| |
| | Pyrochles does with Guyon fight, |
| And Furors chayne unbinds; |
| Of whom sore hurt, for his revenge |
| Attin Cymochles finds. |
I WHO ever doth to temperaunce apply | |
| His stedfast life, and all his actions frame, | |
| Trust me, shal find no greater enimy, | |
| Then stubborne perturbation, to the same; | |
| To which right wel the wise doe give that name; | 5 |
| For it the goodly peace of staied mindes | |
| Does overthrow, and troublous warre proclame: | |
| His owne woes author, who so bound it findes, | |
| As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully unbindes. | |
| |
II After that varlets flight, it was not long, | 10 |
| Ere on the plaine fast pricking Guyon spide | |
| One in bright armes embatteiled full strong, | |
| That as the sunny beames doe glaunce and glide | |
| Upon the trembling wave, so shined bright, | |
| And round about him threw forth sparkling fire, | 15 |
| That seemd him to enflame on every side: | |
| His steed was bloody red, and fomed yre, | |
| When with the maistring spur he did him roughly stire. | |
| |
III Approching nigh, he never staid to greete, | |
| Ne chaffar words, prowd corage to provoke, | 20 |
| But prickt so fiers, that underneath his feete | |
| The smouldring dust did rownd about him smoke, | |
| Both horse and man nigh able for to choke; | |
| And fayrly couching his steele headed speare, | |
| Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke: | 25 |
| It booted nought Sir Guyon, comming neare, | |
| To thincke such hideous puissaunce on foot to beare; | |
| |
IV But lightly shunned it, and passing by, | |
| With his bright blade did smite at him so fell, | |
| That the sharpe steele, arriving forcibly | 30 |
| On his broad shield, bitt not, but glauncing fell | |
| On his horse necke before the quilted sell, | |
| And from the head the body sundred quight. | |
| So him, dismounted low, he did compell | |
| On foot with him to matchen equall fight; | 35 |
| The truncked beast, fast bleeding, did him fowly dight. | |
| |
V Sore bruzed with the fall, he slow uprose, | |
| And all enraged, thus him loudly shent: | |
| Disleall knight, whose coward corage chose | |
| To weake it selfe on beast all innocent, | 40 |
| And shund the market at which it should be ment! | |
| Therby thine armes seem strong, but manhood frayl: | |
| So hast thou oft with guile thine honor blent; | |
| But litle may such guile thee now avayl, | |
| If wonted force and fortune doe not much me fayl. | 45 |
| |
VI With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke | |
| At him so fiercely, that the upper marge | |
| Of his sevenfolded shield away it tooke, | |
| And glauncing on his helmet, made a large | |
| And open gash therein: were not his targe, | 50 |
| That broke the violence of his intent, | |
| The weary sowle from thence it would discharge: | |
| Nathelesse so sore a buff to him it lent, | |
| That made him reele, and to his brest his bever bent. | |
| |
VII Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow, | 55 |
| And much ashamd that stroke of living arme | |
| Should him dismay, and make him stoup so low, | |
| Though otherwise it did him litle harme: | |
| Tho, hurling high his yron braced arme, | |
| He smote so manly on his shoulder plate, | 60 |
| That all his left side it did quite disarme; | |
| Yet there the steele stayd not, but inly bate | |
| Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate. | |
| |
VIII Deadly dismayd with horror of that dint | |
| Pyrochles was, and grieved eke entyre; | 65 |
| Yet nathemore did it his fury stint, | |
| But added flame unto his former fire, | |
| That welnigh molt his hart in raging yre; | |
| Ne thenceforth his approved skill, to ward, | |
| Or strike, or hurtle rownd in warlike gyre, | 70 |
| Remembred he, ne card for his saufgard, | |
| But rudely ragd, and like a cruel tygre fard. | |
| |
IX He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thondred blowes, | |
| And every way did seeke into his life; | |
| Ne plate, ne male could ward so mighty throwes, | 75 |
| But yeilded passage to his cruell knife. | |
| But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife, | |
| Was wary wise, and closely did awayt | |
| Avauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife: | |
| Sometimes a thwart, sometimes he strook him strayt, | 80 |
| And falsed oft his blowes, t illude him with such bayt. | |
| |
X Like as a lyon, whose imperiall powre | |
| A prowd rebellious unicorne defyes, | |
| T avoide the rash assault and wrathfull stowre | |
| Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applyes, | 85 |
