XXIII
So long in secret cabin there he held * * * * * Then home he suffred her for to retyre, For ransome leaving him the late borne childe; Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire, 200 He noursled up in life and manners wilde, Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.
XXIV
For all he taught the tender ymp, was but° To banish cowardize and bastard feare; His trembling hand he would him force to put 205 Upon the Lyon and the rugged Beare; And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare; And eke wyld roaring Buls he would him make To tame, and ryde their backes not made to beare; And the Robuckes in flight to overtake, 210 That every beast for feare of him did fly and quake.
XXV
Thereby so fearlesse, and so fell he grew, That his owne sire and maister of his guise° Did often tremble at his horrid vew,° And oft for dread of hurt would him advise, 215 The angry beasts not rashly to despise, Nor too much to provoke; for he would learne The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise, (A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did earne. 220
XXVI
And for to make his powre approved more, Wyld beasts in yron yokes he would compell; The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore, The Pardale swift, and the tigre cruell, The Antelope, and Wolfe both fierce and fell; 225 And them constraine in equall teme to draw. Such joy he had, their stubborne harts to quell, And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw, That his beheast they feared, as a tyrans law.
XXVII
His loving mother came upon a day 230 Unto the woods, to see her little sonne; And chaunst unwares to meet him in the way, After his sportes, and cruell pastime donne; When after him a Lyonesse did runne, That roaring all with rage, did lowd requere 235 Her children deare, whom he away had wonne: The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare, And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.
XXVIII
The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight, And turning backe, gan fast to fly away, 240 Untill with love revokt from vaine affright, She hardly yet perswaded was to stay, And then to him these womanish words gan say; Ah Satyrane, my dearling, and my joy, For love of me leave off this dreadfull play; 245 To dally thus with death is no fit toy, Go find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.
XXIX
In these and like delights of bloudy game He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught; And there abode, whilst any beast of name 250 Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught To feare his force: and then his courage haught Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne, And far abroad for straunge adventures sought; In which his might was never overthrowne; 255 But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.°
XXX
Yet evermore it was his manner faire, After long labours and adventures spent, Unto those native woods for to repaire, To see his sire and offspring auncient. 260 And now he thither came for like intent; Where he unwares the fairest Una found, Straunge Lady, in so straunge habiliment, Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around, Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound. 265
XXXI
He wondred at her wisedome heavenly rare, Whose like in womens wit he never knew; And when her curteous deeds he did compare, Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew, Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw, 270 And joyd to make proofe of her crueltie, On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew: Thenceforth he kept her goodly company, And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.
XXXII
But she all vowd unto the Redcrosse knight, 275 His wandring perill closely did lament, Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight, But her deare heart with anguish did torment, And all her wit in secret counsels spent, How to escape. At last in privie wise 280 To Satyrane she shewed her intent; Who glad to gain such favour, gan devise How with that pensive Maid he best might thence arise.
XXXIII
So on a day when Satyres all were gone To do their service to Sylvanus old, 285 The gentle virgin left behind alone He led away with courage stout and bold. Too late it was, to Satyres to be told, Or ever hope recover her againe: In vaine he seekes that having cannot hold. 290 So fast he carried her with carefull paine, That they the woods are past, and come now to the plaine.
XXXIV
The better part now of the lingring day, They traveild had, whenas they farre espide A weary wight forwandring by the way, 295 And towards him they gan in haste to ride, To weete of newes, that did abroad betide, Or tydings of her knight of the Redcrosse. But he them spying, gan to turne aside, For feare as seemd, or for some feigned losse; 300 More greedy they of newes, fast towards him do crosse.
XXXV
A silly man, in simple weedes forworne, And soild with dust of the long dried way; His sandales were with toilsome travell torne, And face all tand with scorching sunny ray, 305 As he had traveild many a sommers day, Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde; And in his hand a Jacobs staffe,° to stay His wearie limbes upon: and eke behind, His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind. 310
XXXVI
The knight approaching nigh, of him inquerd Tidings of warre, and of adventures new; But warres, nor new adventures none he herd. Then Una gan to aske, if ought he knew, Or heard abroad of that her champion trew, 315 That in his armour bare a croslet red. Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew To tell the sad sight which mine eies have red. These eies did see that knight both living and eke ded.
XXXVII
That cruell word her tender hart so thrild, 320 That suddein cold did runne through every vaine, And stony horrour all her sences fild With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine. The knight her lightly reared up againe, And comforted with curteous kind reliefe: 325 Then, wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine The further processe of her hidden griefe: The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur'd the chiefe.
XXXVIII
Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day, This fatall day, that shall I ever rew, 330 To see two knights in travell on my way (A sory sight) arraung'd in battell new, Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew: My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife, To see their blades so greedily imbrew, 335 That drunke with bloud, yet thristed after life: What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim knife.
XXXIX
Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee, And he the stoughtest knight, that ever wonne? Ah dearest dame (quoth he) how might I see 340 The thing, that might not be, and yet was donne? Where is (said Satyrane) that Paynims sonne, That him of life, and us of joy hath reft? Not far away (quoth he) he hence doth wonne Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left 345 Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were cleft.
XL
Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast, Whiles Una with huge heavinesse opprest, Could not for sorrow follow him so fast; And soone he came, as he the place had ghest, 350 Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest, In secret shadow by a fountaine side: Even he it was, that earst would have supprest Faire Una: whom when Satyrane espide, With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide. 355
XLI
And said, Arise thou cursed Miscreaunt, That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain: Arise, and with like treason now maintain 360 Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield. The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain, And catching up in hast his three-square shield, And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.