The Faerie Queene · Book II · Canto 2 1 (1/2)

That conning Architect of cancred guyle,

Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands,

For falsed letters, and suborned wyle,

Soone as the Redcrosse knight he understands

To beene departed out of Eden landes,

To serve againe his soveraine Elfin Queene,

His artes he moves, and out of caytives handes

Himselfe he frees by secret meanes unseene;

His shackles emptie lefte, himselfe escaped cleene.

And forth he fares, full of malicious mynd,

To worken mischiefe, and avenging woe,

Where ever he that godly knight may fynd,

His onely hart-sore, and his onely foe;

Sith Una now he algates must forgoe,

Whom his victorious handes did earst restore

To native crowne and kingdom late ygoe;

Where she enjoyes sure peace for evermore,

As wetherbeaten ship arryv’d on happie shore.

Him therefore now the object of his spight

And deadly food he makes: him to offend,

By forged treason or by open fight,

He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end:

Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,

His practick witt and his fayre fyled tonge,

With thousand other sleightes; for well he kend

His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong:

For hardly could bee hurt who was already stong.

Still as he went he craftie stales did lay,

With cunning traynes him to entrap unwares,

And privy spyals plast in all his way,

To weete what course he takes, and how he fares,

To ketch him at a vauntage in his snares.

But now so wise and wary was the knight

By tryall of his former harmes and cares,

That he descryde and shonned still his slight:

The fish that once was caught new bait wil hardly byte.

Nath’lesse th’Enchaunter would not spare his payne,

In hope to win occasion to his will;

Which when he long awaited had in vayne,

He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill;

For to all good he enimy was still.

Upon the way him fortuned to meete,

Fayre marching underneath a shady hill,

A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete,

That from his head no place appeared to his feete.

His carriage was full comely and upright;

His countenance demure and temperate;

But yett so sterne and terrible in sight,

That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate:

He was an Elfin borne of noble state

And mickle worship in his native land;

Well could he tourney, and in lists debate,

And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huons hand,

When with king Oberon he came to Faery land.

Him als accompanyd upon the way

A comely Palmer, clad in black attyre,

Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray,

That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,

Least his long way his aged limbes should tire:

And, if by lookes one may the mind aread,

He seemd to be a sage and sober syre;

And ever with slow pace the knight did lead,

Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.

Such whenas Archimago them did view,

He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle:

Eftsoones untwisting his deceiptfull clew,

He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle,

And, with faire countenance and flattring style

To them approching, thus the knight bespake;

“Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike spoyle,

And great atchiev’ments, great your selfe to make,

Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.”

He stayd his steed for humble misers sake,

And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt:

Who feigning then in every limb to quake

Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt,

With piteous mone his percing speach gan paynt:

“Deare Lady! how shall I declare thy cace,

Whom late I left in languorous constraynt?

Would God! thy selfe now present were in place

To tell this ruefull tale: thy sight could win thee grace.

“Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst,

That you, most noble Sir, had present beene

When that lewd rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst,

Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene,

To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene

As on the earth, great mother of us all,

With living eye more fayre was never seene

Of chastity and honour virginall:

Witnes, ye heavens, whom she in vaine to help did call.

“How may it be,” sayd then the knight halfe wroth,

“That knight should knighthood ever so have shent?”

“None but that saw,” (quoth he) “would weene for troth,

How shamefully that Mayd he did torment:

Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,

And drew her on the ground; and his sharpe sword

Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,

And threatned death with many a bloodie word

Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to see abhord.”

Therewith amoved from his sober mood,

“And lives he yet,” (said he) “that wrought this act?

And doen the heavens afford him vitall food?”

“He lives,” (quoth he) “and boasteth of the fact,

Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.”

“Where may that treachour then,” (sayd he) “be found,

Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?”

“That shall I shew,” (sayd he) “as sure as hound

The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.”

He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre

And zealous haste away is quickly gone

To seeke that knight, where him that crafty Squyre

Supposd to be. They do arrive anone

Where sate a gentle Lady all alone,

With garments rent, and heare discheveled,

Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone:

Her swollen eyes were much disfigured,

And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered.

The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said:

“Fayre Lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight,

Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd,

And marre the blossom of your beauty bright:

Forthy appease your griefe and heavy plight,

And tell the cause of your conceived payne;

For, if he live that hath you doen despight,

He shall you doe dew recompence agayne,

Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.”

Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise

She wilfully her sorrow did augment,

And offred hope of comfort did despise:

Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent,

And scratcht her face with ghastly dreriment;

Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,

But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,

Either for grievous shame, or for great teene,

As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene:

Till her that Squyre bespake: “Madame, my liefe,

For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent,

But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe,

The which good fortune doth to you present.

For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment

When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,

And the weake minde with double woe torment?”

When she her Squyre heard speake, she gan appease

Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.

Eftsoone she said; “Ah! gentle trustie Squyre,

What comfort can I, wofull wretch, conceave?

Or why should ever I henceforth desyre

To see faire heavens face, and life not leave,

Sith that false Traytour did my honour reave?”

“False traytour certes,” (saide the Faerie knight)

“I read the man, that ever would deceave

A gentle Lady, or her wrong through might:

Death were too litle paine for such a fowle despight.

“But now, fayre Lady, comfort to you make,

And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight,

That short revenge the man may overtake,

Whereso he be, and soone upon him light.”

“Certes,” (saide she) “I wote not how he hight,

But under him a gray steede he did wield,

Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;

Upright he rode, and in his silver shield

He bore a bloodie Crosse that quartred all the field.”