| And when him ronning in full course he spyes, | |
| He slips aside; the whiles that furious beast | |
| His precious horne, sought of his enimyes, | |
| Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast, | |
| But to the mighty victor yields a bounteous feast. | 90 |
| |
XI With such faire sleight him Guyon often fayld, | |
| Till at the last all breathlesse, weary, faint | |
| Him spying, with fresh onsett he assayld, | |
| And kindling new his corage seeming queint, | |
| Strooke him so hugely, that through great constraint | 95 |
| He made him stoup perforce unto his knee, | |
| And doe unwilling worship to the saint, | |
| That on his shield depainted he did see: | |
| Such homage till that instant never learned hee. | |
| |
XII Whom Guyon seeing stoup, poursewed fast | 100 |
| The present offer of faire victory, | |
| And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast, | |
| Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye, | |
| That streight on grownd made him full low to lye; | |
| Then on his brest his victor foote he thrust: | 105 |
| With that he cryde: Mercy! doe me not dye, | |
| Ne deeme thy force by Fortunes doome unjust, | |
| That hath (maugre her spight!) thus low me laid in dust. | |
| |
XIII Eftsoones his cruel hand Sir Guyon stayd, | |
| Tempring the passion with advizement slow, | 110 |
| And maistring might on enimy dismayd; | |
| For th equall die of warre he well did know: | |
| Then to him said: Live, and alleagaunce owe | |
| To him that gives thee life and liberty, | |
| And henceforth by this daies ensample trow, | 115 |
| That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardry, | |
| Doe breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamy. | |
| |
XIV So up he let him rise; who, with grim looke | |
| And countnaunce sterne upstanding, gan to grind | |
| His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke | 120 |
| His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind, | |
| Knotted in blood and dust, for griefe of mind, | |
| That he in ods of armes was conquered; | |
| Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find, | |
| That him so noble knight had maystered, | 125 |
| Whose bounty more then might, yet both, he wondered. | |
| |
XV Which Guyon marking said: Be nought agrievd, | |
| Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre: | |
| Was never man, who most conquestes atchievd, | |
| But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre, | 130 |
| Yet shortly gaynd that losse exceeded farre: | |
| Losse is no shame, nor to bee lesse then foe, | |
| But to bee lesser then himselfe doth marre | |
| Both loosers lott, and victours prayse alsoe: | |
| Vaine others overthrowes who selfe doth overthrow. | 135 |
| |
XVI Fly, O Pyrochles, fly the dreadfull warre, | |
| That in thy selfe thy lesser partes doe move, | |
| Outrageous anger, and woe working jarre, | |
| Direfull impatience, and hartmurdring love; | |
| Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remove, | 140 |
| Which thee to endlesse bale captived lead. | |
| But sith in might thou didst my mercy prove, | |
| Of courtesie to mee the cause aread, | |
| That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread. | |
| |
XVII Dreadlesse, said he, that shall I soone declare: | 145 |
| It was complaind that thou hadst done great tort | |
| Unto an aged woman, poore and bare, | |
| And thralled her in chaines with strong effort, | |
| Voide of all succour and needfull comfort: | |
| That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see, | 150 |
| To worke such shame. Therefore I thee exhort | |
| To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion free, | |
| And to her captive sonne yield his first libertee. | |
| |
XVIII Thereat Sir Guyon smylde: And is that all, | |
| Said he, that thee so sore displeased hath? | 155 |
| Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall, | |
| Whose freedom shall thee turne to greatest scath! | |
| Nathlesse now quench thy whott emboyling wrath: | |
| Loe! there they bee; to thee I yield them free. | |
| Thereat he wondrous glad, out of the path | 160 |
| Did lightly leape, where he them bound did see, | |
| And gan to breake the bands of their captivitee. | |
| |
XIX Soone as Occasion felt her selfe untyde, | |
| Before her sonne could well assoyled bee, | |
| She to her use returnd, and streight defyde | 165 |
| Both Guyon and Pyrochles: th one (said shee) | |
| Bycause he wonne; the other because hee | |
| Was wonne: so matter did she make of nought, | |
| To stirre up strife, and do them disagree: | |
| But soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought | 170 |
