The Faerie Queene · Book V · Canto 5 11 (2/2)

Whom by his name saluting, thus he gan:

“Haile, good Sir Sergis, truest Knight alive,

Well tride in all thy Ladies troubles than

When her that Tyrant did of Crowne deprive;

What new occasion doth thee hither drive,

Whiles she alone is left, and thou here found?

Or is she thrall, or doth she not survive?”

To whom he thus: “She liveth sure and sound,

But by that Tyrant is in wretched thraldome bound:

“For she presuming on th’appointed tyde,

In which ye promist, as ye were a Knight,

To meete her at the salvage Hands syde,

And then and there for triall of her right

With her unrighteous enemy to fight,

Did thither come; where she, afrayd of nought,

By guilefull treason and by subtill slight

Surprized was, and to Grantorto brought,

Who her imprisond hath, and her life often sought.

“And now he hath to her prefixt a day,

By which if that no champion doe appeare,

Which will her cause in battailous array

Against him justifie, and prove her cleare

Of all those crimes that he gainst her doth reare,

She death shall sure aby.” Those tidings sad

Did much abash Sir Artegall to heare,

And grieved sore that through his fault she had

Fallen into that Tyrants hand and usage bad.

Then thus replide: “Now sure and by my life,

Too much am I to blame for that faire Maide,

That have her drawne to all this troublous strife,

Through promise to afford her timely aide,

Which by default I have not yet defraide:

But witnesse unto me, ye heavens! that know

How cleare I am from blame of this upbraide;

For ye into like thraldome me did throw,

And kept from complishing the faith which I did owe.

“But now aread, Sir Sergis, how long space

Hath he her lent a Champion to provide?”

“Ten daies,” (quoth he) “he graunted hath of grace,

For that he weeneth well before that tide

None can have tidings to assist her side:

For all the shores, which to the sea accoste,

He day and night doth ward both farre and wide,

That none can there arrive without an hoste:

So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste.”

“Now turne againe,” (Sir Artegall then sayd)

“For, if I live till those ten daies have end,

Assure your selfe, Sir Knight, she shall have ayd,

Though I this dearest life for her doe spend.”

So backeward he attone with him did wend:

Tho, as they rode together on their way,

A rout of people they before them kend,

Flocking together in confusde array;

As if that there were some tumultuous affray.

To which as they approcht the cause to know,

They saw a Knight in daungerous distresse

Of a rude rout him chasing to and fro,

That sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse,

And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse:

And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,

They spide a Lady left all succourlesse,

Crying, and holding up her wretched hands

To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage withstands.

Yet still he strives, ne any perill spares,

To reskue her from their rude violence;

And like a Lion wood amongst them fares,

Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large dispence,

Gainst which the pallid death findes no defence;

But all in vaine: their numbers are so great,

That naught may boot to banishe them from thence;

For soone as he their outrage backe doth beat,

They turne afresh, and oft renew their former threat.

And now they doe so sharpely him assay,

That they his shield in peeces battred have,

And forced him to throw it quite away,

Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to save;

Albe that it most safety to him gave,

And much did magnifie his noble name:

For, from the day that he thus did it leave,

Amongst all Knights he blotted was with blame,

And counted but a recreant Knight with endles shame.

Whom when they thus distressed did behold,

They drew unto his aide; but that rude rout

Them also gan assaile with outrage bold,

And forced them, how ever strong and stout

They were, as well approv’d in many a doubt,

Backe to recule; untill that yron man

With his huge flaile began to lay about;

From whose sterne presence they diffused ran,

Like scattred chaffe the which the wind away doth fan.

So when that Knight from perill cleare was freed,

He drawing neare began to greete them faire,

And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed,

In saving him from daungerous despaire

Of those which sought his life for to empaire:

Of whom Sir Artegall gan then enquire

The whole occasion of his late misfare,

And who he was, and what those villaines were,

The which with mortall malice him pursu’d so nere.

To whom he thus: “My name is Burbon hight,

Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,

Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light,

That all my former praise hath blemisht sore:

And that faire Lady, which in that uprore

Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis hight,

Is mine owne love, though me she have forlore,

Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might,

Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.

“But sure to me her faith she first did plight

To be my love, and take me for her Lord;

Till that a Tyrant, which Grandtorto hight,

With golden giftes and many a guilefull word

Entyced her to him for to accord.

O! who may not with gifts and words be tempted?

Sith which she hath me ever since abhord,

And to my foe hath guilefully consented:

Ay me, that ever guyle in wemen was invented!

“And now he hath this troupe of villains sent

By open force to fetch her quite away:

Gainst whom my selfe I long in vaine have bent

To rescue her, and daily meanes assay;

Yet rescue her thence by no meanes I may,

For they doe me with multitude oppresse,

And with unequall might doe overlay,

That oft I driven am to great distresse,

And forced to forgoe th’attempt remedilesse.”

“But why have ye” (said Artegall) “forborne

Your owne good shield in daungerous dismay?

That is the greatest shame and foulest scorne,

Which unto any knight behappen may,

To loose the badge that should his deedes display.”

