With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have at once devour'd her tender corse; But to the prey when as he drew more nigh, His bloody rage assuaged with remorse, And, with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force.

Instead thereof he kiss'd her weary feet, And lick'd her lily hands with fawning tongue, As he her wronged innocence did weet. O how can beauty master the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! Whose yielded pride and proud submission, Still dreading death, when she had marked long, Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion, And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

"The lion, lord of every beast in field,”
Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,
And mighty proud to humble weak does yield,
Forgetful of the hungry rage which late
Him prick'd, in pity of my sad estate :
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate
Her that him loved, and ever most adored,
As the God of my life? why hath he me abhorr'd?"

Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly echoed from the neighbour wood;
And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pity calm'd, down fell his angry mood.
At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,
Arose the virgin, born of heavenly blood,
And to her snowy palfrey got again,

To seek her strayed champion, if she might attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong guard Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate Of her sad troubles, and misfortunes hard. Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward; And, when she waked, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepared: From her fair eyes he took commandement, And ever by her looks conceived her intent.

Where grisly Night, with visage deadly sad,
That Phoebus' cheerful face durst never view,
And in a foul black pitchy mantle clad,
She finds forthcoming from her darksome mew,
Where she all day did hide her hated hue.
Before the door her iron chariot stood,
Already harnessed for journey new;

And coal-black steeds, yborn of hellish brood, That on their rusty bits did champ as they were wood".

So well they sped, that they be come at length Unto the place whereas the Paynim lay, Devoid of outward sense and native strength, Cover'd with charmed cloud, from view of day And sight of men, since his late luckless fray. His cruel wounds with cruddy blood congeal'd, They binden up so wisely as they may, And handle softly till they can be heal'd: So lay him in her chari't, close in Night conceal'd. And all the while she stood upon the ground, The wakeful dogs did never cease to bay, As giving warning of th' unwonted sound, With which her iron wheels did them affray, And her dark grisly look them much dismay The messenger of death, the ghastly owl, With dreary skrieks did also her bewray; And hungry wolves continually did howl At her abhorred face, so filthy and so foul.

By that same way the direful dames do drive Their mournful chariot, fill'd with rusty blood, And down to Pluto's house are come biliveb; Which passing through, on every side them stood The trembling ghosts, with sad amazed mood, Chattering their iron teeth, and staring wide With stony eyes; and all the hellish brood Of fiends infernal flock'd on every side To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.

BOOK II., CANTO VI.

A HARDER lesson to learn continence
In joyous pleasure than in grievous pain ;
For sweetness doth allure the weaker sense
So strongly, that uneathes it can refrain
From that which feeble nature covets fain ;
But grief and wrath, that be her enemies
And foes of life, she better can restrain :
Yet Virtue vaunts in both her victories,
And Guyon in them all shows goodly masteries.

Whom bold Cymochles travelling to find,
With cruel purpose bent to wreak on him
The wrath which Atin kindled in his mind,
Came to a river, by whose utmost brim
Waiting to pass, he saw whereas did swim
Along the shore, as swift as glance of eye,
A little gondelay, bedecked trim

With boughs and arbours woven cunningly, That like a little forest seemed outwardly ; b Quickly.

a Mad.

And therein sate a lady fresh and fair,
Making sweet solace to herself alone;
Sometimes she sung as loud as lark in air,
Sometimes she laugh'd, that nigh her breath was
Yet was there not with her else any one, [gone;
That to her might move cause of merriment;
Matter of mirth enough, though there were none,
She could devise, and thousand ways invent
To feel her foolish humour and vain jolliment.