| To kindle his quencht fyre, and thousand causes wrought. | |
| |
XX It was not long ere she inflamd him so, | |
| That he would algates with Pyrochles fight, | |
| And his redeemer chalengd for his foe, | |
| Because he had not well mainteind his right, | 175 |
| But yielded had to that same straunger knight: | |
| Now gan Pyrochles wex as wood as hee, | |
| And him affronted with impatient might: | |
| So both together fiers engrasped bee, | |
| Whyles Guyon, standing by, their uncouth strife does see. | 180 |
| |
XXI Him all that while Occasion did provoke | |
| Against Pyrochles, and new matter framd | |
| Upon the old, him stirring to bee wroke | |
| Of his late wronges, in which she oft him blamd | |
| For suffering such abuse as knighthood shamd, | 185 |
| And him dishabled quyte. But he was wise, | |
| Ne would with vaine occasions be inflamd; | |
| Yet others she more urgent did devise; | |
| Yet nothing could him to impatience entise. | |
| |
XXII Their fell contention still increased more, | 190 |
| And more thereby increased Furors might, | |
| That he his foe has hurt, and wounded sore, | |
| And him in blood and durt deformed quight. | |
| His mother eke, more to augment his spight, | |
| Now brought to him a flaming fyer brond, | 195 |
| Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning bright, | |
| Had kindled: that she gave into his hond, | |
| That, armd with fire, more hardly he mote him withstond. | |
| |
XXIII Tho gan that villein wex so fiers and strong, | |
| That nothing might sustaine his furious forse: | 200 |
| He cast him downe to ground, and all along | |
| Drew him through durt and myre without remorse, | |
| And fowly battered his comely corse, | |
| That Guyon much disdeignd so loathly sight. | |
| At last he was compeld to cry perforse, | 205 |
| Help, O Sir Guyon! helpe, most noble knight, | |
| To ridd a wretched man from handes of hellish wight! | |
| |
XXIV The knight was greatly moved at his playnt, | |
| And gan him dight to succour his distresse, | |
| Till that the palmer, by his grave restraynt, | 210 |
| Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse, | |
| And said: Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth represse, | |
| Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne: | |
| He that his sorow sought through wilfulnesse, | |
| And his foe fettred would release agayne, | 215 |
| Deserves to taste his follies fruit, repented payne. | |
| |
XXV Guyon obayd: so him away he drew | |
| From needlesse trouble of renewing fight | |
| Already fought, his voyage to poursew. | |
| But rash Pyrochles varlett, Atin hight, | 220 |
| When late he saw his lord in heavie plight, | |
| Under Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall, | |
| Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight, | |
| Fledd fast away, to tell his funerall | |
| Unto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call. | 225 |
| |
XXVI He was a man of rare redoubted might, | |
| Famous throughout the world for warlike prayse, | |
| And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight: | |
| Full many doughtie knightes he in his dayes | |
| Had doen to death, subdewde in equall frayes, | 230 |
| Whose carkases, for terrour of his name, | |
| Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous prayes, | |
| And hong their conquerd armes for more defame | |
| On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest dame. | |
| |
XXVII His dearest dame is that enchaunteresse, | 235 |
| The vyle Acrasia, that with vaine delightes, | |
| And ydle pleasures in her Bowre of Blisse, | |
| Does charme her lovers, and the feeble sprightes | |
| Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes; | |
| Whom then she does trasforme to monstrous hewes, | 240 |
| And horribly misshapes with ugly sightes, | |
| Captivd eternally in yron mewes, | |
| And darksom dens, where Titan his face never shewes. | |
| |
XXVIII There Atin fownd Cymochles sojourning, | |
| To serve his lemans love: for he by kynd | 245 |
| Was given all to lust and loose living, | |
| When ever his fiers handes he free mote fynd: | |
| And now he has pourd out his ydle mynd | |
| In daintie delices and lavish joyes, | |
| Having his warlike weapons cast behynd, | 250 |
| And flowes in pleasures and vaine pleasing toyes, | |
| Mingled emongst loose ladies and lascivious boyes. | |
| |
XXIX And over him, Art, stryving to compayre | |
| With Nature, did an arber greene dispred, | |
| Framed of wanton yvie, flouring fayre, | 255 |
| Through which the fragrant eglantine did spred | |
| His prickling armes, entrayld with roses red, | |
