XLVI
Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree? Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire° High heaped up with huge iniquitie, Against the day of wrath, to burden thee? 410 Is not enough, that to this Ladie milde Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjurie, And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vilde, With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defilde?
XLVII
Is not he just, that all this doth behold 415 From highest heaven, and beares an equall eye? Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold, And guilty be of thine impietie? Is not his law, Let every sinner die: Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne, 420 Is it not better to doe willinglie, Then linger, till the glasse be all out ronne? Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.
XLVIII
The knight was much enmoved with his speach, That as a swords point through his hart did perse, 425 And in his conscience made a secret breach, Well knowing true all that he did reherse, And to his fresh remembraunce did reverse The ugly vew of his deformed crimes, That all his manly powres it did disperse, 430 As he were charmed° with inchaunted rimes, That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes.
XLIX
In which amazement, when the Miscreant Perceived him to waver weake and fraile, Whiles trembling horror did his conscience dant, 435 And hellish anguish did his soule assaile, To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile, He shew'd him painted in a table° plaine, The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile, And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine 440 With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall remaine.
L
The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid, That nought but death before his eyes he saw, And ever burning wrath before him laid, By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law. 445 Then gan the villein him to overcraw, And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, fire, And all that might him to perdition draw; And bad him choose, what death he would desire: For death was due to him, that had provokt Gods ire. 450
LI
But when as none of them he saw him take, He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene, And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake, And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene, And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene 455 To come, and goe with tidings from the heart, As it a running messenger had beene. At last resolv'd to worke his finall smart, He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start.
LII
Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine 460 The crudled cold ran to her well of life, As in a swowne: but soone reliv'd againe, Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife, And threw it to the ground, enraged rife, And to him said, Fie, fie, faint harted knight, 465 What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife? Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight With that fire-mouthed Dragon,° horrible and bright?
LIII
Come, come away, fraile, seely, fleshly wight, Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart, 470 Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright. In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part? Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?° Where justice growes, there grows eke greater grace, The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart, 475 And that accurst hand-writing° doth deface. Arise, Sir knight, arise, and leave this cursed place.
LIV
So up he rose, and thence amounted streight. Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest Would safe depart for all his subtill sleight, 480 He chose an halter from among the rest, And with it hung himselfe, unbid unblest. But death he could not worke himselfe thereby; For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,° Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die, 485 Till he should die his last, that is, eternally.
* * * * *
CANTO X
Her faithfull knight faire Una brings to house of Holinesse, Where he is taught repentance, and the way to heavenly blesse.
I
What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might And vaine assurance of mortality, Which all so soone as it doth come to fight Against spirituall foes, yeelds by and by, Or from the field most cowardly doth fly? 5 Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill, That thorough grace hath gained victory. If any strength we have, it is to ill, But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.
II
But that, which lately hapned, Una saw, 10 That this her knight was feeble, and too faint; And all his sinews woxen weake and raw, Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint, Which he endured in his late restraint, That yet he was unfit for bloudy fight: 15 Therefore to cherish him with diets daint, She cast to bring him, where he chearen might. Till he recovered had his late decayed plight.
III
There was an auntient house° not farre away, Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore, 20 And pure unspotted life: so well they say It governd was, and guided evermore, Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore: 25 All night she spent in bidding of her bedes, And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.
IV
Dame Coelia° men did her call, as thought From heaven to come, or thither to arise, The mother of three daughters, well upbrought 30 In goodly thewes, and godly exercise: The eldest two, most sober, chast, and wise, Fidelia° and Speranza virgins were, Though spousd, yet wanting wedlocks solemnize: But faire Charissa° to a lovely fere 35 Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere.
V
Arrived there, the dore they find fast lockt; For it was warely watched night and day, For feare of many foes: but when they knockt, The Porter opened unto them streight way: 40 He was an aged syre, all hory gray, With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow, Wont on a staffe his feeble steps to stay, Hight Humiltà.° They passe in stouping low; For streight and narrow was the way which he did show. 45
VI
Each goodly thing is hardest to begin, But entred in a spacious court they see, Both plaine, and pleasant to be walked in, Where them does meete a francklin faire and free, And entertaines with comely courteous glee, 50 His name was Zele, that him right well became, For in his speeches and behaviour hee Did labour lively to expresse the same, And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.
VII
There fairely them receives a gentle Squire, 55 Of milde demeanure, and rare courtesie, Right cleanly clad in comely sad attire; In word and deede that shew'd great modestie, And knew his good° to all of each degree, Hight Reverence. He them with speeches meet 60 Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie, But simple true, and eke unfained sweet, As might become a Squire so great persons to greet.
VIII
And afterwards them to his Dame he leades, That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place: 65 Who all this while was busy at her beades: Which doen, she up arose with seemely grace, And toward them full matronely did pace. Where when that fairest Una she beheld, Whom well she knew to spring from heavenly race, 70 Her hart with joy unwonted inly sweld, As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.
IX
And her embracing said, O happie earth, Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread, Most vertuous virgin borne of heavenly berth, 75 That, to redeeme thy woefull parents head, From tyrans rage, and ever dying dread,° Hast wandred through the world now long a day;° Yet ceasest not thy weary soles to lead,° What grace hath thee now hither brought this way? 80 Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting hither stray?
X
Strange thing it is an errant knight to see Here in this place, or any other wight, That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee That chose the narrow path, or seeke the right: 85 All keepe the broad high way, and take delight With many rather for to go astray, And be partakers of their evill plight, Then with a few to walke the rightest way; O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay? 90