His lords owne flesh.’ Therewith out of his hond
That vertuous steele he rudely snatcht away, 195
And Guyons shield about his wrest he bond;
So ready dight, fierce battaile to assay,
And match his brother proud in battailous aray.
XXIII
By this, that straunger knight in presence came,
And goodly salued them; who nought againe 200
Him answered, as courtesie became,
But with sterne lookes, and stomachous disdaine,
Gave signes of grudge and discontentment vaine:
Then, turning to the palmer, he gan spy
Where at his feet, with sorrowfull demayne 205
And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye,
In whose dead face he redd great magnanimity.
XXIV
Sayd he then to the palmer: ‘Reverend syre,
What great misfortune hath betidd this knight?
Or did his life her fatall date expyre, 210
Or did he fall by treason, or by fight?
How ever, sure I rew his pitteous plight.’
‘Not one, nor other,’ sayd the palmer grave,
‘Hath him befalne; but cloudes of deadly night
A while his heavy eylids cover’d have, 215
And all his sences drowned in deep sencelesse wave.
XXV
‘Which those his cruell foes, that stand hereby,
Making advauntage, to revenge their spight,
Would him disarme and treaten shamefully;
Unworthie usage of redoubted knight. 220
But you, faire sir, whose honourable sight
Doth promise hope of helpe and timely grace,
Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight,
And by your powre protect his feeble cace.
First prayse of knighthood is, fowle outrage to deface.’ 225
XXVI
‘Palmer,’ said he, ‘no knight so rude, I weene,
As to doen outrage to a sleeping ghost:
Ne was there ever noble corage seene,
That in advauntage would his puissaunce bost:
Honour is least, where oddes appeareth most. 230
May bee, that better reason will aswage
The rash revengers heat. Words well dispost
Have secrete powre t’ appease inflamed rage:
If not, leave unto me thy knights last patronage.’
XXVII
Tho, turning to those brethren, thus bespoke: 235
‘Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might,
It seemes, just wronges to vengeaunce doe provoke,
To wreake your wrath on this dead seeming knight,
Mote ought allay the storme of your despight,
And settle patience in so furious heat? 240
Not to debate the chalenge of your right,
But for this carkas pardon I entreat,
Whom fortune hath already laid in lowest seat.’
XXVIII
To whom Cymochles said: ‘For what art thou,
That mak’st thy selfe his dayes-man, to prolong 245
The vengeaunce prest? Or who shall let me now,
On this vile body from to wreak my wrong,
And make his carkas as the outcast dong?
Why should not that dead carrion satisfye
The guilt which, if he lived had thus long, 250
His life for dew revenge should deare abye?
The trespas still doth live, albee the person dye.’
XXIX
‘Indeed,’ then said the Prince, ‘the evill donne
Dyes not, when breath the body first doth leave,
But from the grandsyre to the nephewes sonne, 255
And all his seede, the curse doth often cleave,
Till vengeaunce utterly the guilt bereave:
So streightly God doth judge. But gentle knight,
That doth against the dead his hand upheave,
His honour staines with rancour and despight, 260
And great disparagment makes to his former might.’
XXX
Pyrochles gan reply the second tyme,
And to him said: ‘Now, felon, sure I read,
How that thou art partaker of his cryme:
Therefore by Termagaunt thou shalt be dead.’ 265
With that, his hand, more sad then lomp of lead,
Uplifting high, he weened with Morddure,
His owne good sword Morddure, to cleave his head.
The faithfull steele such treason no’uld endure,
But swarving from the marke, his lordes life did assure. 270
XXXI
Yet was the force so furious and so fell,
That horse and man it made to reele asyde:
For well of yore he learned had to ryde,
But full of anger fiersly to him cryde: 275
‘False traitour miscreaunt! thou broken hast
The law of armes, to strike foe undefide.
But thou thy treasons fruit, I hope, shalt taste
Right sowre, and feele the law, the which thou hast defast.’
XXXII
With that, his balefull speare he fiercely bent 280
Against the Pagans brest, and therewith thought
His cursed life out of her lodg have rent:
But ere the point arrivd where it ought,
That seven fold shield, which he from Guyon brought,
He cast between to ward the bitter stownd: 285
Through all those foldes the steelehead passage wrought,
And through his shoulder perst; wherwith to ground
He groveling fell, all gored in his gushing wound.
XXXIII
Which when his brother saw, fraught with great griefe
And wrath, he to him leaped furiously, 290
And fowly saide. ‘By Mahoune, cursed thiefe,
That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt aby.’
Then, hurling up his harmefull blade on hy,
Smote him so hugely on his haughtie crest,
That from his saddle forced him to fly: 295
Els mote it needes downe to his manly brest
Have cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dispossest.
XXXIV
Now was the Prince in daungerous distresse,
Wanting his sword, when he on foot should fight:
His single speare could doe him small redresse 300
Against two foes of so exceeding might,
The least of which was match for any knight.
And now the other, whom he earst did daunt,
Had reard him selfe againe to cruel fight,
Three times more furious and more puissaunt, 305
Unmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignoraunt.
XXXV
So both attonce him charge on either syde,
With hideous strokes and importable powre,
That forced him his ground to traverse wyde,
And wisely watch to ward that deadly stowre: 310
For in his shield, as thicke as stormie showre,
Their strokes did raine; yet did he never quaile,
Ne backward shrinke, but as a stedfast towre,
Whom foe with double battry doth assaile,
Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids them nought availe, — 315
XXXVI
So stoutly he withstood their strong assay;
Till that at last, when he advantage spyde,
His poynant speare he thrust with puissant sway
At proud Cymochles, whiles his shield was wyde,
That through his thigh the mortall steele did gryde: 320
He, swarving with the force, within his flesh
Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde:
Out of the wound the red blood flowed fresh,
That underneath his feet soone made a purple plesh.
