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XXIII

And him before, I saw with bitter eyes
The bold Sansfoy shrinke underneath his speare; 200
And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,
Nor wayld of friends, nor layd on groning beare,?
That whylome was to me too dearely deare.
O what of Gods? then boots it to be borne,
If old Aveugles sonnes so evill heare? 205
Or who shall not great Nightes children scorne,
When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne?

XXIV

Up then, up dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene,
Go gather up the reliques of thy race,
Or else goe them avenge, and let be seene, 210
That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place,
And can the children of faire light deface.
Her feeling speeches some compassion moved
In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:
Yet pittie in her hart was never proved 215
Till then: for evermore she hated, never loved.

XXV

And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew
The fall of famous children borne of mee,
And good successes,? which their foes ensew:
But who can turne the streame of destinee, 220
Or breake the chayne? of strong necessitee,
Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat?
The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see,
And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:
To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat. ? 225

XXVI

Yet shall they not escape so freely all;
For some shall pay the price of others guilt:
And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall,
Shall with his owne bloud? price that he has spilt.
But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?
230
I that do seeme not I, Duessa am,
(Quoth she) how ever now in garments gilt,
And gorgeous gold arrayd I to thee came;
Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.

XXVII

Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist 235
The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face
The false resemblance of Deceipt I wist
Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace
It carried, that I scarce in darkesome place
Could it discerne, though I the mother bee 240
Of falshood, and roote of Duessaes race.
O welcome child, whom I have longd to see,
And now have seene unwares. Lo now I go with thee.

XXVIII

Then to her yron wagon she betakes,
And with her beares the fowle welfavourd witch: 245
Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes.
Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,
And two were browne, yet each to each unlich,
Did softly swim away, ne ever stampe,
Unlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch; 250
Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,
And trampling the fine element would fiercely rampe.

XXIX

So well they sped, that they be come at length
Unto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,
Devoid of outward sense, and native strength, 255
Coverd with charmed cloud from vew of day
And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray.
His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congeald
They binden up so wisely, as they may,
And handle softly, till they can be healed: 260
So lay him in her charet close in night concealed.

XXX

And all the while she stood upon the ground,
The wakefull dogs did never cease to bay,?
As giving warning of th' unwonted sound,
With which her yron wheeles did them affray, 265
And her darke griesly looke them much dismay:
The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle?
With drery shriekes did also her bewray;
And hungry Wolves continually did howle,
At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle. 270

XXXI

Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole,
And brought the heavie corse with easie pace
To yawning gulfe of deepe Avernus hole. ?
By that same hole an entrance darke and bace
With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place, 275
Descends to hell: there creature never past,
That backe returned without heavenly grace;
But dreadfull Furies which their chaines have brast,
And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men aghast.

XXXII

By that same way the direfull dames doe drive 280
Their mournefull charet, fild with rusty blood,
And downe to Plutoes house are come bilive:
Which passing through, on every side them stood
The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,
Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide 285
With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood
Of feends infernall flockt on every side,
To gaze on earthly wight that with the Night durst ride.

XXXIII

They pas the bitter waves of Acheron,
Where many soules sit wailing woefully, 290
And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,
Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry,
And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry,
Cursing high Jove, the which them thither sent.