around,  
Caused the Prince deep to wade on bloody ground.  
And now tormented with exceeding Pain,  
The Monster scourged the Air with his long Train.  
Vexed to impatience for his severed Brow,  
And raging thus, almost had hurled low  
His haughty Rider, till her Giant came  
To aid his Mistress with revengeful flame.  
Who high enraged, with smart and frantic Ire,  
Wielding his Club the Knight forced to retire.  
And raised by courage, thinks his strength now more  
In one remaining Arm than both before.  
With which he lifts up high his mighty Stroke,  
That by't his Foe might be in pieces broke:  
And gives both Shield and Person such a blow,  
That, as a bended Plant, the Man bows low.  
What Life but his could have endured the like,  
Since blows, are more than blows, that Giants strike.  
But as he fell, by an admired chance,  
The Veil before his Shield aside did glance:  
The Beams whereof so piercingly were bright,  
That Eyes they dazzled, or bereaved of sight.  
The staring Giant, when beheld this Shield,  
No longer could his Timber-weapon wield:  
But drops it from his hand, though lifted high  
To kill the Hero on the ground did lie.  
The many-headed Beast, on whom in state  
The Witch yet sits, now feels his darksome Fate:  
And stumbles blindly in the dirty field,  
Seeming as overcome himself to yield.  
Which seen, the Hag does on Orgoglio call  
To end the Knight lest he destroy 'em all.  
Her piteous Cries her Champion's Soul did move,  
Like one in point of Honour fought and Love.  
And once more to his hand his Club does take,  
But against that Shield could no Encounter make.  
As when by Lightning human Sense is struck,  
Or Eyes on Objects never more can look.  
This done, the Prince to kill him next addressed,  
Having first round his head his Sword thrice blessed.  
Then cuts his Foes huge right Leg off at Knee,  
And sees him fall as does the rootless Tree.  
Or as some Castle of the strongest form,  
Is won without adventuring a Storm:  
As by degrees her Basis does decay  
When Miners dig her rocky Limbs away.  
And falls at last as does the Giant here,  
Shaking the Earth his ruin'd bulk does bear.  
The nimble Knight upon the Corpse soon stood,  
And cuts the head off to discharge the Blood:  
Which issuing like a Fountain from his Veins,  
His filthy gore his wallowing Body stains.  
And dead a while to Fame such wonder left,  
That as a Bladder shows of Air bereft  
His massy substance leaves no more behind,  
Than a thin film that had been swollen by wind.  
The lustful Witch seeing her vast Lover killed,  
Her Cup of Gold, with Magic Liquor filled,  
She casts away, and next to ground does throw  
The stately Mitre that adorned her Brow.  
With sorrow and disdain oppressed her Soul,  
As her Charms could not Destiny control:  
And leaving all behind from them had fled,  
Had not the nimble Squire o'ertook her Speed.  
Whom he turns back, and to his Lord with Smiles  
Presents her as a Trophy to his Toils.  
The Royal Virgin who beheld afar,  
The whole Achievements of this doubtful War:  
In haste arrives, and bending low her Knees,  
Congratulates his wondrous Victories.  
Letting him know her Soul was posed to tell,  
How much his worth all mortals does excel.  
And had for her, a hapless Virgin, done  
Exploits his Virtue ever must renown.  
T'retaliate which, she nothing could express,  
Other, than still obliged, herself confess.  
Monsters of unknown kind you have subdued,  
And seen them die in their own blood embrued.  
And but remaining the accursed Dame  
Duessa, who with Charms and impious flame  
My dearest Lord has wickedly betrayed,  
And by her means here in a Dungeon laid.  
O hear, how his sad voice from under ground,  
More doleful is than dying Mandrakes sound.  
Her piteous moan great Arthur does deplore,  
And bids his Squire secure the Scarlet Whore.  
Till this vast Castle searched he finds the place,  
Where lies in loathsome Duress and Disgrace  
The Red-Cross Knight; still hoping for his Guide  
To find some mortal that did there reside.  
When passing Rooms such stillness to him seemed,  
As if there Nature had a Vacuum deemed.  
Nor did the loudest words that he could talk,  
Summon one living thing to speak or walk.  
Until a creeping Crooked-man that way  
Passed, as he used, about this time of day.  
Whose sight had from his age him long forsaken,  
And leaning on a Staff, weak Steps he took.  
And bunch of Keys upon his Arm he bore,  
Yet had forgot their Use, or proper Door.  
Their substance much appeared decayed by Rust,  
As but his Badge they seemed of former Trust.  
But far more awkward 'twas unto the sight,  
To see how Nature did his movement spite.  
For as he forward stepped his wrinkled Face  
Behind still turned, like none of humane Race.  
An ancient Keeper of this Castle he  
Had long time been, as Stories do agree.  
His Name Ignaro, whence was his Genius read,  
And Foster-father to the Giant dead.  
The Prince an honourer of aged Hairs,  
Unto him with becoming Mien repairs:  
And gently asked where all the People were,  
That in this stately Fabric Office bear:  
Or if he knew in what place was disposed  
The Knight whom the late Giant had opposed.  
To which, Ignaro said he did not know.  
The Prince then asked what way he'd forward show'  
To whom the Man, He could not tell, replied,  
And in like words all Knowledge still denied.  
Which heard, the Hero with displeasure said,  
How mean is age that does due Manners need?  
Wherefore, old Sir, methinks your Silver Head  
Should least with idle Mocks be furnished.  
And since thou'st lived to Nature's grave degree,  
As gravely answer what I ask of thee.  
But still he said, That he could nothing say;  
Which speech repeated oft one senseless way:  
The noble Prince his anger did restrain,  
And like his Name, thought Ignorance his Vein.  
Then stepping, from his Arm the Keys does reach,  
That opened every Door without a breach.  
And well he might, when no Barricado there,  
Or Foe t'impede his entrance every where.  
Tho all within excessive rich he found,  
No Prince's lavish Court could more abound.  
But all the Floors, too grievous to betold,  
With Blood of Babes and Innocents' were fouled.  
And on those, for profane Pollution strown  
Some Martyr's Ashes thick as seed fresh sown.  
An Altar there of Marblestone was raised,  
Where Tyrants in their figured Pomp were praised.  
That living gloried in their impious Gild  
Of holy Blood, oft on this Altar spilt.  
Whilst blessed Spirits, beneath the Stone did lie,  
To Heaven for Vengeance loudly seemed to cry.  
And grievously were often heard to groan,  
That hardest Heart could not but them bemoan.  
Fully each Room the valiant Prince had sought  
To find the Knight for Bondage thither brought.  
At last unto an Iron Door was come,  
But found no Key could open that dark Room.  
And in't a Grate was placed, though very small,  
Through which with all his power he loud does call.  
Whom to respond, a hollow mournful sound  
Was heard, like Ghost conjured, from under ground,  
Saying, O welcome Man! if, as my choice,  
Thou summon'st me to die by thy stern Voice.  
Whilst my Griefs here worst pangs of Death transcend,  
Like one alive is buried life to end.  
Yet thus have lived, full three Moons various hours,  
Without beholding Beam from heavenly Powers.  
Which, when this Champion heard, with noble grief  
And Courage joined, he attempts the Knight's relief.  
When thrusting strongly at the Iron Door,  
His Strength to wonder it soon open tore.  
Where entering he by no firm Steps could tread,  
But such with steep descent him forward led.  
And all in dark a dismal Stench did smell,  
Such as the Poets write is breathed from Hell.  
But neither noisome Damps or Darkness could  
This famous Knight from his design withhold.  
Who after loathsome Ways and Perils past,  
By painful Search he found the Knight at last.  
And lifting him from ground with tender care,  
From this dark depth the Man to light does bear.  
But such a worn and ghastly shape had he,  
Of Body pined by tedious Misery:  
That his late radiant Eyes were pitted low,  
And wasted did a fixed dimness show.  
His ruddy Cheeks that heretofore had been  
Admired by Beauties, now consumed seen.  
His brawny Limbs of flesh and strength bereaved,  
That oft had armed Foes in pieces cleaved.  
Whilst even his comely Growth and vital Power,  
Was shrunk within him like a withered Flower.  
Whom when fair Una saw, saw him she moved,  
Like Woman joyed to meet the Man beloved.  
Yet grieved to see his pale and cheerless Face,  
That once she thought surpassed mortal Race.  
And when she wasted had a Flood of Tears:  
Ah, dearest Knight, she said, what evil Stars  
Have now bereaved you of your beauteous Youth,  
Or your heart influenced to suspect my Truth.  
But welcome still my ever loved Lord,  
My Comfort in all straits I'll you afford.  
And Fortune only blame for being unkind,  
Without imputing Folly to your mind.  
From harsh extremes our good does often grow,  
Like Seed in Winter seasons men do sow.  
These words, though kind, the Man could little please,  
Whose famished Bowels wanted other ease.  
Then to the Lady gallant Arthur said,  
All Grief repeated is more grievous made:  
Nor can the softest sounds delight the Ear  
Of him that loathing does the Music hear.  
From actions past no Counsel can arise,  
Other than future Care of being more wise.  
And in my Heart this Maxim fixed I find,  
That constant Bliss abides not with Mankind.  
And for you Red-Cross Knight, let Patience be  
The wise appeaser of your Misery.  
To which adjoin all fitting Means and Care,  
That may your body's wasted Strength repair.  
And now behold how in a monstrous length  
Your Foe lies dead in spite of his vast Strength.  
The wicked Woman too within your power,  
The rise of all the Griefs you most deplore.  
Her Giant-Champion, nor her hellish Charms,  
Could joined withstand the Virtue of my Arms.  
To you I'll leave t'inflict her vile desert,  
Who caused both yours and Una's suffering part.  
To which with comely Mien the Royal Maid  
These words unto Heroic Arthur said.  
Know Prince, I intercede that she mayn't die,  
Whose life's to mean to be my Enemy.  
Enough if stripped from her false Robes and Tyre,  
She does a loathed Hag to Fiends retire.  
