him thither hastly got:
For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie, 255
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That living creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie, 255
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That living creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
Spenser - Faerie Queene - 1
) 195
Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,?
He that the wide West under his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.
XXIII
He in the first flowre of my freshest age,
Betrothed me unto the onely haire? 200
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was never Prince so faithfull and so faire,
Was never Prince so meeke and debonaire;
But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,
My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire 205
Into the hands of his accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine, that shall I ever mone.
XXIV
His blessed body spoild of lively breath,
Was afterward, I know not how, convaid
And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death 210
When tidings came to me, unhappy maid,
O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.
Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,
And many yeares throughout the world I straid,
A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind 215
With love long time did languish as the striken hind.
XXV
At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin
To meete me wandring, who perforce me led
With him away, but yet could never win
The Fort, that Ladies hold in soveraigne dread; 220
There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,
Who whiles he livde, was called proud Sansfoy,
The eldest of three brethren, all three bred
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sansjoy;
And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sansloy. 225
XXVI
In this sad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate,
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you in pitty of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
He in great passion all this while did dwell, 230
More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
And said, Faire Lady hart of flint would rew
The undeserved woes and sorrowes which ye shew.
XXVII
Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, 235
Having both found a new friend you to aid,
And lost an old foe that did you molest:
Better new friend then an old foe is said.
With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid
Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth, 240
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth. ?
XXVIII
Long time they thus together traveiled,
Till weary of their way, they came at last 245
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast,
And their greene leaves trembling with every blast,
Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:
The fearfull Shepheard often there aghast 250
Under them never sat, ne wont there sound?
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' unlucky ground.
XXIX
But this good knight soone as he them can spie,
For the cool shade?
him thither hastly got:
For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie, 255
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That living creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide 260
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
XXX
Faire seemely pleasaunce? each to other makes,
With goodly purposes? there as they sit:
And in his falsed fancy he her takes
To be the fairest wight that lived yit; 265
Which to expresse he bends his gentle wit,
And thinking of those braunches greene to frame
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough;? out of whose rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the same. 270
XXXI
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,
Crying, O spare with guilty hands? to teare
My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,
But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare
Least to you hap, that happened to me heare, 275
And to this wretched Lady, my deare love,
O too deare love, love bought with death too deare.
Astond he stood, and up his haire did hove,
And with that suddein horror could no member move.
XXXII
At last whenas the dreadfull passion 280
Was overpast, and manhood well awake,
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
What voyce of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,?
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire, 285
Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?
XXXIII
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,)
Nor guileful sprite to thee these wordes doth speake, 290
But once a man Fradubio,? now a tree,
Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake
A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,
Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, 295
And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:
For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.
XXXIV
Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,
Quoth then the knight, by whose mischievous arts
Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see? 300
He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;
But double griefs afflict concealing harts,
As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.
The author then (said he) of all my smarts,
Is one Duessa a false sorceresse, 305
That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.
Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,?
He that the wide West under his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.
XXIII
He in the first flowre of my freshest age,
Betrothed me unto the onely haire? 200
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was never Prince so faithfull and so faire,
Was never Prince so meeke and debonaire;
But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,
My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire 205
Into the hands of his accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine, that shall I ever mone.
XXIV
His blessed body spoild of lively breath,
Was afterward, I know not how, convaid
And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death 210
When tidings came to me, unhappy maid,
O how great sorrow my sad soule assaid.
Then forth I went his woefull corse to find,
And many yeares throughout the world I straid,
A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind 215
With love long time did languish as the striken hind.
XXV
At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin
To meete me wandring, who perforce me led
With him away, but yet could never win
The Fort, that Ladies hold in soveraigne dread; 220
There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,
Who whiles he livde, was called proud Sansfoy,
The eldest of three brethren, all three bred
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sansjoy;
And twixt them both was born the bloudy bold Sansloy. 225
XXVI
In this sad plight, friendlesse, unfortunate,
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you in pitty of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
He in great passion all this while did dwell, 230
More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
And said, Faire Lady hart of flint would rew
The undeserved woes and sorrowes which ye shew.
XXVII
Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, 235
Having both found a new friend you to aid,
And lost an old foe that did you molest:
Better new friend then an old foe is said.
With chaunge of cheare the seeming simple maid
Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth, 240
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty they say maketh derth. ?
XXVIII
Long time they thus together traveiled,
Till weary of their way, they came at last 245
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast,
And their greene leaves trembling with every blast,
Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:
The fearfull Shepheard often there aghast 250
Under them never sat, ne wont there sound?
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' unlucky ground.
XXIX
But this good knight soone as he them can spie,
For the cool shade?
him thither hastly got:
For golden Phoebus now ymounted hie, 255
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That living creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide 260
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
XXX
Faire seemely pleasaunce? each to other makes,
With goodly purposes? there as they sit:
And in his falsed fancy he her takes
To be the fairest wight that lived yit; 265
Which to expresse he bends his gentle wit,
And thinking of those braunches greene to frame
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough;? out of whose rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the same. 270
XXXI
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard,
Crying, O spare with guilty hands? to teare
My tender sides in this rough rynd embard,
But fly, ah fly far hence away, for feare
Least to you hap, that happened to me heare, 275
And to this wretched Lady, my deare love,
O too deare love, love bought with death too deare.
Astond he stood, and up his haire did hove,
And with that suddein horror could no member move.
XXXII
At last whenas the dreadfull passion 280
Was overpast, and manhood well awake,
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
What voyce of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,?
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire, 285
Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse bloud to spare?
XXXIII
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,)
Nor guileful sprite to thee these wordes doth speake, 290
But once a man Fradubio,? now a tree,
Wretched man, wretched tree; whose nature weake
A cruell witch her cursed will to wreake,
Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines,
Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, 295
And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines:
For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.
XXXIV
Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree,
Quoth then the knight, by whose mischievous arts
Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see? 300
He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts;
But double griefs afflict concealing harts,
As raging flames who striveth to suppresse.
The author then (said he) of all my smarts,
Is one Duessa a false sorceresse, 305
That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.
