XXIII

O lightsome day, the lampe of highest Jove,

First made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde,

When darkenesse he in deepest dongeon drove,

Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde,

And shut up heavens windowes shyning wyde:

For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed,

And late repentance, which shall long abyde.

Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed,

XXIV

Then downe againe she fell unto the ground;

But he her quickly reared up againe:

Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd

And thrise he her reviv'd with busie paine,

At last when life recover'd had the raine,

And over-wrestled his strong enemie,

With foltring tong, and trembling every vaine,

Tell on (quoth she) the wofull Tragedie,

The which these reliques sad present unto mine eie.

XXV

Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight,

And thrilling sorrow throwne his utmost dart;

Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heavy plight,

Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart:

Who hath endur'd the whole, can beare each part.

If death it be, it is not the first wound,

That launched hath my brest with bleeding smart.

XXVI

Then gan the Dwarfe the whole discourse declare,

The subtill traines of Archimago old;

The wanton loves of false Fidessa faire,

Bought with the blood of vanquisht Paynim bold;

The wretched payre transformed to treen mould;

The house of Pride, and perils round about;

The combat, which he with Sansjoy did hould;

The lucklesse conflict with the Gyant stout,

Wherein captiv'd, of life or death he stood in doubt.

XXVII

She heard with patience all unto the end,

Which greater grew, the more she did contend,

And almost rent her tender hart in tway;

And love fresh coles unto her fire did lay:

For greater love, the greater is the losse.

Then she did love the knight of the Redcrosse;

For whose deare sake so many troubles her did tosse.

XXVIII

At last when fervent sorrow slaked was,

She up arose, resolving him to find

Alive or dead: and forward forth doth pas,

All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd:

And evermore, in constant carefull mind,

She fed her wound with fresh renewed bale;

Long tost with stormes, and bet with bitter wind,

High over hills, and low adowne the dale,

She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale.

XXIX

At last she chaunced by good hap to meet

Together with his Squire, arrayed meet:

His glitterand armour shined farre away,

Like glauncing light of Phœbus brightest ray;

From top to toe no place appeared bare,

That deadly dint of steele endanger may:

Athwart his brest a bauldrick brave he ware,

That shynd, like twinkling stars, with stons most pretious rare.

XXX

And in the midst thereof one pretious stone

Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,

And strove for to amaze the weaker sights:

Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong

In yvory sheath, ycarv'd with curious slights;

Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong

Of mother pearle, and buckled with a golden tong.

XXXI

His haughtie helmet, horrid all with gold,

Both glorious brightnesse, and great terrour bred;

With greedie pawes, and over all did spred

His golden wings: his dreadfull hideous hed

Close couched on the bever, seem'd to throw

From flaming mouth bright sparkles fierie red,

That suddeine horror to faint harts did show,

And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his backe full low.

XXXII

Upon the top of all his loftie crest,

A bunch of haires discolourd diversly,

With sprincled pearle, and gold full richly drest,

Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollity,

Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye

With blossoms brave bedecked daintily;

Whose tender locks do tremble every one

At every little breath that under heaven is blowne.

XXXIII

Ne might of mortall eye be ever seene;

Not made of steele, nor of enduring bras,

Such earthly mettals soone consumed beene;

But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene

It framed was, one massie entire mould,

Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene,

That point of speare it never percen could,

Ne dint of direfull sword divide the substance would.

XXXIV

The same to wight he never wont disclose,

But when as monsters huge he would dismay,

Or daunt unequall armies of his foes,

Or when the flying heavens he would affray;

For so exceeding shone his glistring ray,

That Phœbus golden face it did attaint,

As when a cloud his beames doth over-lay;

As when her face is staynd with magicke arts constraint.

XXXV

No magicke arts hereof had any might,

Nor bloudie wordes of bold Enchaunters call;

Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall;

Men into stones therewith he could transmew,

And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;

And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,

He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.