Soon as she spoke, the stately Purple Dress,  
Adored by Gems, that shined with rich excess:  
They took from off the Witch, with every thing  
To her deceitful Beauty Grace did bring.  
Whose crafty head, when off her Dress was thrown,  
Was which a leprous Scurf and Baldness shown.  
No Teeth were seen within her withered Jaws,  
And from her Lungs a putrid Breath she draws.  
Her secret parts more nauseous to rehearse,  
Than does become the Modesty of Verse.  
Her scabby Chin as rough as Maple-Rind,  
Too loathsome for the sight of Womankind.  
A Fox's Tail hung at her Rump Be—  
Her Feet to wonder monstrous to the sight.  
For one of them was like an Eagles' Claw,  
The other seemed a Bear's most ugly Paw.  
Whilst all the Beauties she possessed before,  
Ceased as false Objects caused by Magic Power.  
The loathed Witch prodigiously thus seen,  
To what her former looks and shape had been:  
The Royal Una, with a blushing Grace,  
Bids all behold the impious cous'ning Face  
Of false Duessa, whose foul Features shown,  
They left her free to wander ways unknown.  
Who flies away detesting Heaven's fair sight,  
And Eyes that her black Gild had brought to light;  
Till she unto obscurest Deserts came,  
There to conceal her full deserved Shame.  
And now fair Una, as best virtue's Gold,  
Proved by Extremes, these Hero's do behold.  
When for her Red-Cross Knight her Cares apply  
The choicest Means for his Recovery.  
As in this Castle they remained a while,  
Where curious Food and Ease indulged their Toil.    

CANTO IX.  
The Argument.  

Arthur his Love and Lineage speaks,  
And Friendship does unite.  
Sir Trevisan Despair escapes,  
And meets the Red-Cross Knight.   

O Wondrous Virtue! by whose secret tye  
Great Souls unite their brave Humanity:  
And like to noblest Allies of the mind,  
Their common Glory to their Actions joined.  
Ready whom Fortune does depress to raise,  
And where Fame called as largely gave their praise.  
As of Heroics ancient Stories tell,  
Whose Amity and Valour did excel.  
And such was here Prince Arthur's glorious Fame,  
Who freed the captive Knight by Martial Flame.  
Whose Body late by sufferings pined had been,  
By Care and best Repast repaired was seen.  
When his bold Soul with soon Strength conspired,  
To be again in far Campaigns admired.  
Or where his Arms might Gratitude dispense  
For his Obligements to this valiant Prince.  
And now they all this admired Castle leave,  
Lest Ease their Souls of Glory should deceive:  
And with a resolute Gallantry combine,  
How they Adventures bravest might design.  
But ere they parted were, the Royal Maid  
With grateful Speech to gallant Arthur said:  
I et me, Great Sir, your Name and Lineage know,  
To whom my Red-Cross Knight his Life does owe;  
And I, that wand'ring far his loss deplored,  
Am by your Valour to his Love restored.  
Most beauteous Lady, this great Prince replied,  
What you desire is unto me denied:  
I being unto a Fairy Knight conveyed,  
When first my Lips to Mother's Breasts were laid.  
And by this Cavalier, unknown to me,  
Had princely Breeding from my Infancy.  
Whose Care did to old Timon me commit,  
In Letters held profound and Martial Wit.  
That from best Copies I might early know  
Deeds that became my future Life to do.  
Whose warlike Youth, as Fairy Stories tell,  
Did approved Knights in Chivalry excel.  
His dwelling's in a Valley's fruitful Green,  
Whence mossy Rauran's Mountain top is seen:  
And Silver Dee's first rolling Streams arise,  
As if they headlong tumbled from the Skies.  
Here profound Merlin oft did visit me,  
Being charged my Tutor's Care to oversee,  
Enquiring if best Studies I pursued,  
And how their worth my growing mind imbued?  
Or if I warlike Acts of Hero's read,  
As unto Arms my youth was early bred.  
Of him I asked from whence my Blood did spring?  
Who said I was begotten by a King.  
But would not tell my Royal Father's Name,  
Till riper years more fully spread my Fame.  
Which from his wondrous Skill he did divine,  
Fore-speaking Deeds in future time were mine.  
Well, says the Lady, did your Virtue grace  
Your Tutor's Precepts, though of mortal Race  
His sublime Science highest did transcend?  
But, Sir, if I may ask, declare the end  
That you induced to travel Fairy Land,  
outdoing Prowess by your valiant Hand.  
What you ask, beauteous Princess, is far more  
Than Reason can effectually explore:  
Since supreme Causes that our minds do guide,  
Heaven does within the highest Curtain hide.  
By what Fate likewise I my Country left,  
And of my inward Comfort there bereft:  
From my Soul's search no less obscure does lie,  
Than Object sought by Dream or Ecstasy.  
So strange my Grief that I no means can find  
From Thought or Travel to assuage my mind.  
Ah! courteous Prince, says she, what secret Dart  
Could so unkindly wound your gentle Heart?  
If Love's the Cause, what Lady would not be  
Devoted to your Person's Gallantry?  
And might I that hardhearted Beauty know,  
To soften her I'd Intercessor go.  
Much honoured Lady, you too prone fan  
The glowing Cinders which in me remain.  
Nor can their Fervour cease, till in my Breath  
Their Fuel shall evaporate by death.  
But since my silence less'neth not my Fire,  
I will reveal what you so much desire.  
Mean while, O mighty Love, thy Shafts lay by,  
And grant me power to speak thy Victory.  
Sometime-ago when Nature's cheerful Spring  
Did vigorous influence to all Creatures bring,  
And kindly Heat did gradually improve  
The soft desires of Souls propense to love:  
When in my youthful Breast I did not feel  
The amorous Darts that into Bosoms steal.  
As ancient Timon had, with studied Skill,  
Against Love's alluring Snares confirmed my Will.  
Adding that Passions should least passage find  
To Prince's Souls, whose Conducts rule Mankind.  
But all in vain, as what Heart can resist  
The force of Love which Nature does assist?  
Unless Celestial Motives do control  
The frail Affections of the human Soul.  
And 'twas my Fate, when most I did despise  
The power of Love, to feel my own surprise.  
Tho I before had laughed at Cupid's Darts,  
And Tales of Lovers captivated Hearts.  
Not judging that ere Beauty's tempting Shrine  
Should by my thoughts have been allowed divine▪  
Whilst on a day, as in the Forest far  
A Steed I road most fearless proved by War:  
Judging that Fields, and Floods, nay Heaven's bright Face  
Smiled, as I there the nimble Hart did chase.  
When surfeited with Sports I did alight  
Where Shades did softest my Repose invite:  
And on my Helmet, wanting Pillows, laid,  
Whilst soon each Sense my slumbering Heart obeyed.  
To me in sleep, I thought did then appear  
A Face more beauteous than the Evening Sphere.  
Princely her Habit was, and looked as kind  
As gentlest Virgin for a Throne designed.  
And lying down she seemed by me to rest,  
So fair a Creature ne'er my Eyes had blest.  
And next by Courtly Graces me assayed,  
Bidding me love her, though she first love made.  
Since her Affection she did on me place,  
Whom she held most renowned of human Race.  
As Time, she said, should perfect her intent,  
And why she used her present Blandishment.  
Never had Dreamer's Soul felt such delight,  
As mine did from her words and looks that Night.  
And ere her charming Visage she withdrew,  
Methought she told her Name and Greatness too;  
Letting me know she was the Virgin Queen,  
Whose Rule in Fairy Land admired had been.  
When I awaked, no Man was e'er so joyed,  
Until I saw the place she lay on void.  
And but on Grass th'Impression left behind  
Of her neat Figure fancied by my mind.  
If I indulged my Dream of her before,  
I now her vanished Form as much deplore.  
Nor could I choose but shed Tears on the ground,  
Where my Soul thought her person to have found.  
Vowed I have ne'er to rest until I see  
The Sphere where shines her comely Majesty.  
For which Cause I long painful Travel took,  
And my dear Clime and Princely home forsaken.  
This having said, upon his youthful Face  
A dismal Pale began to spread apace.  
And as his Passion to conceal he strove,  
He more discovered his resistless Love.  
When gentle Una thus to him did speak,  
Happy, O Fairy Queen, thy Stars thee make,  
If for thy Bosom they this Prince design,  
And to thy mighty Rule his Prowess join.  
To which replied the Illustrious Red-Cross Knight  
O beauteous Una, full of heavenly Light,  
Next to this Queen's fair Virtues thine I'll place,  
Whose wondrous Truth surpasseth mortal Race.  
And in my worst Extremes approved more clear,  
Than Stars that brightest fixed above appear.  
And noblest Prince, my valiant Patron, know,  
That to your Virtue Love and Life I owe.  
Wishing you might be, where you love, possessed,  
Since your worth only hers can merit best.  
Now was the cheerful Sun well near arose,  
Whence Light its wondrous far Expansion shows,  
As these great Persons had their Stories told,  
Mixed with soft Wishes and Adventures bold.  
Whilst Princely Arthur, with a pensive mind,  
Further his Amorous Voyage had designed.  
But ere these Hero's part, they strictly tie  
Their Souls in Links of bravest Amity.  
Embracing solemnly with armed Hands,  
As Chiefs of old took leave on warlike Strands.  
And being Persons of supreme Estate,  
They Presents gave reciprocally great.  
A Diamond Box, all Value did surpass,  
Containing Balm to heal most precious was:  
Prince Arthur gave unto the Red-Cross Knight  
To cure his wounds when e'er received in fight.  
Which to requite the Knight does him present,  
In lettered Gold and choicest Ornament,  
His Saviour's Gospel, fittest to refine  
The Souls of Kings that would rule most divine.  
And now great Arthur first his way does take,  
As his Love's Progress he designed to make.  
Leaving fair Una to her valiant Knight,  
Who longed against her Foes in field to fight.  
But as she deemed not yet enough his strength  
For bold Attempts, or dangerous Travel's length:  
So she advised that he'd short Periods make,  
Till longer Journeys he could vigorous take.  
