XXXVIII
The same advauncing high above his head, With sharpe intended sting° so rude him smot, 335 That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead, Ne living wight would have him life behot: The mortall sting his angry needle shot Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd, Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got: 340 The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd, Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.
XXXIX
But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, Then of the grievous smart, which him did wring, From loathed soile he can him lightly reare, 345 And strove to loose the far infixed sting: Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling, Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he heft, And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string Of his huge taile he quite a sunder cleft, 350 Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.
XL
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes, With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire, The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skyes, That all was covered with darkenesse dire: 355 Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire, He cast at once him to avenge for all, And gathering up himselfe out of the mire, With his uneven wings did fiercely fall, Upon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall. 360
XLI
Much was the man encombred with his hold, In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, Ne wist yet, how his talaunts to unfold; For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw 365 To reave by strength the griped gage° away: Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw, And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay, It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.
XLII
Tho when he saw no power might prevaile, 370 His trustie sword he cald to his last aid, Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile, And double blowes about him stoutly laid, That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid; As sparckles from the Andvile use to fly, 375 When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid; Therewith at last he forst him to unty One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.
XLIII
The other foot, fast fixed on his shield, Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine 380 To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield, He smot thereat with all his might and maine, That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine; Upon the joint the lucky steele did light, And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; 385 The paw yett missed not his minisht might,° But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.
XLIV
For griefe thereof and divelish despight,° From his infernall fournace forth he threw Huge flames, that dimmed all the heavens light, 390 Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew: As burning Aetna from his boyling stew Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke, And ragged ribs of mountains molten new, Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke, 395 That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke.
XLV
The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire A little backward for his best defence, To save his body from the scorching fire, 400 Which he from hellish entrailes did expire. It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide,) As he recoiled backward, in the mire His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide, And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. 405
XLVI
There grew a goodly tree° him faire beside, Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red, As they in pure vermilion had beene dide, Whereof great vertues over all were red°: For happy life to all which thereon fed, 410 And life eke everlasting did befall: Great God it planted in that blessed sted With his Almighty hand, and did it call The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall.°
XLVII
In all the world like was not to be found, 415 Save in that soile, where all good things did grow, And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground, As incorrupted Nature did them sow, Till that dread Dragon all did overthrow. Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, 420 Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did know Both good and ill: O mornefull memory: That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy.
XLVIII
From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, A trickling streame of Balme, most soveraine 425 And dainty deare, which on the ground, still fell, And overflowed all the fertile plaine, As it had deawed bene with timely raine: Life and long health that gratious ointment gave, And deadly wounds could heale and reare againe 430 The senselesse corse appointed for the grave. Into that same he fell: which did from death him save.
XLIX
For nigh thereto the ever damned beast Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,° And all that life preserved did detest: 435 Yet he is oft adventur'd to invade. By this the drouping day-light gan to fade, And yield his roome to sad succeeding night, Who with her sable mantle gan to shade The face of earth, and wayes of living wight, 440 And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright.
L
When gentle Una saw the second fall Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight, And faint through losse of blood, mov'd not at all, But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, 445 Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay, Againe she stricken was with sore affright, And for his safetie gan devoutly pray, And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day. 450
LI
The joyous day gan early to appeare, And faire Aurora from the deawy bed Of aged Tithone gan herselfe to reare With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red; Her golden locks for haste were loosely shed 455 About her eares, when Una her did marke Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred; From heaven high to chase the chearelesse darke, With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.
LII
Then freshly up arose the doughtie knight, 460 All healed of his hurts and woundes wide, And did himselfe to battell ready dight; Whose early foe awaiting him beside To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde, When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, 465 As if late fight had nought him damnifyde, He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare; Nathlesse with wonted rage he him advaunced neare.
LIII
And in his first encounter, gaping wide,° He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, 470 And rusht upon him with outragious pride; Who him r'encountring fierce, as hauke in flight Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright Taking advantage of his open jaw, Ran through his mouth with so importune might, 475 That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw, And back retyrd,° his life blood forth with all did draw.
LIV
So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift; So downe he fell, that th' earth him underneath 480 Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift; So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift, Whose false foundation waves have washt away, With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift, And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay; 485 So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.
LV
The knight himselfe even trembled at his fall, So huge and horrible a masse it seem'd, And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all, Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem'd;° 490 But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright, She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end: Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight, That had atchieved so great a conquest by his might. 495
* * * * *
CANTO XII
Faire Una to the Redcrosse knight, betrouthed is with joy: Though false Duessa it to barre her false sleights doe imploy.
I
BEHOLD I see the haven nigh at hand, To which I meane my wearie course to bend; Vere the maine shete,° and beare up with the land, The which afore is fairely to be kend, And seemeth safe from storms that may offend; 5 There this faire virgin wearie of her way Must landed be, now at her journeyes end: There eke my feeble barke a while may stay Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.