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XXI

Now when broad day the world discovered has,
Up Una rose, up rose the Lyon eke,
And on their former journey forward pas,
In wayes unknowne, her wandring knight to seeke,
With paines farre passing that long wandring Greeke,? 185
That for his love refused deitie;
Such were the labours of his Lady meeke,
Still seeking him, that from her still did flie;
Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.

XXII

Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull twaine, 190
That blind old woman and her daughter deare,?
Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slaine,
For anguish great they gan to rend their heare,
And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare.
And when they both had wept and wayld their fill, 195
Then forth they ran like two amazed deare,
Halfe mad through malice, and revenging will,
To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.

XXIII

Whom overtaking, they gan loudly bray,
With hollow howling, and lamenting cry, 200
Shamefully at her rayling all the way,
And her accusing of dishonesty,
That was the flowre of faith and chastity;
And still amidst her rayling, she did pray,
That plagues, and mischiefs, and long misery 205
Might fall on her, and follow all the way,
And that in endlesse error she might ever stray.

XXIV

But when she saw her prayers nought prevaile,
She backe returned with some labour lost;
And in the way as shee did weepe and waile, 210
A knight her met in mighty armes embost,
Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost,
But subtill Archimag, that Una sought
By traynes into new troubles to have tost:
Of that old woman tidings he besought, 215
If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought.

XXV

Therewith she gan her passion to renew,
And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,
Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,
That caused her shed so many a bitter teare, 220
And so forth told the story of her feare:
Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce,
And after for that Ladie did inquere;
Which being taught, he forward gan advaunce
His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce. 225

XXVI

Ere long he came where Una traveild slow,
And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde:
Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show
Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde
Unto an hill; from whence when she him spyde, 230
By his like seeming shield, her knight by name
She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:
Approaching nigh, she wist it was the same,
And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came:

XXVII

And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord, 235
Where have ye bene thus long out of my sight?
Much feared I to have bene quite abhord,
Or ought have done,? that ye displeasen might,
That should as death? unto my deare heart light:
For since mine eye your joyous sight did mis, 240
My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night,
And eke my night of death the shadow is;
But welcome now my light, and shining lampe of blis.

XXVIII

He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame,
Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will, 245
To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame,
As you to leave, that have me loved still,
And chose in Faery court? of meere goodwill,
Where noblest knights were to be found on earth:
The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skill,? 250
To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,
Then I leave you, my liefe, yborne of heavenly berth.
XXIX

And sooth to say, why I left you so long,
Was for to seeke adventure in strange place,
Where Archimago said a felon strong 255
To many knights did daily worke disgrace;
But knight he now shall never more deface:
Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please
Well to accept, and evermore embrace
My faithfull service, that by land and seas 260
Have vowd you to defend: now then your plaint appease.

XXX

His lovely words her seemd due recompence
Of all her passed paines: one loving howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre: 265
She has forgot, how many a woful stowre
For him she late endurd; she speakes no more
Of past: true is, that true love hath no powre
To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before.
Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore. 270

XXXI

Much like, as when the beaten marinere,
That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide,
Oft soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare,
And long time having tand his tawney hide
With blustring breath of heaven, that none can bide, 275
And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound,?
Soone as the port from farre he has espide,
His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound,
And Nereus crownes with cups? ; his mates him pledg around.

XXXII

Such joy made Una, when her knight she found; 280
And eke th' enchaunter joyous seemd no lesse,
Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground?
His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse,
He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse:
So forth they past, and all the way they spent 285
Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse,
In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment:
Who told her all that fell in journey as she went.

XXXIII

They had not ridden farre, when they might see
One pricking towards them with hastie heat, 290
Full strongly armd, and on a courser free,
That through his fiercenesse fomed all with sweat,
And the sharpe yron did for anger eat,
When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side;
His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat 295
Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde,
And on his shield _Sans loy_? in bloudie lines was dyde.

XXXIV

When nigh he drew unto this gentle payre
And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare,
He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones prepare 300
Himselfe to battell with his couched speare.
Loth was that other, and did faint through feare,
To taste th' untryed dint of deadly steele;
But yet his Lady did so well him cheare,
That hope of new goodhap he gan to feele; 305
So bent his speare, and spurd his horse with yron heele.

XXXV

But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce,
And full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare,
Through vainly crossed shield? he quite did pierce,
And had his staggering steede not shrunke for feare, 310
Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare:
Yet so great was the puissance of his push,
That from his saddle quite he did him beare:
He tombling rudely downe to ground did rush,
And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush. 315

XXXVI

Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed,
He to him lept, in mind to reave his life,
And proudly said, Lo there the worthie meed
Of him that slew Sansfoy with bloudie knife;
Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife, 320
In peace may passen over Lethe lake,?
When mourning altars purgd with enemies life,
The blacke infernall Furies?