Thus passing forward, soon they did espy  
A Knight that seemed well armed unto the Eye;  
That towards them in confused haste did ride,  
Like one successless had his Prowess tried:  
Or from his dreaded Foe designed his haste,  
Or other thing that him had more aghast.  
Still as he fled his Eye he cast behind,  
Whilst his Steed moved loose-reined as is the Wind.  
As he drew near they could perceive his Hair  
Above his naked Head upright to stare.  
Nor drop of Blood throughout his Face appeared,  
Nor Life in Limb, so dismally he feared.  
And in reproach of Knighthoods fair degree,  
A Hempen Rope worn on his Arms they see.  
Tho he no more considered his Disgrace,  
Than one in whom Remembrance had no place.  
To him quick moved the warlike Red-Cross Knight,  
Who asked the Cause of his unmanly Fright.  
But soon discerned the man was so dismayed,  
As even of himself he seemed afraid.  
Fear still improving his Amazement more  
Than human Eye had e'er observed before.  
Often he asked him what his Flight provoked,  
Whilst t'other ghastly staring no word spoke.  
Till, quaking every Limb, a means he found,  
By faltering Speech, to give these Accents sound.  
For Heaven's sake Knight do not my haste deny,  
Since he apace pursues from whom I'd fly.  
Then looking back he forward would have made,  
But t'other stops him who was thus afraid.  
Embold'ning him by hearty Speech to tell,  
How this strange Horror on his Soul befell.  
O'ercome at last, he his stiff Silence broke,  
And with a trembling Chill thus further spoke.  
And am I now in safety here, says he,  
From him that would have forced my Misery?  
Or may I hope to wave Death's cruel Dart,  
Whilst I the Story tell that frights my Heart.  
Doubt not, the Red-Cross Knight to him replied,  
Since for Man's aid my Sword has oft been tried.  
Hear then, said he, what sadder I beheld,  
Than Fate had ever mortal Eye compelled.  
And had I not, forlorn, found aid from Grace,  
I had partaken of the dismal Place:  
As 'twas my chance, a fatal one to me,  
With a fair Knight to join Society:  
His Name Sir Terwin, to the World well known,  
From deeds that gave his Virtue bold Renown.  
Whose Lot it was to love a Lady fair,  
Who, him neglecting, caused his Love's despair.  
For proud she was, and had by Pride designed  
To triumph most when most her Lover pined.  
His first Address repulsed, I proved him sad,  
As by the way of her we mention had.  
When riding on we met an impious Man,  
Or Wretch more vile than Sun e'er shined upon:  
From this cursed thing I hither fled in fear,  
Who calls himself, from hellish Gild, Despair.  
At first he much enquired our State and Deeds;  
Hiding his ends as Serpents lie in Weeds.  
When us he knew, and how our feeble Hearts  
Were deeply wounded by Love's piercing Darts:  
With harsh reviling Language he reproved  
The hopes we had of ever being beloved.  
And as he thus us comfortless had made,  
His Speech does next our loss of Life persuade.  
To me he gave this Rope to cease my Grief,  
And for Sir Terwin's end a rusty Knife.  
My amorous Friend, provided thus for Death,  
A wide way forced to let out living Breath.  
But I more fearful, or more lucky fled,  
Leaving that Knight, from his dire Act, near dead.  
O may not Mortals more this Charmer hear,  
Lest they with others the same Fate should share.  
Was ever Man, the Red-Cross Knight replied,  
Before thus made an impious Suicide?  
My Woes, says he, too late this Truth assure,  
Nor could I for Earth's Wealth the same endure.  
His subtle Tongue such tempting words instils,  
As Heart and Veins its baneful Sweetness fills.  
Let none him find, and Lovers most beware,  
Lest to your wished for Bliss he joins Despair.  
Guide me, the Hero answered, and I'll find  
This false and cruel Hater of Mankind.  
In Soul more monstrous, than was ere before  
Wasted by Charon o'er the Stygian shore.  
A Knight I you suppose, since on your Arms  
I see remaining signs of Martial Harms.  
Howe'er by treacherous Fate you were designed  
To seek your safety with affrighted mind.  
My Name's Sir Trevisan, and back will ride,  
Since you desire that I should be your Guide.  
But beg that I may leave you near the place,  
For at no rate again I'd see his Face.  
Not long they had passed through desert Ground,  
But the sad dwelling of this Wretch they found.  
Who underneath a Cliff possessed a Cave,  
Dark and full dismal as the greedy Grave.  
On top whereof lived the sad-boding Owl,  
And never haunted by Air's cheerful Fowl.  
And all around it wand'ring Ghosts still walked,  
That ghastly looked, and in Hell's Language talked.  
The ragged Trees on which no Fruit e'er grew,  
Upon th' adjacent Rock did withered show.  
On these had many Wretches hanged been,  
Whose Carcases were scattered round the Green:  
Or thrown along the Cliffs, as sore afraid  
The strange bareheaded Knight had them surveyed.  
Who would again have fled as he drew near,  
Had not fair Una's Hero checked his fear.  
The dark some Cave they entered, where was found  
That cursed Man low sitting on the ground.  
His grizly Hairs beneath his Shoulders long,  
And hid his Face as they disordered hung.  
Deep pitted were his dismal Eyes, and stared  
Like one whose sullen mind had still despaired.  
Ghastly his hollow Jaws and Cheeks were pined,  
And looked throughout like one that never dined.  
His Garment divers was of ragged Clout,  
Which, pinned by Thorns, his Body hung about.  
And by him was a dead Man bleeding seen,  
Whose bloody hand had his own Murderer been▪  
All naked in his gore he wallowed lay,  
As in him stuck the Knife that him did slay.  
Which piteous sight, as Trevisan had told,  
When the great Hero fully did behold:  
He to the Villain said, Thou cursed thing,  
And Author whence this horrid Gild does spring.  
In thy best Blood imbrued thou shalt die,  
To expiate thy professed Cruelty.  
What frantic Fit, has thus distracted thee,  
Vain Man, that gives so rash a doom to me?  
Is't Justice, think'st thou, to deny him death,  
That grants he longer does not merit Breath?  
None here, to die, did this Desparer force,  
Who killed himself to end Life's grievous Course.  
Nor is't unjust that loathed life should cease,  
When Men from other means can find no ease.  
Who weary traveleth a tedious way,  
And sees a Stream that does his Passage stay,  
Will he not thank the Aid by which 'tis passed,  
Or frees his Feet that did in Mire stick fast?  
Most envious he that hinders others good,  
Or stays their Passage that attend the Flood.  
What though Death's Pains awhile distaste our Sense,  
If Rest for ever be our Recompense.  
The Port attained the Pilat's Care does cease,  
And Soldiers fight to gain their future ease.  
Thus Man oppressed himself by Death should free,  
Like one that at his wanted home would be.  
The Knight admiring at his ready Wit:  
Said, Wretch consider, what thou wouldst admit.  
Or dost thou judge that human Life is given,  
At will to leave without offending Heaven?  
Don't we our Maker so refuse to trust,  
That gives us Periods ere we end in Dust?  
Who like a Sovereign Chief does Man command,  
On his Life's Duty Centinel to stand.  
And not for fear of Death his post to quit,  
Till the Drum beats that does his Watch remit.  
If Man his first beginning cannot know,  
Other than Heaven's revealed Will does show,  
Dares he presume that he has rightful power  
To end his days at his appointed hour:  
When 'tis his duty to attend God's Call,  
And with content, when that time comes, to fall.  
From length of years, replied the Caitiff then,  
Improved are the Crimes of wicked Men.  
And all those Battles which thou boasts to win  
Through wrath or bloodshed, or more daring Sin,  
Expect thy Death shall bloodily repay,  
Shouldst thou defer thy Gild unto that day.  
Better to end thy youth Adventures here,  
And justly cruel to thyself appear;  
Since all the Actions of thy warful Life,  
At best can claim but glorious bloody Strife.  
Or grant no Foe thy Fury could subdue,  
Age, Sorrow, Sickness, thee can vanquished show:  
Besides a thousand Ills that Fortune can  
Add to the lingering wretched living Man.  
And if thou'lt duly weigh thy Knightly State,  
With what thy vain Achievements caused of late;  
When from a Dungeon thou for Death didst call,  
Yet Fate, to end thee worse, there spared thy fall.  
Which thou, if Stars are just, ought'st to expect  
Poured on thy head, since from thy false neglect  
This gracious Lady's Virtue suffered wrong,  
As thou the Witch Duessa courtedst long.  
What more Heroic can for thee remain,  
Than by thy hand to lie at her Feet slain?  
Canst thou hear this and let one Minute fly,  
Ere, full detesting Life, thou hasts to die?  
These words the Hero's Soul so deeply pierced,  
As thence, by thought, his past Crimes were rehearsed  
Which he with secret Horror soon bewailed,  
Whilst deep Despair his resolute Heart assailed.  
To heighten which the wicked Man did show  
A Table-book, wherein the figured Crew  
Of damned Ghosts such Torments did lament,  
As threatened Crimes the Knight was to repent.  
Which sight, th' afflicted Hero, much dismayed,  
Of nothing but th' Almighty's Wrath afraid.  
Doubting that all the Courage of his Soul  
Might not his now despairing thoughts control.  
This by the Villain found, to him he brought  
All means of speedy Death that could be sought.  
Offering to him Ropes, Poisons, Sword, or Fire,  
So he'd soon choose by which he would expire.  
But when the Knight these Offers did withstand,  
The Wretch a Dagger keen gives him to hand:  
Bidding him deeply pierce his troubled Breast,  
And free from past and future Evils rest.  
Trembling the Hero did this gift receive,  
As in suspense if longer best to live.  
Whilst from his Heart past tidings to and fro  
By Looks, that did his Soul's disturbance show.  
At last proceeds to force his final Smart,  
Had Una not stepped 'twixt his Blow and Heart.  
Who interposing with affrighted look,  
The cursed Dagger from his hand she took:  
And in despite upon the ground it flung;  
Next lets him know from her becoming Tongue,  
The rash intention of his evil mind,  
And how such Actions leave their stain behind.  
Gild far more hellish than the Dragon's might,  
With whom you boldly late designed to fight.  
