Full fast she flies, and farre afore him goes,
Ne feeles the thornes and thickets pricke her
tender toes.

XXII

Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she staies,

But overleapes them all, like Robucke light, And through the thickest makes her nighest waies

That any little blow on her did light,
Then would he laugh aloud, and gather great
delight.

XXVII

Which subtill sleight did him encumber much, And made him oft, when he would strike, forbeare;

For hardly could he come the carle to touch,
But that he her must hurt, or hazard neare:
Yet he his hand so carefully did beare,
That at the last he did himselfe attaine,
And therein left the pike-head of his speare:
A streame of coleblacke bloud thence gusht
amaine,
[bestaine.

And evermore, when with regardfull sight
She looking backe espies that griesly wight
Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace,
And makes her feare a spur to hast her flight:
More swift then Myrrh' or Daphne in her race,
Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in salvage That all her silken garments did with bloud
chase.

Whom when on ground she groveling saw to Yet held her wrathfull hand from vengeance

rowle,

She ran in hast his life to have bereft;
But, ere she could him reach, the sinfull sowle
Having his carrion corse quite sencelesse left
Was fled to hell, surcharg'd with spoile and
theft:

sore:

But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld,
Is this the faith?' she said-and said no more,
But turnd her face, and fled away for evermore.

XXXVII

Yet over him she there long gazing stood,
And oft admir'd his monstrous shape, and oft
His mighty limbs, whilest all with filthy bloud
The place there overflowne seemd like a so-le durst not nigh approch, but kept aloofe,

He seeing her depart arose up light,
Right sore agrieved at her sharpe reproofe,
And follow'd fast; but, when he came in sight,

daine flood.

XXXIII

Thence forth she past into his dreadfull den, Where nought but darkesome drerinesse she found,

Ne creature saw, but hearkned now and then
Some litle whispering, and soft groning sound.
With that she askt, what ghosts there under
ground

Lay hid in horrour of eternall night?
And bad them, if so be they were not bound,
To come and shew themselves before the light,
Now freed from feare and danger of that dis-
mall wight.

XXXIV

Then forth the sad Emylia issewed, [feare;
Yet trembling every joynt through former
And after her the Hag, there with her mewed,
A foule and lothsome creature, did appeare,
A leman fit for such a lover deare:
That mov'd Belphebe her no lesse to hate,
Then for to rue the others heavy cheare;
Of whom she gan enquire of her estate,
Who all to her at large, as hapned, did relate.

XXXV

Thence she them brought toward the place where late

For dread of her displeasures utmost proofe:
And evermore, when he did grace entreat,
Her mortall arrowes she at him did threat,
And framed speaches fit for his behoofe,
And forst him backe with fowle dishonor to

retreat.

XXXVIII

At last, when long he follow'd had in vaine,
Yet found no ease of griefe nor hope of grace,
Unto those woods he turned backe againe,
Full of sad anguish and in heavy case :
And, finding there fit solitary place
For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy glade,
Where hardly eye mote see bright heavens face
For mossy trees, which covered all with shade
And sad melancholy: there he his cabin made.

XXXIX

Ilis wonted warlike weapons all he broke
And threw away, with vow to use no more,
Ne thenceforth ever strike in battell stroke,
Ne ever word to speake to woman more;
But in that wildernesse, of men forlore,
And of the wicked world forgotten quight,
His hard mishap in dolor to deplore,
And wast his wretched daies in wofull plight;
So on him selfe to wreake his follies owne de-
spight.

XL

She left the gentle Squire with Amoret: And eke his garment, to be thereto meet,
There she him found by that new lovely mate, He wilfully did cut and shape anew; [sweet
Who lay the whiles in swoune, full sadly set, And his faire lockes, that wont with ointment
From her faire eyes wiping the deawy wet To be embaulm'd, and sweat out dainty dew,
Which softly stild, and kissing them atweene, He let to grow and griesly to concrew,
And handling soft the hurts which she did get; Uncomb'd, uncurl'd, and carelesly unshed;
For of that Carle she sorely bruz'd had beene,
Als of his owne rash hand one wound was to

be seene.

That in short time his face they overgrew,
And over all his shoulders did dispred, [red.
That who he whilome was uneath was to be

And make me loath this life, still longing for Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him there