The Faerie Queene · Book III · Canto 3 8 (2/2)

Dayly he tempted her with this or that,

And never suffred her to be at rest;

But evermore she him refused flat,

And all his fained kindnes did detest,

So firmely she had sealed up her brest.

Sometimes he boasted that a God he hight,

But she a mortall creature loved best:

Then he would make him selfe a mortall wight;

But then she said she lov’d none, but a Faery knight.

Then like a Faerie knight him selfe he drest,

For every shape on him he could endew;

Then like a king he was to her exprest,

And offred kingdoms unto her in vew,

To be his Leman and his Lady trew:

But when all this he nothing saw prevaile,

With harder meanes he cast her to subdew,

And with sharpe threates her often did assayle;

So thinking for to make her stubborne corage quayle.

To dreadfull shapes he did him selfe transforme;

Now like a Gyaunt; now like to a feend;

Then like a Centaure; then like to a storme

Raging within the waves: thereby he weend

Her will to win unto his wished eend;

But when with feare, nor favour, nor with all

He els could doe, he saw him selfe esteemd,

Downe in a Dongeon deepe he let her fall,

And threatned there to make her his eternall thrall.

Eternall thraldome was to her more liefe

Then losse of chastitie, or chaunge of love:

Dye had she rather in tormenting griefe

Then any should of falsenesse her reprove,

Or loosenes, that she lightly did remove.

Most vertuous virgin! glory be thy meed,

And crowne of heavenly prayse with Saintes above,

Where most sweet hymmes of this thy famous deed

Are still emongst them song, that far my rymes exceed.

Fit song of Angels caroled to bee!

But yet whatso my feeble Muse can frame

Shal be t’advance thy goodly chastitee

And to enroll thy memorable name

In th’heart of every honourable Dame,

That they thy vertuous deedes may imitate,

And be partakers of thy endlesse fame.

Yt yrkes me leave thee in this wofull state,

To tell of Satyrane where I him left of late.

Who having ended with that Squyre of Dames

A long discourse of his adventures vayne,

The which himselfe then Ladies more defames,

And finding not th’Hyena to be slayne,

With that same Squyre retourned back againe

To his first way. And, as they forward went,

They spyde a knight fay re pricking on the playne,

As if he were on some adventure bent,

And in his port appeared manly hardiment.

Sir Satyrane him towardes did addresse,

To weet what wight he was, and what his quest;

And, comming nigh, eftsoones he gan to gesse,

Both by the burning hart which on his brest

He bare, and by the colours in his crest,

That Paridell it was. Tho to him yode,

And him saluting as beseemed best,

Gan first inquire of tydinges farre abrode,

And afterwardes on what adventure now he rode.

Who thereto answering said: “The tydinges bad,

Which now in Faery court all men doe tell,

Which turned hath great mirth to mourning sad,

Is the late ruine of proud Marinell,

And suddein parture of faire Florimell

To find him forth: and after her are gone

All the brave knightes that doen in armes excell

To savegard her ywandred all alone:

Emongst the rest my lott (unworthy’) is to be one.”

“Ah! gentle knight,” (said then Sir Satyrane)

“Thy labour all is lost, I greatly dread,

That hast a thanklesse service on thee ta’ne,

And offrest sacrifice unto the dead:

For dead, I surely doubt, thou maist aread

Henceforth for ever Florimell to bee;

That all the noble knights of Maydenhead,

Which her ador’d, may sore repent with mee,

And all faire Ladies may for ever sory bee.”

Which wordes when Paridell had heard, his hew

Gan greatly chaunge and seemd dismaid to bee;

Then said: “Fayre Sir, how may I weene it trew,

That ye doe tell in such uncerteintee?

Or speake ye of report, or did ye see

Just cause of dread, that makes ye doubt so sore?

For, perdie, elles how mote it ever bee,

That ever hand should dare for to engore

Her noble blood? The hevens such crueltie abhore.”

“These eyes did see that they will ever rew

T’have seene,” (quoth he) “when as a monstrous beast

The Palfrey whereon she did travell slew,

And of his bowels made his bloody feast:

Which speaking token sheweth at the least

Her certeine losse, if not her sure decay:

Besides, that more suspicion encreast,

I found her golden girdle cast astray,

Distaynd with durt and blood, as relique of the pray.”

“Ay me!” (said Paridell) “the signes be sadd;

And, but God turne the same to good sooth-say,

That Ladies safetie is sore to be dradd:

Yet will I not forsake my forward way,

Till triall doe more certeine truth bewray.”

“Faire Sir,” (quoth he) “well may it you succeed!

Ne long shall Satyrane behind you stay,

But to the rest, which in this Quest proceed,

My labour adde, and be partaker of their speed.”

“Ye noble knights,” (said then the Squyre of Dames)

“Well may yee speede in so praiseworthy payne!

But sith the Sunne now ginnes to slake his beames

In deawy vapours of the westerne mayne,

And lose the teme out of his weary wayne,

Mote not mislike you also to abate

Your zealous hast, till morrow next againe

Both light of heven and strength of men relate:

Which if ye please, to yonder castle turne your gate.”

That counsell pleased well: so all yfere

Forth marched to a Castle them before;

Where soone arryving they restrained were

Of ready entraunce, which ought evermore

To errant knights be commune: wondrous sore

Thereat displeasd they were, till that young Squyre

Gan them informe the cause, why that same dore

Was shut to all which lodging did desyre:

The which to let you weet will further time requyre.