Clear first Despair's black Tincture from your heart,  
Lest deeds conspicuous fail your future part.  
And thus resolved leave soon this wicked place,  
Whose owner dares defy Celestial Grace.  
As she advised away they went in haste:  
Which as the Churl observed, and that his Guest  
Withdrew in safety, much the Wretch repined  
To live, the Ills not done which he designed.  
And choosing for his end a well-tried Rope,  
To hang himself he took a swinging scope.  
But death he could not by that means obtain,  
Which he a thousand times had proved in vain.  
Decreed, by Pluto, that he ne'er should die,  
But as he lived find sad Eternity.    

CANTO X.  
The Argument.  

The faithful Knight by Una's brought  
To Piety's Abode:  
Where he is strict Repentance taught,  
And led to Heaven's high Road.   

WHat force of human understanding can  
Against spiritual Foes defend th'assaulted man.  
When best disposed Mortals must confess,  
That 'tis Heaven's Grace that gives their Soul's success;  
And that their mortal Forms want Power or Will,  
Other than do proceed from Fonds of iii.  
This heavenly Una had beheld of late  
●n her loved Red-Cross Knights distressed Estate.  
Whose body's strength to feebleness impaired,  
●y delicate Food and Care she much repaired.  
●ut with far greater Diligence designed,  
●rom pious Comforts to confirm his mind.  
And by Heaven's cleansing Grace expunge the stain  
Which might of his late Blemish yet remain.  
Not distant far an ancient Fabric stood,  
Where numbers oft implored their supreme Good.  
And had been by a gracious Matron ruled,  
For Wisdom and best deeds divinely souled.  
Who tedious hours of Night did there implore,  
And daytime spent in giving to the Poor.  
This wondrous Woman for her heavenly Grace,  
Was Caelia called, thus living at this place.  
From Heaven, Fame tells, she did directly come,  
And here but patterned her Celestial Room.  
Of her were born three Daughters, far more fair,  
Then Woman's Beauty when beyond compare.  
Of which Fidelia's and Speranza's Fame,  
Tho both espoused, do Virgin-Glory claim.  
The third Charissa, whom a lovely Fear  
Enjoyed, and thence had many Pledges dear.  
Arrived they find the Door was watched and locked  
For fear of Foes, at which when they had knocked:  
An aged Porter with a Snow-white Head,  
Humilto called, and full of heavenly dread:  
Leaning upon his Staff, in humble sort,  
Admits their passage through this sacred Port.  
●ow they were forced to stoop as they passed in,  
To show best Actions humbly should begin.  
Being entered, they a spacious Court do see,  
Pleasant, and plain, and to all Walkers free.  
Where them a comely Person frankly meets,  
Who with best welcome their great Persons greets.  
●nd as he earnestly expressed the same,  
Conducts them till unto the Hall they came.  
There kindly them receives a gentle Squire,  
modest his Name, and Comely his Attire.  
●is Title Reverence, highly here renowned,  
●●om whom they due and grave Reception founed.  
〈◊〉 sober steps he leads 'em to his Dame,  
●he aged Mistress of this sacred Frame.  
Who busy at her Beads was all this while,  
●nd now just ended had her holy Toil.  
When rising up with well beseeming Grace,  
She Matron like towards them directs her pace.  
And as the matchless Una she beheld,  
Her Soul with most delightful Joy was filled.  
And her embracing said, O happy Earth,  
Where e'er thou treadest, more bright than Stars thy Birth.  
And in thy Virgin Person dost exceed  
All that of virtue's Goddess men can read.  
And by thy painful Travels soughtest to raise  
Thy Parents Succour, to thy endless Praise.  
What Grace inspired did you direct this way,  
Or did you, me not knowing, hither stray?  
Strange it is here an armed Knight to see,  
Or man that's raised by worldly Dignity.  
Hard 'tis for them Heaven's narrow Path to find,  
Whose Souls are to their boundless Pleasure's kind.  
Matron, says Una, hither I am addressed,  
My weary Limbs and this fair Knight to rest.  
Desirous to approach you, sacred Dame,  
Whose Praises far have spread your heavenly Fame.  
This holy Patroness having heard these words,  
Her kindly welcome to the Knight affords,  
Letting him know that for his firmest Rest,  
His mind should be by inward Comfort blest.  
And as they thus of sundry things had talked,  
Two lovely Virgins to this Presence walked:  
Demure their Looks, and with a modest Grace  
Moved Arm in Arm, still keeping equal pace.  
Of which the eldest was Fidelia bright,  
Whose Lustres shined like Stars of clearest light.  
Her Person in a milk-white Vest was clad,  
And in one hand a Golden Cup she had,  
With Wine and Water to the Brim up filled,  
In which a Serpent lay that Man had killed.  
A sight that gave to others horrid fear,  
Whilst her firm Brow most dauntless did appear.  
In t'other Hand a Book upright she held,  
Hard to be understood, and with Blood sealed.  
A shining Azure Vest Speranza wore,  
That was her constant Ornament before.  
But in her Visage less serene did seem,  
Than from Fidelia's Looks the Eye could deem.  
As if too near her in most thoughts did dwell  
Doubt, that her lively Hope strove to expel.  
Upon her Arm a Silver Anchor lay,  
And with erected Eyes she still did pray.  
They seeing Una towards her next move,  
T' express to her their Courtesy and Love.  
And since the Frailties of her Knight they knew,  
They blushed, yet for her sake him welcomed too.  
Gladly the Hero did receive this Grace  
From them whose Virtues claimed divinest place.  
And to requite their Favours does confess,  
That all Heroics aught to them address.  
Then Una asked what caused their Sister dear,  
The kind Charissa, now not to appear.  
Or wants she Health, or can't for business come  
Hither, and take next yours her lovely Room.  
Not so, said they, but forth she mayn't remove,  
Since late of her is born a Son of Love;  
That adds to her blessed number known before:  
May ne'er she want such, said fair Una, more.  
Nor shall my Visit now disturb her rest,  
Whose teeming mind so oft has others blest.  
Then answered aged Caelia, dearest Dame,  
Whose Virtues merit most embellished Fame.  
Accept with your great Hero such Repast,  
As your weak Strengths require for Sufferings past.  
My sacred Bowers shall freely that afford,  
But see that there he wears no Arms or Sword.  
Then calls she an Attendant, who him led  
Unto a fit Apartment's easy Bed.  
And when refreshed their Persons were by Rest:  
Of fair Fidelia, Una does request,  
That her loved Knight might in her School be placed,  
Till well his Soul should her high Science taste.  
Which granted, she the Red-Cross Knight does teach,  
How his thoughts might Heaven's sublime prospect reach.  
Then opes her sacred Book, which writ in Blood,  
None e'er without her aid had understood.  
And unto him discloseth every thing  
That did from Faith's mysterious Records spring.  
Letting him know the Wonders she had done,  
On Death and Life by firm Belief alone.  
And how her words the hasty Sun could stay,  
Or turn him back from his Ecliptic way.  
How Mountains from their Stations she could call,  
And bid 'em, Rubbidge-like, in Seas to fall.  
How Hosts of daring Men she could despise,  
By Power from Heaven, and them by Foes surprise.  
These words improved the Knight in little space  
To such Perfection of Celestial Grace,  
As he began to loathe the World and Life,  
And Sin that heretofore with him had strife:  
Throughly confessing his Soul's deep dismay,  
And how he wished to end his wretched day.  
But wise Speranza softer Comfort gave,  
Teaching him how on Hope his Trust to have.  
And as he did her Silver Anchor see,  
Not to despair of best Eternity:  
Or from his Soul's discomfits to forget  
The Truth which before him her Sister set.  
But Una as she saw her Knight distressed,  
From inward guilt that yet his mind oppressed:  
To divine Caelia sadly this imparts,  
Who well knew how to discipline sinful Hearts.  
And often did their Remedies assure  
By Patience, her Physician for his Cure.  
A grave experienced Man he did appear,  
And Doctor-like did reverend Habit wear.  
The Knight's deep Wound he searched, and did apply  
From Salves and Medicines precious Remedy;  
That soon assuaged his body's painful plight,  
And vigorous had restored him unto sight.  
With his famed Physic words he did instill,  
Of wondrous use to cure Man's spiritual Ill  
But found his Patient's mind was festered sore  
By inward Griefs, which hard were to explore.  
Within a darksum Cave the Knight he laid,  
Till his strong corrosives their search had made:  
And with strict Diet all the while does tame  
The flesh that nourished had his vicious Flame.  
Sackcloth and Ashes there he on him casts,  
And for his Diet does appoint long Fasts.  
With many Prayers early said and late,  
That might his inward Rancours best abate.  
And ever as superfluous Flesh did rot,  
He plucked that forth by Pincers burning hot.  
Instead of which, Amendment did repair  
His Body, till from all Corruption clear.  
With these he bitter Penance oft did feel,  
From his Physician's Whip of hardest Steel.  
Whilst his grieved Heart so sharply felt remorse,  
As from his Eyes it bloody drops did force.  
In these Extremes he often loud does roar,  
And Lion-like, his flesh for anger tore.  
Which as his Una heard, by Shrieks and Groans  
His severe Sufferings deeply she bemoans.  
Tearing awhile her comely Vest and Hair,  
Till calmer Thoughts advised her to sorbear.  
For well she knew his Soul could ne'er be clean,  
Till Grief and Patience had his Curers been.  
Now by degrees his mind of Gild was eased,  
And all his personal Torments full appeased.  
When lovely Una joyful of his Cures,  
To cherish him her constant help assures.  
And kissing him, with kindest words besought  
That he'd no more of bad deeds past take thought.  
Mean while Charissa had recovered well  
The Labours which in Childbed her befell.  
To whom illustrious Una now addressed,  
And for more welcome makes her Knight a Guest.  
She was a Woman in her Beauty's prime,  
Equalled for Grace and Bounty by no time.  
Full of great Love, but Cupid's wanton Skill  
As Hell she hated, and all Actions ill.  