Which when far off, Cymochles heard and saw,
He loudly call'd to such as were aboard
The little bark, unto the shore to draw,
And him to ferry over that deep ford:
The merry mariner unto his word

Soon heark'ned, and her painted boat straightway
Turn'd to the shore, where that same warlike lord
She in received; but Atin by no way

Diverse discourses in their way they spent ; 'Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned Both what she was, and what the usage meant, Which in her cot she daily practised? "Vain man!" said she," that wouldst be reckoned A stranger in thy home, and ignorant Of Phodria (for so my name is read) Of Phoedria, thine own fellow-servant : For thou to serve Acrasia thyself dost vaunt.

"In this wide inland sea, that hight by name
The Idle Lake, my wand'ring ship I row,
That knows her port, and thither sails by aim,
Ne care ne fear I how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend or whether slow:
Both slow and swift alike do serve my turn:
Ne swelling Neptune, ne loud-thund'ring Jove,
Can change my cheer, or make me ever mourn;

pray.

Eftsoons her shallow ship away did slide,
More swift than swallow sheers the liquid sky,
Withouten oar or pilot it to guide,

Or winged canvas with the wind to fly:
Only she turn'd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave;
Ne cared she her course for to apply,

For it was taught the way which she would have,
And both from rocks and flats itself could wisely

save.

And all the way the wanton damsel found
New mirth her passenger to entertain;
For she in pleasant purpose did abound,
And greatly joyed merry tales to feign,
Of which a store-house did with her remain,
Yet seemed nothing well they her became ;
For all her words she drown'd with laughter vain,
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasaunce to a scoffing game.

And other whiles vain toys she would devise
As her fantastic wit did most delight:
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudy garlands, or fresh flowrets dight
About her neck, or rings of rushes plight:
Sometimes to do him laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of the leaves light,
Or to behold the water work and play
About her little frigate, therein making way.

Her light behaviour and loose dalliance
Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no sovenaunce,
Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruel fight,
But to weak wench did yield his martial might:
So easy was to quench his flamed mind
With one sweet drop of sensual delight;
So easy is t' appease the stormy wind

Of malice in the calm of pleasant womankind.

bourne."

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toy'd,
They were far past the passage which he spake,
And come unto an island waste and void,
That floated in the midst of that great lake;
There her small gondelay her port did make,
And that gay pair issuing on the shore
Disburthen'd her: their way they forward take
Into the land that lay them fair before,
Whose pleasaunce she him shew'd, and plentiful
great store.

It was a chosen plot of fertile land,
Amongst wide waves set like a little nest,
As if it had by Nature's cunning hand
Been choicely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best :
No dainty flower or herb that grows on ground,
Nor arboret with painted blossoms drest,
And smelling sweet, but there it might be found
To bud out fair, and her sweet smells throw all
around.

No tree, whose branches did not bravely spring;
No branch, whereon a fine bird did not sit;
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
No song, but did contain a lovely dit.
Trees, branches, birds, and songs, were framed fit
For to allure frail mind to careless ease.
Careless the man soon woxe, and his weak wit
Was overcome of thing that did him please :
So pleased, did his wrathful purpose fair appease.

Thus when she had his eyes and senses fed
With false delights, and fill'd with pleasures vain,
Into a shady dale she soft him led,

And laid him down upon a grassy plain,
And her sweet self, without dread or disdain,
She set beside, laying his head disarm'd
In her loose lap, it softly to sustain,

Where soon he slumber'd, fearing not be harm'd; The whiles with a love-lay she thus him sweetly

charm'd :

F

"Behold, O man! that toilsome pains dost take,
The flowers, the fields, and all that pleasant grows,
How they themselves do thine ensample make,
Whiles nothing envious Nature them forth throws
Out of her fruitful lap: how no man knows
They spring, they bud, they blossom fresh and fair,
And deck the world with their rich pompous shows;
Yet no man for them taketh pains or care,
Yet no man to them can his careful pains compare.

"The lily, lady of the flow'ring field, The flower-de-luce, her lovely paramour, Bid thee to them thy fruitless labours yield, And soon leave off this toilsome weary stour; Lo, lo! how brave she decks her bounteous bower, With silken curtains and gold coverlets, Therein to shroud her sumptuous belamoure; Yet neither spins nor cards, ne cares nor frets, But to her mother Nature all her care she lets.