| Which daintie odours round about them threw; | |
| And all within with flowres was garnished, | |
| That, when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew, | 260 |
| Did breath out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew. | |
| |
XXX And fast beside, there trickled softly downe | |
| A gentle streame, whose murmuring wave did play | |
| Emongst the pumy stones, and made a sowne, | |
| To lull him soft a sleepe, that by it lay: | 265 |
| The wearie traveiler, wandring that way, | |
| Therein did often quench his thristy heat, | |
| And then by it his wearie limbes display, | |
| Whiles creeping slomber made him to forget | |
| His former payne, and wypt away his toilsom sweat. | 270 |
| |
XXXI And on the other syde a pleasaunt grove | |
| Was shott up high, full of the stately tree | |
| That dedicated is t Olympick Jove, | |
| And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee | |
| Gaynd in Nemea goodly victoree: | 275 |
| Therein the mery birdes of every sorte | |
| Chaunted alowd their chearefull harmonee, | |
| And made emongst them selves a sweete consort, | |
| That quickned the dull spright with musicall comfort. | |
| |
XXXII There he him found all carelesly displaid, | 280 |
| In secrete shadow from the sunny ray, | |
| On a sweet bed of lillies softly laid, | |
| Amidst a flock of damzelles fresh and gay, | |
| That rownd about him dissolute did play | |
| Their wanton follies and light meriment; | 285 |
| Every of which did loosely disaray | |
| Her upper partes of meet habiliments, | |
| And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments. | |
| |
XXXIII And every of them strove, with most delights | |
| Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew; | 290 |
| Some framd faire lookes, glancing like evening lights, | |
| Others sweet wordes, dropping like honny dew; | |
| Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew | |
| The sugred licour through his melting lips: | |
| One boastes her beautie, and does yield to vew | 295 |
| Her dainty limbes above her tender hips; | |
| Another her out boastes, and all for tryall strips. | |
| |
XXXIV He, like an adder lurking in the weedes, | |
| His wandring thought in deepe desire does steepe, | |
| And his frayle eye with spoyle of beauty feedes: | 300 |
| Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe, | |
| Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe, | |
| To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt, | |
| Whereby close fire into his heart does creepe: | |
| So he them deceives, deceivd in his deceipt, | 305 |
| Made dronke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt. | |
| |
XXXV Attin, arriving there, when him he spyde | |
| Thus in still waves of deepe delight to wade, | |
| Fiercely approching, to him lowdly cryde, | |
| Cymochles! oh! no, but Cymochles shade, | 310 |
| In which that manly person late did fade! | |
| What is become of great Acrates sonne? | |
| Or where hath he hong up his mortall blade, | |
| That hath so many haughty conquests wonne? | |
| Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne? | 315 |
| |
XXXVI Then pricking him with his sharp-pointed dart, | |
| He saide: Up, up! thou womanish weake knight, | |
| That here in ladies lap entombed art, | |
| Unmindfull of thy praise and prowest might, | |
| And weetlesse eke of lately wrought despight, | 320 |
| Whiles sad Pyrochles lies on sencelesse ground, | |
| And groneth out his utmost grudging spright, | |
| Through many a stroke, and many a streaming wound, | |
| Calling thy help in vaine, that here in joyes art dround. | |
| |
XXXVII Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame | 325 |
| The man awoke, and would have questiond more; | |
| But he would not endure that wofull theame | |
| For to dilate at large, but urged sore, | |
| With percing wordes and pittifull implore, | |
| Him hasty to arise. As one affright | 330 |
| With hellish feends, or Furies mad uprore, | |
| He then uprose, inflamd with fell despight, | |
| And called for his armes; for he would algates fight. | |
| |
XXXVIII They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight, | |
| And, lightly mounted, passeth on his way; | 335 |
| Ne ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties might | |
| Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay; | |
| For he has vowd to beene avengd that day | |
| (That day it selfe him seemed all too long) | |
| On him that did Pyrochles deare dismay: | 340 |
| So proudly pricketh on his courser strong, | |
| And Attin ay him pricks with spurs of shame and wrong. | |
| |