Her Neck and plenteous Breasts were ever bare,  
Whence her pleased Babes did suck their milky fare.  
Of which a many round about her hung,  
And sporting smiled as joyed she looked or sung.  
These still she fed whilst they were young and weak,  
And when grown older care for them did take.  
Upon her head she wore a Tire of Gold,  
Adorned with Gems most precious to behold.  
And by her side did sit of Doves a Pair,  
As she was resting in her Ivory Chair.  
The Knight and Una to her being come,  
Congratulate her happy teeming Womb.  
Who them receives as courteously as kind,  
Th' effects of her still cheerful Mien and Mind.  
Then Una her besought that since this Knight  
Had suffered much sharp Penance day and night:  
That she'd, from her divine exceeding Grace,  
Upon his Soul her glorious Precepts place.  
Joyful at this Request Charissa seemed,  
Who good to do her chiefest pleasure deemed.  
An ancient Matron she to her does call,  
Her Name was Mercy, wise and liberal.  
Unto whose careful Charge the Knight she gave,  
That his Soul might from her best Comfort have.  
This godly Person by the Hand him takes,  
And taking leave this Presence so forsakes.  
But soon a narrow way they were to pass,  
Where bushy Thorns and ragged Briers was.  
Which kindly she removed from out his way,  
That nothing might his ready Passage stay.  
And if his Feet encumbered were, or swerved,  
This careful Guide his steps soon right preserved.  
Till in short time the Hero she does bring  
T'a Hospital devoted to Heaven's King.  
Where seven most holy Beadsmen long did dwell,  
Spending their days in Prayer and doing well.  
Their Gates to all stood open evermore,  
At which one sat to feed the hungry Poor.  
And did the wanting Traveller invite,  
To be there full refreshed both day and night.  
The first of them, more ancient than the rest,  
Was for their holy Stewardship held best.  
Who many years had in that Office spent,  
Giving Relief to all that thither went.  
But none he entertained that could requite,  
Or feast in turns as Epicures delight.  
The second was an Almoner of the place,  
Who for the Poor took care, a work of Grace.  
No Treasure he e'er cared to leave behind,  
Other than Goodness issuing from his mind.  
His Talon was enough, and asked no more,  
And were it less, of that he'd give the Poor.  
The third the keeping of their Wardrobe had,  
Whence all but the luxurious Man was clad.  
Where fitting Raiment only he laid by  
For such no clothes to cover them could buy.  
Glad when he naked Nature did array,  
Since 'tis God's Image stamped on earthly Clay.  
And when no Garments he could others give,  
With his own Coat cut out he'd them relieve.  
The fourth a goodly Officer was made,  
Who Sums to discharge Prisoners daily paid.  
With such by wicked power were captive held,  
Or pined in Chains where Turkish Bashaws dwelled.  
And if they faulty were, yet well he weighed  
That God had Mercy to bad men displayed.  
And he that o'er Hell triumphed by his Power,  
From thence Souls led unto his heavenly Bower.  
The fifth had Charge sick Persons to attend,  
And comfort them when nearest their Life's end.  
And for their Souls such Cordials to prepare,  
As might discharge all Symptoms of Despair.  
When Sin and Death would most the mind dismay,  
As Soul and Body feel their parting Day.  
The sixth had handsome Care of Bodies dead:  
Which he, like Owners of a Nuptial Bed,  
With Flowers adorned of the choicest sort,  
And thus with them did to the Grave resort.  
To show that Man, whom other Creatures fear,  
Should dead be honoured with a reverend care.  
The seventh in Office, after Burial done,  
Did unto Widow's Orphans his help own.  
Who for them oft in highest Courts would plead,  
And there no Power of greatest Mortals dread.  
With Pains and Purse he each just Cause did aid,  
And where want was, their total Charges paid.  
When hither was the famous Knight arrived,  
The first, his welcome, of the seven contrived.  
And seeing that Dame Mercy him did guide,  
With lowest Reverence he to her applied.  
And for her fit Reception did prepare,  
As one they held their Patroness most dear.  
And next Charissa, whom they Founder deemed,  
Was by this holy Order best esteemed.  
Here kindly she the Knight refreshed awhile,  
Enabling him for further pious Toil:  
Till when she him instructs in gracious Deeds;  
And Mercy, which serenest thence proceeds.  
Whilst by degrees he felt such inward Bliss,  
As nothing in his Soul was found amiss.  
When painfully unto a Hill they pass,  
On whose high top a sacred Chapel was.  
Next which a little Hermitage was raised,  
Wherein an aged Man his Maker praised:  
Inspired to wonder by divinest Flame,  
Who then had Contemplation for his Name.  
And though through Age his Eyes had lost their sight,  
In mind he oft saw God's sublimest height.  
And what past present future time could show,  
By his prophetic Soul he fully knew.  
To him the Hero with his Guide ascends,  
But weary grows before his Journey ends.  
Which when his Conduct Mercy had perceived,  
She him supports till to the top arrived.  
Where they this holy person do behold,  
Who looked, than longest living man, more old:  
His hoary Locks beneath his Shoulders hung,  
Like Frosty Curls on Trees when Winter's long.  
Each Bone and Sinew of his Body seen,  
A perfect Skeleton, excepting Skin.  
Food he ne'er sought when tedious was his Fast,  
Who had from spiritual Comforts full Repast.  
When these approaching him he did discern,  
He them beheld at first with some concern.  
Admiring whence this Man of Arms should come,  
In hope to find, where he resided, room.  
And had it not been for kind Mercy's Dame,  
He 'twards the Knight had neither looked, or came.  
But when he judged that she was his Support,  
He asked for what to him they did resort?  
No end, says she, did on our Souls prevail,  
This wondrous Hill by painful Steps to scale:  
But from thy grave direction to arise,  
Where Heaven is seated far above all Skies.  
Nor can we doubt to pass each Door or Way,  
Since wise Fidelia has given thee her Key.  
Happy, thou Man, this aged Father said,  
That to assist thy Steps couldst gain her aid.  
What better than her Genius can define  
The Path to Heaven, where numerous Angels shine?  
Yet since 'tis asked, to thee I will make known  
What I ne'er yet revealed to Fairy's Son:  
And soon direct thee into such a way,  
From whence the careful Soul can never stray.  
But first some time to Prayer and Fasting give,  
That thou mayst spiritual cleansing thence receive.  
Which done, he leads him to the highest Mount,  
Like that where God his Laws to Man did count.  
Or that famed Hill of Olives all around,  
On which the godly oft their Saviour found.  
Or like that pleasant Mount, from whence some say  
The heavenly Nine their inspired Verse convey.  
Next he a distant little Path doth show,  
Which steep and long appeared unto their View:  
And to a goodly City led along,  
Whose Walls and Towers were built with precious Stone.  
The blessed abode of God's elected Tribe,  
Too excellent for Mortal to describe.  
As here they gazed, they Angels did behold,  
That every way took flight on Wings of Gold▪  
And did in passing one another greet,  
Like Friend and Friend that most obliging meet.  
This new jerusalem is, the old Man said,  
That God hath for his Saints bright dwelling made▪  
Who are more dearly welcome to his sight,  
Than Younglings which their Dams do most delight.  
Till now, replied the Knight, I judged amiss,  
In thinking Fairy Land's Cleopolis,  
Did no less Cities far renowned exceed,  
Than its Queen does all other Queens precede.  
I grant, than said the aged holy Man,  
That no Abodes of mortal Being's can  
In Fame's account Cleopolis excel:  
Or its fair Princess there who rules so well.  
Nor shall e'er Hero more exalt his Name,  
Than by brave Deeds to serve that Royal Dame.  
And thou, best Youth, of noble English Blood,  
How e'er, for Fairy Son, yet understood.  
Let thy Arms still the desolate Una aid,  
But when thy Deeds have well her Merit paid;  
High amongst famous Relics place thy Shield,  
And never more engage in bloody Field.  
For War can nought but Sin and Sorrow bring,  
As the unruly Ocean whence they spring.  
But peaceably this Path seek I have shown,  
Till by degrees Heaven's Blessings thee shall own.  
For thou amongst the holy, seen by thee,  
As I presage, in future time shalt be.  
And from fair England's Value of thy Fame,  
Be called brave George, and sainted by that Name.  
Think not thyself unworthy of this Grace,  
●ince yours is now th' amended Sinner's Case▪  
But godly Patron, must my Soul decline  
Woman's fair Sex so much esteemed by mine  
Or ceased soft Wishes, shall I next restrain  
All further Glory which my Sword might gain▪  
Son, I perceive thou fond dost mistake  
The future Prospect which thy Soul shall take▪  
For Battles never can by thee be fought,  
Where everlasting Peace by all is sought▪  
When all impure Desires and human Ill,  
Shall vanish with man's unrefined Will.  
O might I, Father, not return again  
Unto low Earth where Sin was late my Stain.  
But let me with thee still continue here,  
That nothing may my present Hope impair.  
What thou requirest, dear Knight, I can't concede,  
Since, for blessed Una, Heaven requires thy aid.  
She did unto thy Trust her Cause commit,  
And from her Foes thy Arms should her acquit.  
Then will I, aided by Heaven's strengthening Grace,  
Assist this Virgin and her Royal Race.  
Which done, a Pilgrim's Habit next I'll take,  
And back returned, will here my Offerings make.  
Mean while, thou blessed Man, to me relate,  
Whom all a Fairy's Son do nominate,  
How 'twas revealed to thee, or understood,  
That I'm derived from valiant English Blood.  
The Story soon I'll make thee understand,  
And by what means thou cam'st to Fairy Land:  
For well I know, that thy great Lineage springs  
From the most famed of England's Saxon Kings.  
And whence a Fairy, you not knowing, took,  
As you a Babe your sleeping Nurse did suck.  
And in your Room another Infant left,  
Like those called Changelings, from such wondrous Theft.  
This subtle Creature, or some Elfish Spirit,  
With you a Babe to Fairy Land took flight:  
Where in a Furrow you she hid a while,  
Until discovered by the Plough-man's Toil.  
The hardy Swain admiring did behold  
Looks in your Visage more than Infant bold.  