"Why then dost thou, O Man, that of them all Art lord, and eke of Nature sovereign, Wilfully make thyself a wretched thrall, And waste thy joyous hours in needless pain, Seeking for danger and adventure vain ? What boots it all to have and nothing use? Who shall him rue that, swimming in the main, Will die for thirst, and water doth refuse? Refuse such fruitless toil and present pleasures choose."

By this she had him lulled fast asleep,
That of no worldly thing he care did take;
Then she with liquors strong his eyes did steep,
That nothing should him hastily awake:
So she him left, and did herself betake
Unto her boat again, with which she cleft
The slothful wave of that great grisly lake;
Soon she that island far behind her left,

And now is come to that same place where first she weft.

By this time was the worthy Guyon brought Unto the other side of that wide strand Where she was rowing, and for passage sought: Him needed not long call; she soon to hand Her ferry brought, where him she biding found With his sad guide: himself she took aboard, But the black palmer suffer'd still to stand, Ne would for price or prayers once afford To ferry that old man over the perilous ford.

Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind, Yet being enter'd might not back retire ; For the flit bark obeying to her mind, Forth launched quickly, as she did desire, Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course Through the dull billows, thick as troubled mire, Whom neither wind out of their seat could force, Nor timely tides did drive out of their sluggish

source.

And by the way, as was her wonted guise, Her merry fit she freshly 'gan to rear, And did of joy and jollity devise, Herself to cherish, and her guest to cheer. The knight was courteous, and did not forbear Her honest mirth and pleasaunce to partake; But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and jeer, And pass the bonds of modest merimake, Her dalliance he despised, and follies did forsake.

Yet she still followed her former style, And said, and did all that mote him delight, Till they arrived in that pleasant isle, Where sleeping late she left her other knight : But whenas Guyon of that land had sight, He wist himself amiss, and angry said, "Ah! Dame, perdy ye have not done me right, Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obey'd: Me little needed from my right way to have stray'd.”

"Fair Sir!" quoth she," be not displeased at all; Who fares on sea may not command his way, Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call: The sea is wide, and easy for to stray, The wind unstable, and doth never stay: But here a while ye may in safety rest, Till season serve new passage to assay: Better safe port, than be in seas distrest." Therewith she laugh'd, and did her earnest end in jest.

But he, half discontent, mote natheless Himself appease, and issued forth on shore; The joys whereof, and happy fruitfulness, Such as he saw, she 'gan him lay before, And all though pleasant, yet she made much more. The fields did laugh, the flowers did freshly spring, The trees did bud, and early blossoms bore, And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing, And told the garden's pleasures in their caroling.

And she, more sweet than any bird on bough, Would oftentimes amongst them bear a part, And strive to pass (as she could well enough) Their native music by her skilful art : So did she all, that might his constant heart Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprise, And drown in dissolute delights apart, Where noise of arms, or view of martial guise Might not revive desire of knightly exercise.

But he was wise, and wary of her will,
And ever held his hand upon his heart;
Yet would not seem so rude and thewed ill,
As to despise so courteous seeming part,
That gentle lady did to him impart ;
But fairly tempering, fond desire subdued,
And ever her desired to depart;

She list not hear, but her disports pursued,
And ever bade him stay till time the tide renew’d.

SIR GUYON, GUIDED BY THE PALMER TEMPERANCE, PASSES THE DANGERS OF THE BOWER OF BLISS.

WITH that the rolling sea resounding soft,
In his big base them fitly answered,
And on the rock the waves breaking aloft,
A solemn mean unto them measured ;
The whiles sweet Zephyrus loud whistled
His treble, a strange kind of harmony,
Which Guyon's senses softly tickled,
That he the boatman bade row easily,

And let him hear some part of their rare melody.

