XXI
Then forth he called that his daughter faire, The fairest Un' his onely daughter deare, His onely daughter, and his onely heyre; Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare, As bright as doth the morning starre appeare 185 Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight, To tell that dawning day is drawing neare, And to the world does bring long wished light: So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.
XXII
So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; 190 For she had layd her mournefull stole aside, And widow-like sad wimple throwne away, Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide, Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride; And on her now a garment she did weare, 195 All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride, That seemd like silke and silver woven neare, But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare.
XXIII
The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 200 To tell, were as to strive against the streame; My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace, Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace. Ne wonder; for her owne deare loved knight, All were she° dayly with himselfe in place, 205 Did wonder much at her celestiall sight: Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight.
XXIV
So fairely dight, when she in presence came, She to her Sire made humble reverence, And bowed low, that her right well became, 210 And added grace unto her excellence: Who with great wisedome and grave eloquence Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said, With flying speede, and seeming great pretence Came running in, much like a man dismaid, 215 A Messenger with letters, which his message said.
XXV
All in the open hall amazed stood At suddeinnesse of that unwarie sight, And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood. But he for nought would stay his passage right, 220 Till fast before the king he did alight; Where falling flat, great humblesse he did make, And kist the ground, whereon his foot was pight; Then to his hands that writ he did betake, Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake. 225
XXVI
To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire, Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest, The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire Of that great Emperour of all the West; And bids thee be advized for the best, 230 Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band Of wedlocke to that new unknowen guest: For he already plighted his right hand Unto another love, and to another land.
XXVII
To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, 235 He was affiaunced long time before, And sacred pledges he both gave, and had, False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore: Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore, And guiltie heavens of his bold perjury, 240 Which though he hath polluted oft of yore, Yet I to them for judgement just do fly, And them conjure t'avenge this shamefull injury.
XXVIII
Therefore since mine he is, or free or bond, Or false or trew, or living or else dead, 245 Withhold, O soveraine Prince, your hasty hond From knitting league with him, I you aread; Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread, Through weaknesse of my widowhed, or woe; For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead, 250 And shall find friends, if need requireth soe. So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, _Fidessa_.
XXIX
When he these bitter byting wordes had red, The tydings straunge did him abashed make, That still he sate long time astonished, 255 As in great muse, ne word to creature spake. At last his solemne silence thus he brake, With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest; Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake Thy life and honour late adventurest, 260 Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.
XXX
What meane these bloody vowes, and idle threats, Throwne out from womanish impatient mind? What heavens? what altars? what enraged heates Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265 My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind? High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame. But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find, Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame, With crime do not it cover, but disclose the same. 270
XXXI
To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd, Till well ye wote by grave intendiment, What woman, and wherefere doth me upbrayd With breach of love, and loyalty betrayd. 275 It was in my mishaps, as hitherward I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard; That day should faile me, ere I had them all declard.
XXXII
There did I find, or rather I was found 280 Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight, Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground, Most false Duessa, royall richly dight, That easy was to invegle weaker sight: Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill, 285 Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will, And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.
XXXIII
Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, And on the ground her selfe prostrating low, 290 With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd; O pardon me, my soveraigne Lord, to show The secret treasons, which of late I know To have bene wroght by that false sorceresse. She onely she it is, that earst did throw 295 This gentle knight into so great distresse, That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.
XXXIV
And now it seemes, that she suborned hath This craftie messenger with letters vaine, To worke new woe and unprovided scath, 300 By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine; Wherein she used hath the practicke paine Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse, Whom if ye please for to discover plaine, Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse, 305 The falsest man alive; who tries shall find no lesse.
XXXV
The king was greatly moved at her speach, And, all with suddein indignation fraight, Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach. Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, 310 Attacht that faitor false, and bound him strait: Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band, As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,° With idle force did faine them to withstand, And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand. 315
XXXVI
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, And bound him hand and foote with yron chains And with continual watch did warely keepe: Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains He could escape fowle death or deadly paines? 320 Thus when that princes wrath was pacifide, He gan renew the late forbidden bains, And to the knight his daughter dear he tyde, With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyde.
XXXVII
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, 325 That none but death for ever can devide; His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit, The housling fire° did kindle and provide, And holy water thereon sprinckled wide; At which the bushy Teade a groome did light, 330 And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide, Where it should not be quenched day nor night, For feare of evill fates, but burnen ever bright.
XXXVIII
Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, And made great feast to solemnize that day; 335 They all perfumde with frankencense divine, And precious odours fetcht from far away, That all the house did sweat with great aray: And all the while sweete Musicke did apply Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play, 340 To drive away the dull Melancholy; The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity.
XXXIX
During the which there was an heavenly noise Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly, Like as it had bene many an Angels voice 345 Singing before th' eternall Majesty, In their trinall triplicities° on hye; Yet wist no creature whence that heavenly sweet Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet, 350 And ravished with rare impression in his sprite.