For which he soon you sprightly George did name,  
And taught you young the ruffest rural Game.  
When, after ripened, your Souls brave effort,  
You gained a Hero's Praise at Fairy Court.  
O sacred Man, how shall I you requite,  
That my obscured Birth have told aright?  
And by your boundless Science me have shown  
The way that leads to blessed Seats alone.  
Which said, he looked toward the lower ground.  
That passage back might heedfully be found.  
But proved his piercing Eyes were yet amazed,  
In having here on Heaven's bright Objects gazed.  
At last his Senses better did conspire,  
How he to his loved Una might retire.  
To whom, when found, he gladly did declare,  
That for her Service he'd soon armed appear.  
And next to take their kindest leave agree  
Of reverend Caelia, and her Daughters three.    

CANTO XI.  
The Argument.  

The Hero and the Dragon old  
Two days their Battles fight:  
The third he does him slain behold,  
By his surpassing Might.   

Time's winged hours by Una slow were thought,  
Till Aid was to her Royal Parents brought:  
And from the Dragon's monstrous Siege relieved,  
By which their Rule and Persons long was grieved:  
And now arrived unto this Martial Sphere,  
Her Heroine Virtue soon dispels all fear.  
Joining such Motives to her beauteous Charms,  
As most obliged her Hero's haste to Arms.  
Then bids him well observe her native Soil,  
And how the hated Fiend does it despoil.  
The wicked Cause whence all their Sufferings came,  
And which removed, must far exalt his Name.  
Yonder behold the famous Brazen Tower,  
Still straight besieged by the Monster's Power:  
Whilst my dear Parents, yet from Bondage free,  
Appearing on its top, I joyful see.  
Their careful Watchman likewise on the Wall,  
T'inform 'em gladly when good Tidings call.  
And now was heard a strange outrageous sound,  
That seemed to shake Earth's firmest centred ground.  
When they a horrid Dragon had espied,  
That lay far stretched on a Hill's Sunny-side.  
Or like a Mountain on a Mountain laid,  
Had unto wonder his vast Bulk displayed.  
But as he saw the glistering armed Knight,  
He roused himself like Beast disposed to fight.  
Which seen, this Chief his Lady does desire  
Unto a Mount adjacent to retire.  
Whence she aloft this battle's proof might view,  
And what his Prowess for her sake durst do.  
Now sacred Muse, to Phoebus' brightest Dame,  
The Nurse of Time, and long conspicuous Fame:  
Kindly instil into my feeble Breast  
Flames without Rage, which thy Wit suiteth best.  
Whose Song can smoothly Martial Hearts excite,  
And unconstrained compel their fierce delight.  
Let Verse so here the God of War awake,  
Whilst Nations far his stern Alarms take.  
Now towards the Knight was moved this mighty Beast,  
Using at once his Wings and Feet for haste:  
Who from his hideous Shape and Shade's extent,  
To distant Eyes preceding Terror sent.  
Approaching near, his matchless Bulk he raised,  
And full erected, on the Hero gazed.  
With Brazen Scales his mighty Corpse was armed,  
That from no Weapon's force he might be harmed:  
And like a Vulture seeing her wished-for Prey,  
Rouzeth with joy his Plumes, and speeds that away.  
Whose mighty Wings larger than Sails appeared,  
When winds that spread their length on Seas are heard.  
Or as the sound of clashed Armour rings,  
A noise he made with his hard Scales and Wings.  
In wreathed folds his Tail o'respreads his Back,  
Bespotted all with Colours Red and Black.  
Which when stretched out three Furlongs was in length,  
And had two pointed ends of sharpest Strength.  
Whose Stings were far exceeded by his Paws,  
And these as much by his most ravenous Jaws:  
Which gaped like the devouring Mouth of Hell,  
That none knew how deep what he swallowed fell.  
Three ranks of Iron Teeth each Jaw had filled,  
Whence trickled Blood of Creatures by him killed.  
Whilst his polluted Bosom did disperse  
A smoky Stench too foul to name by Verse.  
His angry Eyes more blazing Flames did yield,  
Than Beacons burning on the lofty Field:  
But far within, to cast a dismal Shade,  
These Lamps were set as in a hollow glade.  
And now exalting of his speckled Breast,  
To meet the Knight he terribly addressed.  
And with an eager joy does often bound  
Like playful Kids upon the grassy Ground.  
When the bold Hero couching of his Spear,  
To combat him undaunted does appear:  
But could not with his powerful Strength or Steel  
Cause this hard Monster any Wound to feel.  
Yet so puissant did his source prevail,  
As it the Dragon felt, and bend his Tail.  
Which in high Rage he swiftly circled round,  
And with it brushed both Man and Horse to ground.  
But soon the Knight and Steed were up again,  
And next this direful Beast assault amain:  
Far closer charged, than e'er by human Power  
He'ad been attacked unto that fatal hour.  
Which felt, his lapping Wings he does display,  
And like a moving Cloud mounts high away.  
Whilst as the Air his boisterous Pinnions beat,  
Rough winds they raised aloft to bear his weight:  
And having thus some time took slight around,  
He stooping snatched the mounted Knight from ground.  
When grasping Man and Horse he soared more high  
Than Arrow from the strongest Bow can fly.  
Till struggling long they him at last constrained,  
Like Hawk that has a Fowl too hardy gained,  
With weary Pounces to decline his height,  
And low as Earth engaged his Prey to fight.  
The Man and Dragon buckling thus had fell,  
Nor could the Monster's Gripes or Strength compel  
The warlike Hero his Steed's seat to quit,  
Or the brave manage of his foaming Bit.  
When giving Spurs unto his eager Force,  
At one bold blow plunge the wondrous Knight and Horse  
Themselves from this vast Dragon's Clutches free,  
And charge him fiercely now at liberty.  
When this great Warrior guides his fierce Career,  
And against the Dragon's Breast applies his Spear,  
Which, glancing under his lift Wing, did find  
A passage where his Heart was nearly joined.  
Which wound received, the Monster louder roars  
Than waves that loudest sound on Northern shores:  
When earth they strive to shoulder from her seat,  
Or as the blustering Breed of Aeolus threat  
To toss Earth's Globe like to a sported Ball:  
Or for Revenge on one another fall.  
Fast stuck embrued in gore the pointed Steel,  
Which as this Beast did sticking in him feel,  
With his strong Claws he tore the wood in vain,  
Whilst in the wound its Point does still remain.  
When, from the Orifice, his cursed Blood  
Overflows the Surface like an Inland Flood.  
His hideous Tail around him then he plies,  
And with it wraps the Knight's Steed's nimble thighs,  
Whose Courage strives this wondrous Knot to rend,  
But finds he doth more hampered still contend:  
That to the ground by force he is constrained  
To fling his Knight, where foulest blood him stained.  
Whilst he on foot soon wields his shining Blade,  
And with thick blows does this vast Fiend invade.  
Which as he feels, his Station he declined;  
Like one afraid when Battle close is joined.  
Yet as he wheeled, the Knight does him attack,  
But could not pierce his Brazen Scales or Back.  
Tho now he irksome felt his former wound,  
And strives with his hurt Wing to fly from ground:  
When feeling his huge Pinnion's strength decayed,  
More loud, than Dragon e'er was heard, he brayed.  
And full enraged, he gaping wide does vent  
Far fiercer Flames than if from Ovens sent.  
Which flashing on the Hero's Beard and Face,  
His Visage like a Comet seemed to blaze.  
But much severer did his person feel  
The glowing heat that scorched his Armour's Steel:  
That hardly he endured his cruel plight,  
Or Arms that seared his Skin like Thunder's light.  
Not that vast Champion of the ancient World,  
Whom Poets for vast Labours have extolled;  
Could furious Perils with this Chief compare,  
When against devouring Centaurs he made War.  
Whilst here this Hero Toils had undergone,  
That have no equals in Heroic Song.  
Whom Steel now burnt, that him before did arm,  
What man had e'er endured such fatal Harm?  
Faint, weary, scoarched, nay hopeless of Relief,  
At once his outward was and inward Grief.  
To end his Torment Death he oft desired,  
But death yields least to come when most required.  
As thus dismayed the Dragon him beheld,  
His sturdy stern he with Disdain does wield.  
And that he might his Conquest fully show,  
Strikes the brave Knight to ground at one rough blow.  
From ancient time here sprung a wondrous Well,  
Into whose depth by chance this Hero fell:  
And which had Virtue beyond other Flood,  
T'effect on Mortals Medicinal good.  
Whose waves before this Dragon had defiled,  
The far admired Springs of Life were styled:  
Such as could age convert to youthful Bloom,  
And healthful cleanse Diseases foulest room.  
The dead to life they often had restored,  
And Sin washed off as Bathers here implored.  
Now Phoebus finished had the burning day,  
When this prodigious Dragon hoped to slay  
The afflicted Knight, whom with contempt he cast  
Into this Well, which done, his speckled Breast  
Aloft he raised, and like a Victor proud,  
Insulting claps his Iron Wings aloud.  
Which as the pensive Lady saw afar,  
She feared the end of this stupendious War.  
And prostrate on her Knees to Heaven did pray,  
That Stars this Dragon might defeat or slay.  
Nor from this Posture did that night remove,  
But watchfully still prayed, and wept for Love.  
Until Aurora showed her blushing Face,  
When moved this beauteous Virgin from her place:  
Her search and beaming Eyes employed around,  
Yet as she seeks still finds her Fears abound.  
Having too late beheld her dear loved Knight,  
Like to some vanquished Foe to fall by fight.  
At last perceived him from the Well to rise,  
Fresh as a new bathed Eagle mounts the Skies:  
After his older Plumes in waves he sheds,  
And in their stead more youthful Feathers spreads.  
Or as young Hawks their tender Pinions try,  
Yet wonder at themselves when first they fly:  
So was this Hero at himself amazed,  
As thus renewed for Battle he was raised.  
Whom when refreshed the wondering Fiend did spy,  
He doubts if this was his late Enemy.  
