The Faerie Queene · Book IV · Canto 4 5 (2/2)

Sir Scudamour there entring much admired

The manner of their worke and wearie paine;

And, having long beheld, at last enquired

The cause and end thereof, but all in vaine;

For they for nought would from their worke refraine,

Ne let his speeches come unto their eare.

And eke the breathfull bellowes blew amaine,

Like to the Northern winde, that none could heare:

Those Pensifenesse did move; and Sighes the bellows weare.

Which when that warriour saw, he said no more,

But in his armour layd him down to rest:

To rest he layd him downe upon the flore,

(Whylome for ventrous Knights the bedding best)

And thought his wearie limbs to have redrest.

And that old aged Dame, his faithfull Squire,

Her feeble joynts layd eke adowne to rest;

That needed much her weake age to desire,

After so long a travell which them both did tire.

There lay Sir Scudamour long while expecting

When gentle sleepe his heavie eyes would close;

Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place electing,

Where better seem’d he mote himselfe repose;

And oft in wrath he thence againe uprose,

And oft in wrath he layd him downe againe.

But wheresoever he did himselfe dispose,

He by no meanes could wished ease obtaine:

So every place seem’d painefull, and ech changing vaine.

And evermore, when he to sleepe did thinke,

The hammers sound his senses did molest,

And evermore, when he began to winke,

The bellowes noyse disturb’d his quiet rest,

Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest:

And all the night the dogs did barke and howle

About the house, at sent of stranger guest:

And now the crowing Cocke, and now the Owle

Lowde shriking, him afflicted to the very sowle.

And, if by fortuneany litle nap

Upon his heavie eyelids chaunst to fall,

Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap

Upon his headpeece with his yron mall;

That he was soone awaked therewithall,

And lightly started up as one affrayd,

Or as if one him suddenly did call:

So oftentimes he out of sleepe abrayd,

And then lay musing long on that him ill apayd.

So long he muzed, and so long he lay,

That at the last his wearie sprite, opprest

With fleshly weaknesse, which no creature may

Long time resist, gave place to kindly rest,

That all his senses did full soone arrest:

Yet in his soundest sleepe his dayly feare

His ydle braine gan busily molest,

And made him dreame those two disloyall were:

The things, that day most minds, at night doe most appeare.

With that the wicked carle, the maister Smith,

A paire of red-whot yron tongs did take

Out of the burning cinders, and therewith

Under his side him nipt; that, forst to wake,

He felt his hart for very paine to quake,

And started up avenged for to be

On him the which his quiet slomber brake:

Yet, looking round about him, none could see;

Yet did the smart remaine, though he himselfe did flee.

In such disquiet and hart-fretting payne

He all that night, that too long night, did passe.

And now the day out of the Ocean mayne

Began to peepe above this earthly masse,

With pearly dew sprinkling the morning grasse:

Then up he rose, like heavie lumpe of lead,

That in his face, as in a looking glasse,

The signes of anguish one mote plainely read,

And ghesse the man to be dismayd with gealous dread.

Unto his lofty steede he clombe anone,

And forth upon his former voiage fared,

And with him eke that aged Squire attone;

Who, whatsoever perill was prepared,

Both equall paines and equall perill shared;

The end whereof and daungerous event

Shall for another canticle be spared:

But here my wearie teeme, nigh over spent,

Shall breath it selfe awhile after so long a went.