XI
Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbes to rest, O matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came; And this good knight his way with me addrest, Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame, That up to heaven is blowne. The auncient Dame 95 Him goodly greeted in her modest guise, And entertaynd them both, as best became, With all the court'sies that she could devise, Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.
XII
Thus as they gan of sundry things devise, 100 Loe two most goodly virgins came in place, Ylinked arme in arme in lovely wise, With countenance demure, and modest grace, They numbred even steps and equall pace: Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hight, 105 Like sunny beames threw from her christall face, That could have dazd the rash beholders sight, And round about her head did shine like heavens light.
XIII
She was araied all in lilly white,° And in her right hand bore a cup of gold, 110 With wine and water fild up to the hight, In which a Serpent did himselfe enfold, That horrour made to all that did behold; But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood: And in her other hand she fast did hold 115 A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood: Wherin darke things were writ, hard to be understood.
XIV
Her younger sister, that Speranza hight, Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well; Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight, 120 As was her sister; whether dread did dwell, Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell: Upon her arme a silver anchor lay, Whereon she leaned ever, as befell: And ever up to heaven, as she did pray, 125 Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarved other way.
XV
They seeing Una, towards her gan wend, Who them encounters with like courtesie; Many kind speeches they betwene them spend, And greatly joy each other well to see: 130 Then to the knight with shamefast modestie They turne themselves, at Unaes meeke request, And him salute with well beseeming glee; Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best, And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest. 135
XVI
Then Una thus; But she your sister deare, The deare Charissa where is she become? Or wants she health, or busie is elsewhere? Ah no, said they, but forth she may not come: For she of late is lightned of her wombe, 140 And hath encreast the world with one sonne more, That her to see should be but troublesome. Indeed (quoth she) that should be trouble sore; But thankt be God, and her encrease° so evermore.
XVII
Then said the aged Coelia, Deare dame, 145 And you good Sir, I wote that of youre toyle, And labours long, through which ye hither came, Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle. Then called she a Groome, that forth him led 150 Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed; His name was meeke Obedience rightfully ared.
XVIII
Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, And bodies were refresht with due repast, 155 Faire Una gan Fidelia faire request, To have her knight into her schoolehouse plaste, That of her heavenly learning he might taste, And heare the wisedom of her words divine. She graunted, and that knight so much agraste, 160 That she him taught celestiall discipline, And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine.
XIX
And that her sacred Booke, with blood ywrit, That none could read, except she did them teach, She unto him disclosed every whit, 165 And heavenly documents thereout did preach, That weaker wit of man could never reach, Of God, of grace, of justice, of free will, That wonder was to heare her goodly speach: For she was able with her words to kill, 170 And raise againe to life the hart that she did thrill.
XX
And when she list° poure out her larger spright, She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay, Or backward turne his course from heavens hight; Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay; 175 [Dry-shod to passe she parts the flouds in tway;°] And eke huge mountaines from their native seat She would commaund, themselves to beare away, And throw in raging sea with roaring threat. Almightie God her gave such powre, and puissaunce great. 180
XXI
The faithfull knight now grew in litle space, By hearing her, and by her sisters lore, To such perfection of all heavenly grace, That wretched world he gan for to abhore, And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore, 185 Greevd with remembrance of his wicked wayes, And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore, That he desirde to end his wretched dayes: So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.
XXII
But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet, 190 And taught him how to take assured hold Upon her silver anchor, as was meet; Else had his sinnes so great and manifold Made him forget all that Fidelia told. In this distressed doubtfull agonie, 195 When him his dearest Una did behold, Disdeining life, desiring leave to die, She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.
XXIII
And came to Coelia to declare her smart, Who well acquainted with that commune plight, 200 Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart, Her wisely comforted all that she might, With goodly counsell and advisement right; And streightway sent with carefull diligence, To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight 205 In that disease of grieved conscience, And well could cure the same; his name was Patience.
XXIV
Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, Could hardly him intreat° to tell his griefe: Which knowne, and all that noyd his heavie spright 210 Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply relief Of salves and med'cines, which had passing priefe, And thereto added words of wondrous might;° By which to ease he him recured briefe, And much aswag'd the passion of his plight,° 215 That he his paine endur'd, as seeming now more light.
XXV
But yet the cause and root of all his ill, Inward corruption and infected sin, Not purg'd nor heald, behind remained still, And festring sore did rankle yet within, 220 Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin. Which to extirpe, he laid him privily Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in, Whereas he meant his corrosives to apply, And with streight diet tame his stubborne malady. 225
XXVI
In ashes and sackcloth he did array His daintie corse, proud humors to abate, And dieted with fasting every day, The swelling of his wounds to mitigate, And made him pray both earely and eke late: 230 And ever as superfluous flesh did rot Amendment readie still at hand did wayt, To pluck it out with pincers firie whot, That soone in him was left no one corrupted jot.
XXVII
And bitter Penance with an yron whip, 235 Was wont him once to disple every day: And sharpe Remorse his hart did pricke and nip, That drops of blood thence like a well did play: And sad Repentance used to embay His bodie in salt water smarting sore, 240 The filthy blots of sinne to wash away. So in short space they did to health restore The man that would not live, but earst lay at deathes dore.
XXVIII
In which his torment often was so great, That like a Lyon he would cry and rore, 245 And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat. His owne deare Una hearing evermore His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare, For pitty of his paine and anguish sore; 250 Yet all with patience wisely she did beare; For well she wist his crime could else be never cleare.
XXIX
Whom thus recover'd by wise Patience And trew Repentaunce they to Una brought: Who joyous of his cured conscience, 255 Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought To put away out of his carefull brest. By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought, Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest; 260 To her faire Una brought this unacquainted guest.