Who fiercely brandishing his shining Blade,  
Against the Dragon's Scalp a strong blow made:  
Which to his Scull so deep a passage cleft,  
That it the mighty Beast of Sense bereft.  
What Muse can tell how his revengeful Steel  
Did from these sacred Streams Assistance feel:  
Since until now no approved armed Hand  
Could this Fiend's subtle fraud and power withstand.  
Who now enraged to see his bleeding gore,  
Does loud as many hungry Lions roar.  
And lifting his far reaching Tail on high,  
Scourgeth, as Slaves to him, the Air and Sky.  
Then downwards moves his rancrous sting to smite  
In some most vital part the Red-Cross Knight:  
Which pierced his Shoulder through his weighty shield,  
And stuck like darted Piles in Martial Field.  
Down fell the Hero, painfully oppressed,  
Nor could his wound by Patience be redressed.  
Which seen, the Dragon by his Sting assayed  
To pin him to the ground where he was laid:  
Who, in this posture, would not conquered be,  
Conscious of former Fame and Victory,  
But with a matchless strength upright does rise,  
And to pull forth the Sting his hand applies.  
But finding that he struggled had in vain,  
He grasps his Sword to cut the Sting in twain.  
And struck so hard, that five vast Joints he cloven  
From the Fiend's Tail, and but the Stump him left.  
What can express the strange outrageous Cry,  
That from this hellish Monster's Throat did fly?  
With Steams of Smoak that darkened heavenly light,  
More than thick Fogs which rise with Ghosts at night.  
And now, at once his valiant Foe to kill,  
Employs his winged force and utmost skill.  
And laying his Claws upon the Knight's bright shield,  
Strives, as his Trophy, to seize that in field.  
Much was the Man encumbered by his hold,  
Not judging how he might his Gripes unfold.  
Nor harder 'twas from Cerberus greedy Jaws  
To force a Morsel, than to move his Claws.  
But when no struggling Toils the Knight availed,  
With his keen Sword the Dragon he assailed:  
And did such strenuous blows against him apply,  
As he forced Sparks, like those, from Anvils fly.  
Until the Beast one grasping Foot withdraws,  
To aid, his Bulk assaulted, by his Claws.  
Whilst he with t'other strongly gripes the Shield,  
Resolved, to quit that hold, he'd never yield.  
Although this Hero, by his prosperous fight,  
From the huge Joint the Paw had severed quite.  
When, unto wonder, does the Knight behold  
Its footless Talons still his Shield to hold.  
Vexed with this loss, not Aetna's boiling Stew  
Venteth such Flames as does the Monster now▪  
With which a pestilential Blast he sends,  
That noisomly his Combatant offends:  
Forcing his person backward to retire,  
But as he trod he slipped, and fell in Mire.  
Nor ever was his Courage so dismayed,  
When, against Hell's Breed, before he Arms displayed.  
Near to his fall there grew a lovely Tree,  
For Fruit more goodly than e'er Eye did see:  
And had such power, that who on it could eat,  
Had thence Life happier than all human breed.  
Th' Almighty's only Plant, who does it call  
The Tree of Life, ere Man provoked his fall.  
Near unto this another high aspired,  
That was of Eden's growth the most admired.  
Perfect its shape, of Colour sparkling Green,  
Purer than in best Emeralds rays is seen.  
In all the world none like these could be found,  
Here only springing from most blessed ground:  
Where best Fruit grew without man's skilful Toil,  
Till this foul Dragon did pollute this Soil.  
And but the Tree of Life did here remain,  
And this of Knowledge which he durst not slain.  
From the first Tree of these a Balm distilled,  
Whose sovereign Juice th' adjacent Plain had filled.  
Long health and life this wondrous Moisture gave,  
And could the dead revive when laid in Grave.  
Where this Dew was by chance this Hero fell,  
Which Universal Medicine did expel  
The many Maladies he had endured,  
And could not without Miracle be cured.  
The damned Beast durst ne'er approach this place,  
Tho willing to destroy its quickening Grace.  
And now advanced the gloomy Team of Night,  
When setting Stars did man's Repose invite.  
Just as fair Una saw her Lover fall,  
And feared that in him was no life at all:  
Whilst in a Dream he lay with full delight,  
Where Balm had flowed that cured his scorched plight.  
Which she not guessing long deplored his Case,  
Wishing by day once more to see his Face.  
Till smooth Aurora pitying of her Grief,  
In haste does rise to yield her Soul Relief.  
And as she did remove, from Skies, the dark,  
Best notes salute her of the early Lark.  
When the Knight rose refreshed from balmy ground,  
Who more than e'er his Strength now strenuous found:  
And putting on his shining Arms and Shield,  
Against the Dragon once more takes the field.  
Which watchful Foe does early him await,  
Prepared to kill him by the swiftest Fate.  
But when he saw the Hero's dauntless Grace,  
And the fresh Vigours of his warlike Face:  
The hardy Fiend th' approaching Battle fears,  
Tho Champion like th' Aggressor he appears.  
And at the first Encounter gaped more wide,  
Than Sea-breach forced by some outrageous Tide:  
Hoping the Hero with his Teeth to grind,  
Or else at once to swallow him designed.  
The Knight observing of his open Jaw,  
Thrust down his Sword and pierced him to the Maw:  
Which felt, he back retiring, vomits Blood,  
Whilst his cursed life expired in the Flood.  
Thus died this Beast, and as he fell he shook  
The Earth, as if her Axis then had broke.  
Whose wondrous Corpse like to a Mountain lay,  
Or 〈◊〉 torn from Land by some rough Sea.  
The valiant Knight, even trembling, heard his fall,  
But more his Lady who observed all:  
Until from full assurance she believed  
That her worst Foe was of his Life bereaved.  
For which she praised Heaven, and next her Knight,  
Whose Prowess had such wonders done by fight.    

CANTO XII.  
The Argument.  

Fair Una to the Red-Cross Knight  
Betrothed is with joy:  
Tho false Duessa it to spite  
Does vile Deceit employ.   

NOt gladder steers the Pilot when his Sails  
Approach the wished-for Port with merry gales:  
Than my Muse does th' Illustrious Una guide  
Unto her longed-for Haven now descried.  
And there a while in Jubilees of Verse,  
The merit of her Love and Fame disperse.  
Mean time ere Phoebus rose above the Earth  
To give to Infant-day a beaming Birth,  
Far from this wondrous Fortress was beheld,  
How the Knight had the Fiend to death compelled:  
As from his dying Entrails Steams ascend,  
Like a demolished Castle's smoky end.  
When, to his King, the Watchman loud did call,  
Letting him know with joy the Dragon's Fall.  
The aged Sovereign of this happy Soil,  
Long had with Grief observed the Dragon's spoil:  
And with what speed his feeble Feet could make,  
Ascends where now he might best Prospect take.  
Thence to discern, if tidings Truth did tell,  
Which said by human Power the Fiend had fell.  
But as his Eye with gladness did behold  
His Foe lie dead upon the dusty Mould:  
He unto all proclaims the welcome Fate,  
And bids 'em open wide his Brazen Gate.  
Then Trumpets in triumphant manner blaze  
This strange success, and to Skies Echoes raise:  
Whilst throngs of People, as from Thraldom freed,  
With solemn Plaudits high extol the deed.  
And when things were in stately order set,  
And all degrees of Persons duly met.  
The tall and martial Youth before the rest  
Marched in their Ranks, like youthful Hero's dressed.  
Who Laurel Branches in each hand did bear,  
To show that Peace discharged their warlike Care.  
Next these appeared the aged King and Queen,  
Whose comely Persons gravely clad were seen:  
Such as in ancient time great Princes wore,  
When against their Foes they did Heaven's aid implore.  
Around these Sovereigns many Nobles moved,  
In Peace and War for Wisdom high approved:  
Long Gowns their Habit was, and in their Mien  
Grave, as wise senate's are in Counsel seen.  
Thus passing on they to the Hero came,  
Whom first the young their Saviour loud proclaim,  
And humbly at his Feet their Laurels strew,  
Craving his Conduct when to war they go.  
In Snow-white Vestures, decked with Garlands long,  
Sweeter than Birds in Bowers the Virgins sung.  
And with fine fingers did on Timbrels play,  
As their neat Feet danced Measures all the way.  
Until they came where beauteous Una stood,  
Whom more they reverenced than all human blood.  
The many Vulgar, that with longing Eye  
Crowd to behold the things of Novelty,  
And would be thought Proprietors of Fame,  
Because their Ears and Tongues most number claim:  
Now staring, haste, and, as throngs usual do,  
Added perhaps some Marvels to the true.  
Some doubting if they him should Man allow,  
Whose Prowess did the Dragon overthrow;  
Or not more fitly, as in times of old,  
When Men their Hero's Demigods did hold;  
The Knight some such Heroic now declare,  
Who had the Monster killed with Sword and Spear.  
But when they come where the huge Beast lay dead,  
Some fearing ●●●pt, whilst some with Horror fled.  
Doubting least sparks of Life might yet remain  
Within the Fiend, by which they might be slain.  
Till of the hardy sort some felt his Jaws,  
And free from hurt, next sported with his Paws.  
Whilst Mothers with their Infants at their Breast,  
Sat goshopping on Limbs of this slain Beast:  
And smiled to see how many Acres length  
The bulk extended of his former Strength.  
Now had the aged King with all his Train  
Arrived where the Victor did remain:  
Whom he does with most thankful Looks behold,  
And gave him gifts whose Value can't be told.  
But when his beauteous Daughter he beheld,  
Whose Merit, more than words could praise, excelled:  
With high Endearments he doth her embrace,  
His Eyes ore-filled with Joy when seen her Face.  
And next unto his Palace does 'em bring,  
Ushered by Music to which Voices sing:  
As all the way rich Eastern Silks were spread,  
On which for Triumph their great Persons tread.  
Till passing on they to the Court ascend,  
Where nought was wanted that should Courts commend.  
Tho in that ancient time were seldom found  
Th' Excesses which in latter do abound.  
And when from Meats and Drinks of goodly kind,  
Their Appetites did cheerful filness find.  