But him the palmer from that vanity With temperate advice discounselled, That they it past, and shortly 'gan descry The land to which their course they levelled; When suddenly a gross fog overspread With his dull vapour all that desert has, And heaven's cheerful face enveloped, That all things one, and one as nothing was, And this great universe seem'd one confused mass. Thereat they greatly were dismay'd, ne wist How to direct their way in darkness wide, But fear'd to wander in that wasteful mist, For tumbling into mischief unespied : Worse is the danger hidden than descried. Suddenly an innumerable flight

Of harmful fowls about them fluttering cried, And with their wicked wings them oft did smite, And sore annoy'd, groping in that griesly night.

Even all the nation of unfortunate

And fatal birds about them flocked were, Such as by nature men abhor and hate; The ill-faced owl, death's dreadful messenger; The hoarse night-raven, trump of doleful drear; The leather-winged bat, day's enemy; The rueful strich, still waiting on the bier; The whistler shrill, that whoso hears doth die ; The hellish harpies, prophets of sad destiny;

All those, and all that else does horror breed, About them flew, and fill'd their sails with fear : Yet stay'd they not, but forward did proceed, Whiles th' one did row, and th' other stiffly steer; Till that at last the weather gan to clear, And the fair land itself did plainly show. Said then the palmer, "Lo where does appear The sacred soil where all our perils grow, Therefore, Sir Knight, your ready arms about you throw."

He hearken'd, and his arms about him took, The whiles the nimble boat so well her sped, That with her crooked keel the land she struck; Then forth the noble Guyon sallied, And his sage palmer that him governed ; But the other by his boat behind did stay. They marched fairly forth, of nought ydred, Both firmly arm'd for every hard assay, With constancy and care, gainst danger and dismay.

Ere long they heard an hideous bellowing Of many beasts, that roar'd outrageously. As if that Hunger's point, or Venus' sting, Had them enraged with fell surquedry; Yet nought they fear'd, but past on hardily, Until they came in view of those wild beasts, Who all at once, gaping full greedily, And rearing fiercely their upstarting crests, Ran towards to devour those unexpected guests.

But soon as they approach'd with deadly threat, The palmer over them his staff upheld, His mighty staff, that could all charms defeat; Eftsoons their stubborn courages were quell'd, And high-advanced crests down meekly fell'd: Instead of fraying they themselves did fear, And trembled, as them passing they beheld: Such wond'rous power did in that staff appear, All monsters to subdue to him that did it bear.

Of that same wood it framed was cunningly
Of which Caduceus whileome was made,
Caduceus, the rod of Mercury,

With which he wont the Stygian realms invade
Through ghastly horror and eternal shade;
Th' infernal fiends with it he can assuage,
And Orcus tame, whom nothing can persuade,
And rule the furies when they most do rage:
Such virtue in his staff had eke this palmer sage.

Thence passing forth, they shortly do arrive Whereat the Bower of Bliss was situate; A place pick'd out by choice of best alive, That Nature's work by art can imitate : In which whatever in this worldly state Is sweet and pleasing unto living sense, Or that may daintiest fantasy aggrate, Was poured forth with plentiful dispense, And made there to abound with lavish affluence.

Goodly it was, enclosed round about,
As well their enter'd guests to keep within,
As those unruly beasts to hold without;
Yet was the fence thereof but weak and thin
Nought fear'd they force that fortilage to win,
But Wisdom's power, and Temperance's might,
By which the mightiest things efforced been:
And eke the gate was wrought of substance
light,

Rather for pleasure than for battery or fight.

It framed was of precious ivory,

That seem'd a work of admirable wit, And therein all the famous history Of Jason and Medea was ywrit; Her mighty charms, her furious loving fit, His goodly conquest of the Golden Fleece, His falsed faith, and love too lightly flit, The wondered Argo, which, in venturous peace, First through the Euxine seas bore all the flower of Greece.