XIX
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet, Yet of those fearfull women none durst rize, The Lyon frayed them, him in to let: 165 He would no longer stay him to advize,° But open breakes the dore in furious wize, And entring is; when that disdainfull beast Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize, And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest, 170 Under his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.
XX
Him booteth not resist,° nor succour call, His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand, Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small, And quite dismembred hath: the thirsty land 175 Drunke up his life; his corse left on the strand. His fearefull friends weare out the wofull night, Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to understand The heavie hap, which on them is alight, Affraid, least to themselves the like mishappen might. 180
XXI
Now when broad day the world discovered has, Up Una rose, up rose the Lyon eke, And on their former journey forward pas, In wayes unknowne, her wandring knight to seeke, With paines farre passing that long wandring Greeke,° 185 That for his love refused deitie; Such were the labours of his Lady meeke, Still seeking him, that from her still did flie; Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.
XXII
Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull twaine, 190 That blind old woman and her daughter deare,° Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slaine, For anguish great they gan to rend their heare, And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare. And when they both had wept and wayld their fill, 195 Then forth they ran like two amazed deare, Halfe mad through malice, and revenging will, To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.
XXIII
Whom overtaking, they gan loudly bray, With hollow howling, and lamenting cry, 200 Shamefully at her rayling all the way, And her accusing of dishonesty, That was the flowre of faith and chastity; And still amidst her rayling, she did pray, That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery 205 Might fall on her, and follow all the way, And that in endlesse error she might ever stray.
XXIV
But when she saw her prayers nought prevaile, She backe returned with some labour lost; And in the way as shee did weepe and waile, 210 A knight her met in mighty armes embost, Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost, But subtill Archimag, that Una sought By traynes into new troubles to have tost: Of that old woman tidings he besought, 215 If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought.
XXV
Therewith she gan her passion to renew, And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare, Saying, that harlot she too lately knew, That caused her shed so many a bitter teare, 220 And so forth told the story of her feare: Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce, And after for that Ladie did inquere; Which being taught, he forward gan advaunce His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce. 225
XXVI
Ere long he came where Una traveild slow, And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde: Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde Unto an hill; from whence when she him spyde, 230 By his like seeming shield, her knight by name She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde: Approaching nigh, she wist it was the same, And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came:
XXVII
And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord, 235 Where have ye bene thus long out of my sight? Much feared I to have bene quite abhord, Or ought have done,° that ye displeasen might, That should as death° unto my deare heart light: For since mine eye your joyous sight did mis, 240 My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night, And eke my night of death the shadow is; But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.
XXVIII
He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame, Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will, 245 To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame, As you to leave, that have me loved still, And chose in Faery court° of meere goodwill, Where noblest knights were to be found on earth: The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skill,° 250 To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth, Then I leave you, my liefe, yborne of heavenly berth.
XXIX
And sooth to say, why I left you so long, Was for to seeke adventure in strange place, Where Archimago said a felon strong 255 To many knights did daily worke disgrace; But knight he now shall never more deface: Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please Well to accept, and evermore embrace My faithfull service, that by land and seas 260 Have vowd you to defend: now then your plaint appease.
XXX
His lovely words her seemd due recompence Of all her passed paines: one loving howre For many yeares of sorrow can dispence: A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre: 265 She has forgot, how many a woful stowre For him she late endurd; she speakes no more Of past: true is, that true love hath no powre To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before. Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore. 270
XXXI
Much like, as when the beaten marinere, That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide, Oft soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare, And long time having tand his tawney hide With blustring breath of heaven, that none can bide, 275 And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound,° Soone as the port from farre he has espide, His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound, And Nereus crownes with cups°; his mates him pledg around.
XXXII
Such joy made Una, when her knight she found; 280 And eke th' enchaunter joyous seemd no lesse, Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground° His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse, He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse: So forth they past, and all the way they spent 285 Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse, In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment: Who told her all that fell in journey as she went.
XXXIII
They had not ridden farre, when they might see One pricking towards them with hastie heat, 290 Full strongly armd, and on a courser free, That through his fiercenesse fomed all with sweat, And the sharpe yron did for anger eat, When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side; His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat 295 Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde, And on his shield _Sans loy_° in bloudie lines was dyde.
XXXIV
When nigh he drew unto this gentle payre And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare, He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones prepare 300 Himselfe to battell with his couched speare. Loth was that other, and did faint through feare, To taste th' untryed dint of deadly steele; But yet his Lady did so well him cheare, That hope of new goodhap he gan to feele; 305 So bent his speare, and spurd his horse with yron heele.
XXXV
But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce, And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare, Through vainly crossed shield° he quite did pierce, And had his staggering steede not shrunke for feare, 310 Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare: Yet so great was the puissance of his push, That from his saddle quite he did him beare: He tombling rudely downe to ground did rush, And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush. 315
XXXVI
Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed, He to him lept, in mind to reave his life, And proudly said, Lo there the worthie meed Of him that slew Sansfoy with bloudie knife; Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife, 320 In peace may passen over Lethe lake,° When mourning altars purgd with enemies life, The blacke infernall Furies° doen aslake: Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take.
XXXVII
Therewith in haste his helmet gan unlace,° 325 Till Una cried, O hold that heavie hand, Deare Sir, what ever that thou be in place: Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand: For he is one the truest knight alive, 330 Though conquered now he lie on lowly land, And whilest him fortune favourd, faire did thrive In bloudie field: therefore of life him not deprive.