This gracious Prince the Knight did entertain,  
By telling famed Transactions of his Reign:  
And what admired Adventures he had past,  
As Fortune him, when young, on Perils cast.  
Then speaks of Hero's to his youth were known,  
And how their Arms and Love had gained renown.  
Desiring next the Red-Cross Knight to tell  
In fewest words, what Perils him befell:  
Since he had dangerous Regions travelled far,  
Ere to his Glory here he ended War.  
To which the Knight, as one that least designed  
That his words to his Praises should be joined,  
By modest Brevity does all rehearse,  
Which Fame would have her amplest Tongues disperse.  
His Story with due Joy and Grief they heard,  
As its strange turns occasioned their regard.  
Sometimes applauding his Success by Smiles,  
And pitied when 'twas fit as much his Toils.  
Nor tearless could the King and Queen appear,  
As he some sharp Diasters does declare.  
The aged King within whose Princely Soul  
Compassion did with gentlest Conduct rule,  
Desired the Hero to express no more  
Than piteous minds would willingly explore.  
Nor did he judge that his heard-hearted Foes,  
Would not lament if known to them his Woes.  
But whether Praise or Pity should precede,  
Was in his Case too doubtful to concede.  
And that in future he might not engage  
In perilous Fields, where Fate does wildest rage.  
This wondrous Victor he invites to rest  
Still in his Court, which his Success had blest.  
Ah, dearest Prince! the Red-Cross Knight replied,  
My Stars have quiet yet to me denied:  
For by a Vow that's writ upon my Shield,  
Six years to serve the Fairy Queen in Field  
Against a Pagan King engaged I stand,  
An impious Foe that now despoils her Land.  
This known to Una was, your Daughter dear,  
Ere I arrived to fight the Dragon here.  
And free you Eden's King, and your famed Soil,  
As Heaven has favoured since my warlike Toil.  
And since for Arms here's nothing left to do,  
I crave, best Prince, to take soon leave of you.  
Sorry I am, replied the King, to hear  
The time of your departure is so near.  
But whatsoever you have by Vow designed,  
Let it your Soul, as Heaven requireth, bind:  
However I your Merits would endear,  
Or think, you my Court honoured, staying here.  
Six years to serve the Fairy Queen ye have vowed,  
(A virtuous Princess by the World allowed)  
Which Periods finished hither come again,  
And to my Comfort with me still remain▪  
When you in Marriage shall my Una have,  
And at my end my Throne to both I'll leave.  
Next, to come forth his Daughter does command,  
And to her Knights does join her snow-white hand.  
Who having now her mournful Veil laid by,  
That she had worn in long Adversity,  
Not Morningstar that does a Cloud forsake,  
So bright could out of Eastern Skies ere break.  
Her Vest more white than finest Silver Thread,  
Or Lilies when in May o'er Fields they spread.  
Whilst all admired her Person, Mien and Face,  
Like Charms of Love refined by chastest Grace:  
Too far above the power of smoothest Verse,  
Her least Attractions duly to rehearse.  
And what did present wonder highest raise,  
Her Knight, like some new Lover, her does praise:  
As if her Lustres which he now beheld,  
Had in her Form before less heavenly dwelled.  
Her tall and slender Person low she bowed,  
And to her Father her Content avowed.  
Since to the man his Will did her dispose,  
Whom, of all Mortals, her Affection chose.  
And now ere ended what she had to say,  
A person to this Presence speeds his way:  
Whose Garb and Looks did equal haste imply,  
Like one that with strange News did thither fly.  
Or such as when the Dragon lay in wait,  
Had first Alarm given this Royal State.  
And when the Sovereign's person he had found,  
He low before him fell, and kissed the ground:  
And next a Letter of Import presents,  
Which to the King discloseth these Contents.  
To you great Eden's Prince this Writing's scent,  
In which you'll see a Virgin's Soul lament,  
By wicked Man injuriously distressed,  
Tho she's sole Heir to th' Emperor of the West:  
And bids your Greatness well advised be,  
Lest you add to her Infelicity:  
By marrying Una to the Red-Cross Knight,  
To whom I justly claim precedent Right:  
Who, me sad Maid, or rather Widow sad,  
By all Love could express affyanced had.  
Witness the holy Altars where he swore,  
Which though his vows polluted have before,  
The rather I'll for Justice thither fly,  
And them conjure t' avenge my Jnjury.  
But since he's justly mine, whether false or true,  
Or dead, or living, mine he shall be too.  
Nor think your Power howe'er accounted great,  
Shall, unrevenged by power, my Love defeat.  
This I Fidessa bid you timely know,  
Who yet herself subscribes not Friend or Foe.  
The King when he this daring Letter read,  
Was at its Purport long astonished:  
Not well conceiving upon what pretence  
Should come to him this Woman's threatening sense:  
Since he ne'er injured had vowed Lovers right,  
Nor would excuse it in the Red-Cross Knight.  
And musing thus a while no word he spoke,  
Until he solemn silence thus did break:  
Looking upon the Hero with some Fear,  
Lest these Lines might unhandsome Deeds declare,  
Requires at length that truth might be confessed,  
Howe'er 'twas charged or did affect his Breast.  
Or unto Una's Grief unkindly name  
The Love he plighted to some other Dame.  
Since human fault, when 'tis confessed betime,  
Heaven most obligeth to forgive the Crime.  
To which the Red-Cross Knight this Answer made,  
Be not, great King, at specious words dismayed;  
On purpose couched by Woman's wily Brain,  
That would by impious means her ends attain:  
Whose wicked Story, fully to display,  
Might spend more hours than do belong to day▪  
But since 'tis your Command, I'll briefly tell  
What, above Woman's Mischief, me befell:  
Which from this feigned Fidessa, by hard Fate,  
I suffered, as strange ways I passed of late:  
Where, her I met, or rather, she found me,  
As with her rid a Knight my Enemy:  
Whom I before her face in Battle killed,  
And wish that there her Blood I'd also spilled:  
When she with an illustrious seeming Grace,  
Derived her Lineage from Imperial Race:  
Vowing that she by force was thither brought  
By the slain Foe, who her Dishonour sought:  
And how obliged her Virtue was to me,  
By killing him her lustful Enemy.  
In Dress she richer was than Persian Queen,  
And fresh as Spring her outward Beauty seen:  
Her Speech was smother than best Courtier's Tongue,  
And sweeter was her Voice than Syren's Song.  
By these Attractions, and her wily Art,  
Too strong to be opposed by human Heart:  
She me distrustless won unto her Will,  
Whilst Foes she laid in wait my Blood to spill.  
Then stepped forth the famous lovely Maid,  
And kneeling to her Royal Father said,  
To me, alas! the Ills are known too well,  
Which from her wicked means my Knight befell.  
By Combats, Giants, grievous Wounds distressed,  
And Hardships by no words can be expressed.  
O false Fidessa, falser than the Sea,  
Or breath of Winds that there casts Ships away.  
To name thee Witch, Hag, Monster, were too small,  
Since thy Soul's guilt more ugly is than all.  
Next, Sir, this crafty Messenger behold,  
Nor doubt to prove him Archimago old:  
Who by his subtlest Diabolick Art,  
Strove to divide me from my Hero's Heart.  
That grievous deed all former Sorrows sums,  
And with Affright to my Remembrance comes.  
The King was greatly moved by what she said,  
And bids, on this false Man, that Chains be laid:  
Which being done, he like some Beast at stake,  
Attempts the Links that him constrained to break:  
Till they conveyed him to a Dungeon deep,  
And to secure him there strict watch did keep.  
Not any judging but his wicked end  
Would soon ensue, howe'er Hell stood his Friend.  
This just Affliction the King's Wrath appeased,  
And looking on the Lovers fully pleased:  
His Daughter to the Hero he unites,  
By vowed Contract, and public sacred Rites.  
When first his Royal Hand the Taper lays  
Unto the Pile, must burn for joy some days.  
And next does sprinkle on the flaming Wood  
The hallowed Water of the purest flood.  
Which done, the bushy Tead is blazing seen,  
To Hymen had of old devoted been.  
And here the sacred Lamp with care they light,  
In secret was to burn both day and night:  
The constant Emblem of the 'spoused Breast,  
Where Love's first kindled flame should ever rest.  
Then all the Posts with the most sparkling Wine  
They duly sprinkled, using words divine.  
And next held solemn Feasts within this Court,  
Perfumed with Odours of the choicest sort:  
Which filled each Room with such a fragrant smell,  
As showed the Sweets in this Clime did excel.  
Whilst Consorts here with their delicious Touch,  
In varied Tunes had pleased the Ears as much.  
And when the warbling Music ceased to play,  
The Songsters jolly Notes sung Cares away.  
And what their Admirations raised more high,  
Than Mortals e'er allowed to Harmony:  
Around them sounds more ravishing they hear,  
Than some have termed the Music of the Sphere.  
Nor more conceived from whence these Voices came,  
Than by what means the Sun expands his Flame.  
Howe'er their Souls transcendently were moved,  
As Heaven's peculiar Act their Joys approved.  
Throughout this Land exceeding Mirth was spread,  
Above what can by Verse be amplest read:  
Tho full employed by what the Muse imparts,  
Whose Song uniteth here such Lovers hearts.  
And now the Hero happily possessed  
Of her whom he adored and Heaven had blest:  
Like some triumphant Lover does appear,  
That had his Mistress won by glorious War.  
And as his pleasing Eye did her behold,  
By kindest Looks her inward Joy she told.  
Her cheerful Presence long he here enjoyed,  
Not envied, or with Jealousy annoyed.  
Yet neither wished content or happiest ease,  
Could this Knight's warlike Resolution cease,  
Which to the Fairy Queen by Vow he made,  
Ere he by Arms the Dragon did invade.  
And must, the Monster killed, to her remove,  
Tho deep Remorse he felt from dearest Love.  
To pity which let Verse some respite take,  
Or as the Pilate does his Voyage make  
From Port to Port, where Passengers he leaves,  
And others, with fresh Freights, aboard receives;  
So must our Muse her various Courses run;  
And may she finish well what's here begun.    
FINIS.