To whom Sir Burbon, blushing halfe for shame:

“That shall I unto you” (quoth he) “bewray,

Least ye therefore mote happily me blame,

And deeme it doen of will, that through inforcement came.

“True is that I at first was dubbed knight

By a good knight, the knight of the Redcrosse;

Who, when he gave me armes in field to fight,

Gave me a shield, in which he did endosse

His deare Redeemers badge upon the bosse:

The same long while I bore, and therewithall

Fought many battels without wound or losse;

Therewith Grandtorto selfe I did appall,

And made him oftentimes in field before me fall.

“But for that many did that shield envie,

And cruell enemies increased more,

To stint all strife and troublous enmitie,

That bloudie scutchin, being battered sore,

I layd aside, and have of late forbore,

Hoping thereby to have my love obtayned;

Yet can I not my love have nathemore,

For she by force is still fro me detayned,

And with corruptfull brybes is to untruth mis-trayned.”

To whom thus Artegall: “Certes, Sir knight,

Hard is the case the which ye doe complaine?

Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light

That it to such a streight mote you constraine)

As to abandon that which doth containe

Your honours stile, that is, your warlike shield.

All perill ought be lesse, and lesse all paine

Then losse of fame in disaventrous field:

Dye, rather then doe ought that mote dishonour yield.

“Not so,” (quoth he) “for yet, when time doth serve,

My former shield I may resume againe:

To temporize is not from truth to swerve,

Ne for advantage terme to entertaine,

When as necessitie doth it constraine.”

“Fie on such forgerie!” (sayd Artegall)

“Under one hood to shadow faces twaine:

Knights ought be true, and truth is one in all:

Of all things, to dissemble, fouly may befall!”

“Yet let me you of courtesie request”

(Said Burbon) “to assist me now at need

Against these pesants which have me opprest,

And forced me to so infamous deed,

That yet my love may from their hands be freed.”

Sir Artegall, albe he earst did wyte

His wavering mind, yet to his aide agreed,

And, buckling him eftsoones unto the fight,

Did set upon those troupes with all his powre and might.

Who flocking round about them, as a swarme

Of flyes upon a birchen bough doth cluster,

Did them assault with terrible allarme;

And over all the fields themselves did muster,

With bils and glayves making a dreadfull luster,

That forst at first those knights backe to retyre:

As when the wrathfull Boreas doth bluster,

Nought may abide the tempest of his yre;

Both man and beast doe fly, and succour doe inquyre.

But, when as overblowen was that brunt,

Those knights began afresh them to assayle,

And all about the fields like Squirrels hunt;

But chiefly Talus with his yron flayle,

Gainst which no flight nor rescue mote avayle,

Made cruell havocke of the baser crew,

And chaced them both over hill and dale.

The raskall manie soone they overthrew;

But the two knights themselves their captains did subdew.

At last they came whereas that Ladie bode,

Whom now her keepers had forsaken quight

To save themselves, and scattered were abrode.

Her halfe dismayd they found in doubtfull plight,

As neither glad nor sorie for their sight;

Yet wondrous faire she was, and richly clad

In roiall robes, and many jewels dight;

But that those villens through their usage bad

Them fouly rent, and shamefully defaced had.

But Burbon, streight dismounting from his steed,

Unto her ran with greedie great desyre,

And catching her fast by her ragged weed

Would have embraced her with hart entyre;

But she backstarting with disdainefull yre

Bad him avaunt, ne would unto his lore

Allured be for prayer nor for meed:

Whom when those knights so froward and forlore

Beheld, they her rebuked and upbrayded sore.

Sayd Artegall: “What foule disgrace is this

To so faire Ladie, as ye seeme in sight,

To blot your beautie, that unblemisht is,

With so foule blame as breach of faith once plight,

Or change of love for any worlds delight!

Is ought on earth so pretious or deare

As prayse and honour? Or is ought so bright

And beautifull as glories beames appeare,

Whose goodly light then Phœbus lampe doth shine more cleare?

“Why then will ye, fond Dame, attempted bee

Unto a strangers love, so lightly placed,

For guiftes of gold or any worldly glee,

To leave the love that ye before embraced,

And let your fame with falshood be defaced?

Fie on the pelfe for which good name is sold,

And honour with indignitie debased!

Dearer is love then life, and fame then gold;

But dearer then them both your faith once plighted hold.”

Much was the Ladie in her gentle mind

Abasht at his rebuke, that bit her neare,

Ne ought to answere thereunto did find;

But, hanging down her head with heavie cheare,

Stood long amaz’d as she amated weare:

Which Burbon seeing her againe assayd;

And, clasping twixt his armes, her up did reare

Upon his steede, whiles she no whit gainesayd:

So bore her quite away, nor well nor ill apayd.

Nathlesse the yron man did still pursew

That raskall many with unpitied spoyle;

Ne ceassed not, till all their scattred crew

Into the sea he drove quite from that soyle,

The which they troubled had with great turmoyle.

But Artegall, seeing his cruell deed,

Commaunded him from slaughter to recoyle,

And to his voyage gan againe proceed;

For that the terme, approching fast, required speed.