“Now by my head,” (saide Guyon) “much I muse,

How that same knight should doe so fowle amis,

Or ever gentle Damzell so abuse:

For, may I boldly say, he surely is

A right good knight, and trew of word ywis:

I present was, and can it witnesse well,

When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris

Th’adventure of the Errant damozell;

In which he hath great glory wonne, as I heare tell.

“Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde,

And fairely quit him of th’imputed blame;

Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde,

Or make you good amendment for the same:

All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame.

Now therefore, Lady, rise out of your paine,

And see the salving of your blotted name.”

Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine,

For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.

Her purpose was not such as she did faine,

Ne yet her person such as it was seene;

But under simple shew, and semblant plaine,

Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene,

As a chaste Virgin that had wronged beene:

So had false Archimago her disguysd,

To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;

And eke himselfe had craftily devisd

To be her Squire, and do her service well aguisd.

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found

Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,

Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground,

And with greene mosse cov’ring her nakednesse

To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse,

Sith her Prince Arthur of proud ornaments

And borrowd beauty spoyld. Her nathelesse

Th’enchaunter finding fit for his intents

Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments.

For all he did was to deceive good knights,

And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame

To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,

And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.

And now exceeding griefe him overcame,

To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye;

Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,

Against his praise to stirre up enmitye

Of such, as vertues like mote unto him allye.

So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way

Through woods and mountaines, till they came at last

Into a pleasant dale that lowly lay

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads overplast

The valley did with coole shade overcast:

Through midst thereof a little river rold,

By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste,

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,

After his travell long and labours manifold.

“Lo! yonder he,” cryde Archimage alowd,

“That wrought the shamefull fact which I did shew;

And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,

To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew:

But vaine; for ye shall dearely do him rew,

So God ye speed and send you good successe,

Which we far off will here abide to vew.”

So they him left inflam’d with wrathfulnesse,

That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse.

Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke,

His warlike armes about him gan embrace,

And in the rest his ready speare did sticke:

Tho, when as still he saw him towards pace,

He gan rencounter him in equall race.

They bene ymett, both ready to affrap,

When suddeinly that warriour gan abace

His threatned speare, as if some new mishap,

Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap;

And cryde, “Mercie, Sir knight! and mercie, Lord,

For mine offence and heedelesse hardiment,

That had almost committed crime abhord,

And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,

Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,

The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,

Which on your shield is set for ornament!”

But his fierce foe his steed could stay uneath,

Who, prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.

But, when he heard him speake, streight way he knew

His errour; and, himselfe inclyning, sayd:

“Ah! deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth you,

But me behoveth rather to upbrayd,

Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd,

That almost it did haynous violence

On that fayre ymage of that heavenly Mayd,

That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:

Your court’sie takes on you anothers dew offence.”

So beene they both at one, and doen upreare

Their bevers bright each other for to greet;

Goodly comportaunce each to other beare,

And entertaine themselves with court’sies meet.

Then said the Redcrosse knight; “Now mote I weet,

Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce,

And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet;

For sith I know your goodly governaunce,

Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some uncouth chaunce.”

“Certes,” (said he) “well mote I shame to tell

The fond encheason that me hither led.

A false infamous faitour late befell

Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,

And playnd of grievous outrage, which he red

A knight had wrought against a Ladie gent;

Which to avenge he to this place me led,

Where you he made the marke of his intent,

And now is fled: foule shame him follow wher he went!”

So can he turne his earnest unto game,

Through goodly handling and wise temperaunce.

By this his aged Guide in presence came;

Who, soone as on that knight his eye did glaunce,

Eftsoones of him had perfect cognizaunce,

Sith him in Faery court he late avizd;

And sayd; “Fayre sonne, God give you happy chaunce,

And that deare Crosse uppon your shield devizd,

Wherewith above all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd!

“Joy may you have, and everlasting fame,

Of late most hard atchiev’ment by you donne,

For which enrolled is your glorious name

In heavenly Regesters above the Sunne,

Where you a Saint with Saints your seat have wonne:

But wretched we, where ye have left your marke,

Must now anew begin like race to ronne.

God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,

And to the wished haven bring thy weary barke!”

“Palmer,” him answered the Redcrosse knight,

“His be the praise that this atchiev’ment wrought,

Who made my hand the organ of his might:

More then goodwill to me attribute nought;

For all I did, I did but as I ought.

But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensewes,

Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,

That home ye may report thrise happy newes;

For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle thewes.”

So courteous conge both did give and take,

With right hands plighted, pledges of good will.

Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make

With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still:

Still he him guided over dale and hill,

And with his steedy staffe did point his way;

His race with reason, and with words his will,

From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay,

And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps to stray.

In this faire wize they traveild long yfere,

Through many hard assayes which did betide;

Of which he honour still away did beare,

And spred his glory through all countryes wide.

At last, as chaunst them by a forest side

To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,

They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride

With percing shriekes and many a dolefull lay;

Which to attend awhile their forward steps they stay.

“But if that carelesse hevens,” (quoth she) “despise

The doome of just revenge, and take delight

To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries,

As bownd by them to live in lives despight;

Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.

Come, then; come soone; come sweetest death, to me,

And take away this long lent loathed light:

Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweete the medicines be,

That long captived soules from weary thraldome free.

“But thou, sweete Babe, whom frowning froward fate

Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall,

Sith heven thee deignes to hold in living state,

Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall

Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall.

Live thou; and to thy mother dead attest

That cleare she dide from blemish criminall:

Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest

Loe! I for pledges leave. So give me leave to rest.”