XXXVI

Ne let it seeme, that credence this exceedes,

For he that made the same, was knowne right well

To have done much more admirable deedes.

All living wightes in might of magicke spell:

Both shield, and sword, and armour all he wrought

For this young Prince, when first to armes he fell;

But when he dyde, the Faerie Queene it brought

To Faerie lond, where yet it may be seene, if sought.

XXXVII

A gentle youth, his dearely loved Squire,

His speare of heben wood behind him bare,

Whose harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire,

Had riven many a brest with pikehead square:

A goodly person, and could menage faire

His stubborne steed with curbed canon bit,

And chauft, that any on his backe should sit;

The yron rowels into frothy fome he bit.

XXXVIII

When as this knight nigh to the Ladie drew,

With lovely court he gan her entertaine;

But when he heard her answeres loth, he knew

Some secret sorrow did her heart distraine:

Which to allay, and calme her storming paine,

Faire feeling words he wisely gan display,

To tempt the cause it selfe for to bewray;

Wherewith emmov'd, these bleeding words she gan to say.

XXXIX

What worlds delight, or joy of living speach

Can heart, so plung'd in sea of sorrowes deep,

And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach?

The carefull cold beginneth for to creepe,

And in my heart his yron arrow steepe,

Soone as I thinke upon my bitter bale:

Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keepe,

Then rip up griefe, where it may not availe,

My last left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.

XL

Ah Ladie deare, quoth then the gentle knight,

Well may I weene your griefe is wondrous great;

For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright,

Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat.

But wofull Ladie, let me you intrete

For to unfold the anguish of your hart:

Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete,

And counsell mittigates the greatest smart;

XLI

And can more easily be thought then said.

Right so (quoth he), but he that never would,

Could never: will to might gives greatest aid.

But griefe (quoth she) does greater grow displaid,

If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire.

Despaire breedes not (quoth he) where faith is staid.

Flesh may empaire (quoth he) but reason can repaire.

XLII

His goodly reason, and well guided speach,

So deepe did settle in her gracious thought,

That her perswaded to disclose the breach,

Which love and fortune in her heart had wrought,

And said; Faire Sir, I hope good hap hath brought

You to inquire the secrets of my griefe,

Or that your wisedome will direct my thought,

Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe:

Then heare the storie sad, which I shall tell you briefe.

XLIII

The forlorne Maiden, whom your eyes have seene

The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries,

Did runne about, and their felicities

The favourable heavens did not envy,

Did spread their rule through all the territories,

And Gehons golden waves doe wash continually.

XLIV

Till that their cruell cursed enemy,

An huge great Dragon horrible in sight,

With murdrous ravine, and devouring might

Their kingdome spoild, and countrey wasted quight:

Themselves, for feare into his jawes to fall,

He forst to castle strong to take their flight,

Where fast embard in mighty brasen wall,

XLV

Full many knights adventurous and stout

Have enterpriz'd that Monster to subdew;

Have thither come the noble Martiall crew,

That famous hard atchievements still pursew;

Yet never any could that girlond win,

But all still shronke, and still he greater grew:

All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin,

The pitteous pray of his fierce crueltie have bin.

XLVI

At last yledd with farre reported praise,

Which flying fame throughout the world had spred,

Of doughty knights, whom Faery land did raise,

Of Gloriane great Queene of glory bright,

There to obtaine some such redoubted knight,

The Parents deare from tyrants powre deliver might.

XLVII

It was my chance (my chance was faire and good)

There for to find a fresh unproved knight,

Whose manly hands imbrew'd in guiltie blood

Had never bene, ne ever by his might

Had throwne to ground the unregarded right:

Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made

(I witnesse am) in many a cruell fight;

The groning ghosts of many one dismaide

Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging blade.

XLVIII

And ye the forlorne reliques of his powre,

His byting sword, and his devouring speare,

Which have endured many a dreadfull stowre,

Can speake his prowesse, that did earst you beare,

And well could rule: now he hath left you heare

To be the record of his ruefull losse,

O heavie record of the good Redcrosse,

Where have you left your Lord, that could so well you tosse?

