XXXVII
Through every rowme he sought, and every bowr, 325 But no where could he find that woful thrall: At last he came unto an yron doore, That fast was lockt, but key found not at all Emongst that bounch, to open it withall; But in the same a little grate was pight, 330 Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call With all his powre, to weet, if living wight Were housed there within, whom he enlargen might.
XXXVIII
Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce These pitteous plaints and dolours did resound; 335 O who is that, which brings me happy choyce Of death, that here lye dying every stound, Yet live perforce in balefull darkenesse bound? For now three Moones have changed thrice their hew, And have been thrice hid underneath the ground, 340 Since I the heavens chearfull face did vew, O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.
XXXIX
Which when that Champion heard, with percing point Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore, And trembling horrour ran through every joynt 345 For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore: Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore, With furious force, and indignation fell; Where entred in, his foot could find no flore, But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell, 350 That breathed ever forth a filthie banefull smell.
XL
But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands, Nor noyous smell his purpose could withhold, (Entire affection hateth nicer hands) But that with constant zeale, and courage bold, 355 After long paines and labours manifold, He found the meanes that Prisoner up to reare; Whose feeble thighes, unhable to uphold His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare. A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere. 360
XLI
His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits, Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to view; His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits, And empty sides deceived of their dew, Could make a stony hart his hap to rew; 365 His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs° Were wont to rive steele plates, and helmets hew, Were cleane consum'd, and all his vitall powres Decayd, and all his flesh shronk up like withered flowres.
XLII
Whom when his Lady saw, to him she ran 370 With hasty joy: to see him made her glad, And sad to view his visage pale and wan, Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad. Tho when her well of teares she wasted had, She said, Ah dearest Lord, what evill starre° 375 On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad, That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre, And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth marre?
XLIII
But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe, Whose presence I have lackt too long a day; 380 And fie on Fortune mine avowed foe,° Whose wrathful wreakes them selves doe now alay. And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay Of treble good: good growes of evils priefe.° The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay, 385 Had no delight to treaten of his griefe; His long endured famine needed more reliefe.
XLIV
Faire Lady, then said that victorious knight, The things, that grievous were to do, or beare, Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight; 390 Best musicke breeds delight° in loathing eare: But th' onely good, that growes of passed feare, Is to be wise, and ware of like agein. This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare Deepe written in my heart with yron pen, 395 That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.
XLV
Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength, And maister these mishaps with patient might; Loe where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous length, And loe that wicked woman in your sight, 400 The roote of all your care, and wretched plight, Now in your powre, to let her live, or dye. To do her dye (quoth Una) were despight, And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy; But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly. 405
XLVI
So as she bad, that witch they disaraid,° And robd of royall robes, and purple pall, And ornaments that richly were displaid; Ne spared they to strip her naked all. Then when they had despoiled her tire and call, 410 Such as she was, their eyes might her behold, That her misshaped parts did them appall, A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill favoured, old, Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.
* * * * *
XLIX
Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were, 415 And wondred at so fowle deformed wight. Such then (said Una) as she seemeth here, Such is the face of falshood, such the sight Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne. 420 Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight, And all her filthy feature open showne, They let her goe at will, and wander wayes unknowne.
L
She flying fast from heavens hated face, And from the world that her discovered wide, 425 Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace, From living eyes her open shame to hide, And lurkt in rocks and caves long unespide. But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire Did in that castle afterwards abide, 430 To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire, Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare.
* * * * *
CANTO IX
His loves and lignage Arthur tells: the Knights knit friendly hands: Sir Trevisan flies from Despayre, whom Redcrosse Knight withstands.
I
O goodly golden chaine,° wherewith yfere The vertues linked are in lovely wize: And noble mindes of yore allyed were, In brave poursuit of chevalrous emprize, That none did others safety despize, 5 Nor aid envy to him, in need that stands, But friendly each did others prayse devize, How to advaunce with favourable hands, As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands.
II
Who when their powres empaird through labour long, 10 With dew repast they had recured well, And that weake captive wight now wexed strong, Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell, But forward fare, as their adventures fell, But ere they parted, Una faire besought 15 That straunger knight his name and nation tell; Least so great good, as he for her had wrought, Should die unknown, and buried be in thanklesse° thought.
III
Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require A thing without the compas of my wit: 20 For both the lignage and the certain Sire, From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit. For all so soone as life did me admit Into this world, and shewed heavens light, From mothers pap I taken was unfit: 25 And streight deliver'd to a Faery knight,° To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.
IV
Unto old Timon he me brought bylive, Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene In warlike feates th'expertest man alive, 30 And is the wisest now on earth I weene; His dwelling is low in a valley greene, Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,° From whence the river Dee° as silver cleene, His tombling billowes roll with gentle rore: 35 There all my dayes he traind me up in vertuous lore.
V
Thither the great magicien Merlin came, As was his use, ofttimes to visit me: For he had charge my discipline to frame,° And Tutours nouriture to oversee. 40 Him oft and oft I askt in privitie, Of what loines and what lignage I did spring: Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee, That I was sonne and heire unto a king, As time in her just terme° the truth to light should bring. 45
VI
Well worthy impe, said then the Lady gent, And pupill fit for such a Tutours hand. But what adventure, or what high intent Hath brought you hither into Faery land, Aread Prince Arthur, crowne of Martiall band? 50 Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright The course of heavenly cause, or understand The secret meaning of th' eternall might, That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of living wight.
VII
For whether he through fatall deepe foresight 55 Me hither sent, for cause to me unghest, Or that fresh bleeding wound,° which day and night Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest, With forced fury° following his behest, Me hither brought by wayes yet never found; 60 You to have helpt I hold myself yet blest. Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound Could ever find,° to grieve the gentlest hart on ground?