And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw, That her enhaunced hand she downe can soft withdraw.
Yet she it forst to have againe upheld, As fayning choler which was turn'd to cold: But ever when his visage she beheld, Her hand fell downe, and would no longer hold The wrathfull weapon gainst his countnance bold:
But, when in vaine to fight she oft assayd, She arm'd her tongue, and thought at him to scold;
Nathlesse her tongue not to her will obayd, But brought forth speeches myld when she would have missayd.
But Scudamour, now woxen inly glad
That all his gealous feare he false had found,
And how that Hag his love abused had
With breach of faith and loyaltie unsound,
The which long time his grieved hart did
wound,
Him thus bespake: 'Certes, Sir Artegall,
I joy to see you lout so low on ground,
Which when as Scudamour, who now a- And now become to live a Ladies thrall,
Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside,
He was therewith right wondrously dismayd; And drawing nigh, when as he plaine descride
That peerelesse paterne of Dame Natures pride
And heavenly image of perfection,
He blest himselfe as one sore terrifide:
And, turning feare to faint devotion,
Did worship her as some celestiall vision.
But Glaucè, seeing all that chaunced there, Well weeting how their errour to assoyle, Full glad of so good end, to them drew nere, And her salewd with seemely bel-accoyle, Joyous to see her safe after long toyle. Then her besought, as she to her was deare, To graunt unto those warriours truce a whyle; Which yeelded, they their bevers up did reare, And shew'd themselves to her such as indeed they were.
When Britomart with sharpe avizefull eye Beheld the lovely face of Artegall Tempred with sternesse and stout majestie, She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call To be the same which in her fathers hall
That whylome in your minde wont to despise them all.'
Soone as she heard the name of Artegall, Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings tremble,
For sudden joy and secret feare withall;
And all her vitall powres, with motion nimble
To succour it, themselves gan there assemble;
That by the swift recourse of flushing blood
Right plaine appeard, though she it would dis-
semble,
Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the
And fayned still her former angry mood,
flood.
When Glaucè thus gan wisely all upknit : 'Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here hath Which secret fate hath in this Ladie wrought To be spectators of this uncouth fit, [brought Against the course of kind, ne mervaile nought, Ne thenceforth feare the thing that hethertoo Hath troubled both your mindes with idle thought,
Fearing least she your loves away should woo: Feared in vaine, sith meanes, ye see, there wants there too.
Long since in that enchaunted glasse she saw; And you, Sir Artegall, the salvage knight,
Therewith her wrathfull courage gan appall,
Henceforth may not disdaine that womans hand
His hart was thrild with point of deadly feare,
When Scudamour those heavie tydings heard,
Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard;
But senselesse stood, like to a mazed steare
That yet of mortall stroke the stound doth
beare,
[mayd
With needlesse dread, till certaintie ye heare;
Till Glaucè thus: Faire Sir, be nought dis-
For yet she may be safe though somewhat
strayd:
[affrayd.'
Its best to hope the best, though of the worst
Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull speech Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight Shew'd change of better cheare: so sore a breach
Yet durst he not make love so suddenly,
Ne thinke th' affection of her hart to draw
From one to other so quite contrary:
Besides her modest countenance he saw
So goodly grave, and full of princely aw,
That it his ranging fancie did refraine,
And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds with-
draw;
[faine, That sudden newes had made into his spright,
Whereby the passion grew more fierce and Till Britomart him fairely thus behight:
Like to a stubborne steede whom strong hand 'Great cause of sorrow certes, Sir, ye have;
But Scudamour, whose hart twixt doubtfull
feare
And feeble hope hung all this while suspence,
Desiring of his Amoret to heare
Some gladfull newes and sure intelligence,
Her thus bespake: But, Sir, without offence
Mote I request you tydings of my love,
My Amoret, sith you her freed fro thence
Where she, captived long, great woes did prove:
That where ye left I may her seeke, as doth
behove.'
To whom thus Britomart: Certes, Sir knight,
What is of her become, or whether reft,
I can not unto you aread a right:
For from that time I from enchaunters theft
Her freed, in which ye her all hopelesse left,
I her preserv'd from perill and from feare,
And evermore from villenie her kept:
Ne ever was there wight to me more deare
Then she, ne unto whom I more true love did
beare:
But comfort take; for, by this heavens light,
I vow you dead or living not to leave, [reave.'
Till I her find, and wreake on him that did her
Therewith he rested, and well pleased was:
So, peace being confirm'd amongst them all,
They tooke their steeds, and forward thence
did pas
Unto some resting place, which mote befall,
All being guided by Sir Artegall:
Where goodly solace was unto them made,
And dayly feasting both in bowre and hall,
Untill that they their wounds well healed had,
And wearie limmes recur'd after late usage bad.