XLIX

Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had,

Till all unweeting, an Enchaunter bad

His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme

That rather death desire, then such despight.

Be judge ye heavens, that all things right esteeme,

How I him lov'd, and love with all my might,

So thought I eke of him, and thinke I thought aright.

L

Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke,

To wander, where wilde fortune would me lead,

And other bywaies he himselfe betooke,

Where never foot of living wight did tread,

In which him chaunced false Duessa meete,

Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread,

Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming sweete,

Inveigled him to follow her desires unmeete.

LI

At last by subtill sleights she him betraid

Unto his foe, a Gyant huge and tall,

Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,

Unwares surprised, and with mighty mall

The monster mercilesse him made to fall,

Whose fall did never foe before behold;

And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,

Remedilesse, for aie he doth him hold;

This is my cause of griefe, more great then may be told.

LII

Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint:

But he her comforted and faire bespake,

Certes, Madame, ye have great cause of plaint,

The stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake.

But be of cheare, and comfort to you take:

For till I have acquit your captive knight,

Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.

His chearefull wordes reviv'd her chearelesse spright,

So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding ever right.

I

AY me, how many perils doe enfold

The righteous man, to make him daily fall,

Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold,

And stedfast truth acquite him out of all.

Her love is firme, her care continuall,

So oft as he through his owne foolish pride,

Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall:

Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dydd

For whose deliverance she this Prince doth thither guide.

II

They sadly traveild thus, until they came

Nigh to a castle builded strong and hie:

Then cryde the Dwarfe, Lo yonder is the same,

In which my Lord my liege doth lucklesse lie,

Thrall to that Gyants hateful tyrannie:

Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.

The noble knight alighted by and by

From loftie steede, and bad the Ladie stay,

To see what end of fight should him befall that day.

III

So with the Squire, th' admirer of his might,

He marched forth towards that castle wall;

Whose gates he found fast shut, ne living wight

To ward the same, nor answere commers call.

Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold

And tassels gay. Wyde wonders over all

Of that same hornes great vertues weren told,

Which had approved bene in uses manifold.

IV

Was never wight that heard that shrilling sownd,

But trembling feare did feel in every vaine;

Three miles it might be easie heard around,

And Ecchoes three answerd it selfe againe:

No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine,

Might once abide the terror of that blast,

But presently was voide and wholly vaine:

No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast,

But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast.

V

The same before the Geants gate he blew,

That all the castle quaked from the ground,

And every dore of freewill open flew.

The Gyant selfe dismaied with that sownd,

Where he with his Duessa dalliance fownd,

In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,

With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,

And staggering steps, to weet, what suddein stowre,

Had wrought that horror strange, and dar'd his dreaded powre.

VI

And after him the proud Duessa came

High mounted on her many-headed beast;

And every head with fyrie tongue did flame,

And every head was crowned on his creast,

That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild

Upon his manly arme he soone addrest,

And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild,

And eger greedinesse through every member thrild.

VII

Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight,

Inflam'd with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,

And lifting up his dreadfull club on hight,

All arm'd with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,

Him thought at first encounter to have slaine.

But wise and wary was that noble Pere,

And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,

Did faire avoide the violence him nere;

It booted nought to thinke such thunderbolts to beare.

VIII

Ne shame he thought to shunne so hideous might:

The idle stroke, enforcing furious way,

Missing the marke of his misaymed sight

Did fall to ground, and with his heavie sway

So deepely dinted in the driven clay,

That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw:

The sad earth wounded with so sore assay,

Did grone full grievous underneath the blow,

And trembling with strange feare, did like an earthquake show.

IX

To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,

Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,

Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,

Through riven cloudes and molten firmament;

The fierce threeforked engin making way

Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,

And all that might his angry passage stay,

And shooting in the earth, casts up a mount of clay.

