The Faerie Queene · Book II · Canto 2 11 (2/2)

Ne drop of blood appeared shed to bee,

All were the wownd so wide and wonderous

That through his carcas one might playnly see.

Halfe in amaze with horror hideous,

And halfe in rage to be deluded thus,

Again through both the sides he strooke him quight,

That made his spright to grone full piteous;

Yet nathemore forth fled his groning spright,

But freshly, as at first, prepard himselfe to fight.

Thereat he smitten was with great affright,

And trembling terror did his hart apall;

Ne wist he what to thinke of that same sight,

Ne what to say, ne what to doe at all:

He doubted least it were some magicall

Illusion that did beguile his sense,

Or wandring ghost that wanted funerall,

Or aery spirite under false pretence,

Or hellish feend raysd up through divelish science.

His wonder far exceeded reasons reach,

That he began to doubt his dazeled sight,

And oft of error did himselfe appeach:

Flesh without blood, a person without spright,

Wounds without hurt, a body without might,

That could doe harme, yet could not harmed bee,

That could not die, yet seemd a mortall wight,

That was most strong in most infirmitee;

Like did he never heare, like did he never see.

Awhile he stood in this astonishment,

Yet would he not for all his great dismay

Give over to effect his first intent,

And th’utmost meanes of victory assay,

Or th’utmost yssew of his owne decay.

His owne good sword Mordure, that never fayld

At need till now, he lightly threw away,

And his bright shield that nought him now avayld;

And with his naked hands him forcibly assayld.

Twixt his two mighty armes him up he snatcht,

And crusht his carcas so against his brest,

That the disdainfull sowle he thence dispatcht,

And th’ydle breath all utterly exprest.

Tho, when he felt him dead, adowne he kest

The lumpish corse unto the sencelesse grownd;

Adowne he kest it with so puissant wrest,

That backe againe it did alofte rebownd,

And gave against his mother earth a gronefull sownd.

As when Joves harnesse-bearing Bird from hye

Stoupes at a flying heron with proud disdayne,

The stone-dead quarrey falls so forciblye,

That yt rebownds against the lowly playne,

A second fall redoubling backe agayne.

Then thought the Prince all peril sure was past,

And that he victor onely did remayne;

No sooner thought, then that the Carle as fast

Gan heap huge strokes on him, as ere he down was cast.

Nigh his wits end then woxe th’amazed knight,

And thought his labor lost, and travell vayne,

Against this lifelesse shadow so to fight:

Yet life he saw, and felt his mighty mayne,

That, whiles he marveild still, did still him payne;

Forthy he gan some other wayes advize,

How to take life from that dead-living swayne,

Whom still he marked freshly to arize

From th’earth, and from her womb new spirits to reprize.

He then remembred well, that had bene sayd,

How th’Earth his mother was, and first him bore;

She eke, so often as his life decayd,

Did life with usury to him restore,

And reysd him up much stronger then before,

So soone as he unto her wombe did fall:

Therefore to grownd he would him cast no more,

Ne him committ to grave terrestriall,

But beare him farre from hope of succour usuall.

Tho up he caught him twixt his puissant hands,

And having scruzd out of his carrion corse

The lothfull life, now loosd from sinfull bands,

Upon his shoulders carried him perforse

Above three furlongs, taking his full course

Until he came unto a standing lake;

Him thereinto he threw without remorse,

Ne stird, till hope of life did him forsake:

So end of that Carles dayes and his owne paynes did make.

Which when those wicked Hags from far did spye,

Like two mad dogs they ran about the lands,

And th’one of them with dreadfull yelling crye,

Throwing away her broken chaines and bands,

And having quencht her burning fier-brands,

Hedlong her selfe did cast into that lake;

But Impotence with her owne wilfull hands

One of Malegers cursed darts did take,

So ryv’d her trembling hart, and wicked end did make.

Thus now alone he conquerour remaines:

Tho, cumming to his Squyre that kept his steed,

Thought to have mounted; but his feeble vaines

Him faild thereto, and served not his need,

Through losse of blood which from his wounds did bleed,

That he began to faint, and life decay:

But his good Squyre, him helping up with speed,

With stedfast hand upon his horse did stay,

And led him to the Castle by the beaten way.

Where many Groomes and Squyres ready were

To take him from his steed full tenderly;

And eke the fayrest Alma mett him there

With balme, and wine, and costly spicery,

To comfort him in his infirmity.

Eftesoones shee causd him up to be convayd,

And of his armes despoyled easily

In sumptuous bed shee made him to be layd;

And al the while his wounds were dressing by him stayd.