In all which time Sir Artegall made way
Unto the love of noble Britomart,
And with meeke service and much suit did lay
Continuall siege unto her gentle hart; [dart,
Which, being whylome launcht with lovely
More eath was new impression to receive;
How ever she her paynd with womanish art
To hide her wound, that none might it perceive:
Vaine is the art that seekes it selfe for to deceive.
Forth on his way to which he was ybent; So well he woo'd her, and so well he wrought Ne wight him to attend, or way to guide,
her,
With faire entreatie and sweet blandishment,
That at the length unto a bay he brought her,
So as she to his speeches was content
To lend an eare, and softly to relent. [pour'd,
At last, through many vowes which forth he
And many othes, she yeelded her consent
To be his love, and take him for her Lord,
Till they with mariage meet might finish that
accord.
Tho, when they had long time there taken rest,
Sir Artegall, who all this while was bound
Upon an hard adventure yet in quest,
Fit time for him thence to depart it found,
To follow that which he did long propound,
And unto her his congee came to take;
But her therewith full sore displeasd he found,
And loth to leave her late betrothed make,
Her dearest love full loth so shortly to forsake.
Yet he with strong perswasions her asswaged,
And wonne her will to suffer him depart;
For which his faith with her he fast engaged,
And thousand vowes from bottome of his hart,
That, all so soone as he by wit or art
Could that atchieve whereto he did aspire,
He unto her would speedily revert:
No longer space thereto he did desire, [expire.
But till the horned moone three courses did
With which she for the present was appeased,
And yeelded leave, how ever malcontent
She inly were and in her mind displeased.
So, early in the morrow next, he went
As whylome was the custome ancient [ride,
Mongst Knights when on adventures they did
Save that she algates him a while accompanide.
And by the way she sundry purpose found
Of this or that, the time for to delay,
And of the perils whereto he was bound,
The feare whereof seem'd much her to affray;
But all she did was but to weare out day.
Full oftentimes she leave of him did take;
And eft againe deviz'd some what to say,
Which she forgot, whereby excuse to make;
So loth she was his companie for to forsake.
At last, when all her speeches she had spent,
And new occasion fayld her more to find,
She left him to his fortunes government,
And backe returned with right heavie mind
To Scudamour, whom she had left behind:
With whom she went to seeke faire Amoret,
Her second care, though in another kind:
For vertues onely sake, which doth beget
True love and faithfull friendship, she by her
did set.
Backe to that desert forrest they retyred,
Where sorie Britomart had lost her late;
There they her sought, and every where in-
quired
Where they might tydings get of her estate;
Yet found they none. But by what haplesse fate
Or hard misfortune she was thence convayd,
And stolne away from her beloved mate,
Were long to tell; therefore, I here will stay
Untill another tyde that I it finish may.
Whose knottie snags were sharpned all afore,
And beath'd in fire for steele to be in sted.
But whence he was, or of what wombe ybore,
Of beasts, or of the earth, I have not red,
But certes was with milke of Wolves and
Tygres fed.
Aye me!' (said she) 'where am I, or with whom?
Emong the living, or emong the dead?
What shall of me, unhappy maid, become?
Shall death be th' end, or ought else worse,
aread?'
Unhappy mayd' (then answer'd she), 'whose dread
Untride is lesse then when thou shalt it try: Death is to him, that wretched life doth lead, Both grace and gaine; but he in hell doth lie, That lives a loathed life, and wishing cannot die.
Thenceforth I sought by secret meanes to
Time to my will, and from his wrathfull sight
To hide th❜intent which in my heart did lurke;
Till I thereto had all things ready dight.
So on a day, unweeting unto wight,
with that Squire agreede away to flit,
And in a privy place, betwixt us hight,
Within a grove appointed him to meete;
To which I boldly came upon my feeble feete.
XVIII
But ah! unhappy houre me thither brought,
For in that place where I him thought to find,
There was I found, contrary to my thought,
Of this accursed Carle of hellish kind,
The shame of men, and plague of womankind :
Who trussing me, as Eagle doth his pray,
Me hether brought with him as swift as wind,
Where yet untouched till this present day,
I rest his wretched thrall, the sad Æmylia.'
'Ah, dreadfull tidings which thou doest de-Ah, sad Æmylia!' (then sayd Amoret)
(Quoth she) of all that ever hath bene knowen!
Full many great calamities and rare
This feeble brest endured hath, but none
Equall to this, where ever I have gone.
But what are you, whom like unlucky lot
Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne.
But read to me, by what devise or wit
Hast thou in all this time, from him unknowne,
Thine honor sav'd, though into thraldome
throwne ?'
[man here Through helpe' (quoth she) of this old woHath linckt with me in the same chaine attone?' I have so done, as she to me hath showne; For, ever when he burnt in lustfull fire, [got! She in my stead supplide his bestiall desire.'
'To tell' (quoth she) 'that what ye see, needs not;
A wofull wretched maid, of God and man for
|