X

His boystrous club, so buried in the ground,

He could not rearen up againe so light,

But that the knight him at avantage found,

And whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight

Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright

He smote off his left arme, which like a blocke

Did fall to ground, depriv'd of native might;

Large streames of bloud out of the truncked stocke

Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riven rocke.

XI

Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound,

And eke impatient of unwonted paine,

He lowdly brayd with beastly yelling sound,

That all the fields rebellowed againe;

Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,

And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,

The neighbour woods around with hollow murmur ring.

XII

That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw

The evil stownd, that daungerd her estate,

Unto his aide she hastily did draw

Her dreadfull beast, who swolne with blood of late

Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous gate,

But him the Squire made quickly to retrate,

Encountring fierce with single sword in hand,

And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke stand.

XIII

The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull spight,

And fierce disdaine, to be affronted so,

Enforst her purple beast with all her might

That stop out of the way to overthroe,

Scorning the let of so unequall foe:

But nathemore would that courageous swayne

To her yeeld passage, gainst his Lord to goe,

But with outrageous strokes did him restraine,

And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.

XIV

Which still she bore, replete with magick artes;

Death and despeyre did many thereof sup,

And secret poyson through their inner parts,

Th' eternall bale of heavie wounded harts;

Which after charmes and some enchauntments said

She lightly sprinkled on his weaker parts;

Therewith his sturdie courage soone was quayd,

And all his senses were with suddeine dread dismayd.

XV

So downe he fell before the cruell beast,

Who on his neck his bloody clawes did seize,

That life nigh crusht out of his panting brest:

No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize.

That when the carefull knight gan well avise,

He lightly left the foe, with whom he fought,

And to the beast gan turne his enterprise;

For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought,

To see his loved Squire into such thraldome brought.

XVI

And high advauncing his blood-thirstie blade,

Stroke one of those deformed heads so sore,

That of his puissance proud ensample made;

His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore,

And that misformed shape mis-shaped more:

A sea of blood gusht from the gaping wound,

That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,

And overflowed all the field around;

That over shoes in bloud he waded on the ground.

XVII

Thereat he roared for exceeding paine,

That to have heard great horror would have bred,

And scourging th' emptie ayre with his long traine,

His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted

Would have cast downe, and trod in durtie myre,

Had not the Gyant soone her succoured;

Who all enrag'd with smart and franticke yre,

Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre.

XVIII

The force which wont in two to be disperst,

Which is through rage more strong than both were erst;

With which his hideous club aloft he dites,

And at his foe with furious rigour smites,

That strongest Oake might seeme to overthrow:

The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites,

That to the ground it doubleth him full low:

What mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous blow?

XIX

Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:

The light whereof, that heavens light did pas,

Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw,

That eye mote not the same endure to vew.

Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye,

He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew

His weapon huge, that heaved was on hye

For to have slaine the man, that on the ground did lye.

XX

And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd

At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,

Became starke blind, and all his sences daz'd,

That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,

And seem'd himselfe as conquered to yield.

Whom when his maistresse proud perceiv'd to fall,

Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,

Unto the Gyant loudly she gan call,

O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or else we perish all.

XXI

At her so pitteous cry was much amoov'd

Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,

Againe his wonted angry weapon proov'd:

But all in vaine: for he has read his end

In that bright shield, and all their forces spend

Themselves in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,

He had no powre to hurt, nor to defend;

As where th' Almighties lightning brond does light,

It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the senses quight.

XXII

Whom when the Prince, to battell new addrest,

And threatning high his dreadfull stroke did see,

His sparkling blade about his head he blest,

And smote off quite his right leg by the knee,

That downe he tombled; as an aged tree,

High growing on the top of rocky clift,

Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,

The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift

Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.

XXIII

Or as a Castle reared high and round,

By subtile engins and malitious slight

Is undermined from the lowest ground,

And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,

At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight

Her hastie ruine does more heavie make,

And yields it selfe unto the victours might;

Such was this Gyants fall, that seemd to shake

The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.