XXXVII
Horribly then he gan to rage and rayle, 325
Cursing his gods, and him selfe damning deepe:
Als when his brother saw the red blood rayle
Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe,
For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe,
And said: ‘Caytive, cursse on thy cruell hond, 330
That twise hath spedd! yet shall it not thee keepe
From the third brunt of this my fatall brond:
Lo where the dreadfull Death behynd thy backe doth stond!’
XXXVIII
With that he strooke, and thother strooke withall,
That nothing seemd mote beare so monstrous might: 335
The one upon his covered shield did fall,
And glauncing downe would not his owner byte:
But th’ other did upon his troncheon smyte,
Which hewing quite a sunder, further way
It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte, 340
The which dividing with importune sway,
It seizd in his right side, and there the dint did stay.
XXXIX
Wyde was the wound, and a large lukewarme flood,
Red as the rose, thence gushed grievously,
That when the Paynym spyde the streaming blood, 345
Gave him great hart, and hope of victory.
On thother side, in huge perplexity
The Prince now stood, having his weapon broke;
Nought could he hurt, but still at warde did ly:
Yet with his troncheon he so rudely stroke 350
Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his foot revoke.
XL
Whom when the palmer saw in such distresse,
Sir Guyons sword he lightly to him raught,
And said: ‘Fayre sonne, great God thy right hand blesse,
To use that sword so well as he it ought.’ 355
Glad was the knight, and with fresh courage fraught,
When as againe he armed felt his hond:
Then like a lyon, which hath long time saught
His robbed whelpes, and at the last them fond
Emongst the shepeheard swaynes, then wexeth wood and yond; 360
XLI
So fierce he laid about him, and dealt blowes
On either side, that neither mayle could hold,
Ne shield defend the thunder of his throwes:
Now to Pyrochles many strokes he told;
Eft to Cymochles twise so many fold: 365
Then backe againe turning his busie hond,
Them both atonce compeld with courage bold,
To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling brond;
And though they both stood stiffe, yet could not both withstond.
XLII
As salvage bull, whom two fierce mastives bayt, 370
When rancour doth with rage him once engore,
Forgets with wary warde them to awayt,
But with his dreadfull hornes them drives afore,
Or flings aloft, or treades downe in the flore,
Breathing out wrath, and bellowing disdaine, 375
That all the forest quakes to heare him rore:
So rag’d Prince Arthur twixt his foemen twaine,
That neither could his mightie puissaunce sustaine.
XLIII
But ever at Pyrochles when he smitt,
Who Guyons shield cast ever him before, 380
Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was writt,
His hand relented, and the stroke forbore,
And his deare hart the picture gan adore;
Which oft the Paynim sav’d from deadly stowre.
But him henceforth the same can save no more; 385
For now arrived is his fatall howre,
That no’te avoyded be by earthly skill or powre.
XLIV
For when Cymochles saw the fowle reproch,
Which them appeached, prickt with guiltie shame
And inward griefe, he fiercely gan approch, 390
Resolv’d to put away that loathly blame,
Or dye with honour and desert of fame;
And on the haubergh stroke the Prince so sore,
That quite disparted all the linked frame,
And pierced to the skin, but bit no more, 395
Yet made him twise to reele, that never moov’d afore.
XLV
Whereat renfierst with wrath and sharp regret,
He stroke so hugely with his borrowd blade,
That it empierst the Pagans burganet,
And cleaving the hard steele, did deepe invade 400
Into his head, and cruell passage made
Quite through his brayne. He, tombling downe on ground,
Breathd out his ghost, which, to th’ infernall shade
Fast flying, there eternall torment found
For all the sinnes wherewith his lewd life did abound. 405
XLVI
Which when his german saw, the stony feare
Ran to his hart, and all his sence dismayd,
Ne thenceforth life ne corage did appeare;
But as a man, whom hellish feendes have frayd,
Long trembling still he stoode: at last thus sayd: 410
‘Traytour, what hast hou doen? How ever may
Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayd
Against that knight? Harrow and well away!
After so wicked deede why liv’st thou lenger day?’
XLVII
With that all desperate, as loathing light, 415
And with revenge desyring soone to dye,
Assembling all his force and utmost might,
With his owne swerd he fierce at him did flye,
And strooke, and foynd, and lasht outrageously,
Withouten reason or regard. Well knew 420
The Prince, with pacience and sufferaunce sly
So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew:
Tho, when this breathlesse woxe, that batteil gan renew.
XLVIII
As when a windy tempest bloweth hye,
That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre, 425
The clowdes, as thinges affrayd, before him flye;
But all so soone as his outrageous powre
Is layd, they fiercely then begin to showre,
And, as in scorne of his spent stormy spight,
Now all attonce their malice forth do poure: 430
So did Prince Arthur beare himselfe in fight,
And suffred rash Pyrochles waste his ydle might.
XLIX
At last when as the Sarazin perceiv’d,
How that straunge sword refusd to serve his neede,
But, when he stroke most strong, the dint deceiv’d, 435
He flong it from him, and, devoyd of dreed,
Upon him lightly leaping without heed,
Twixt his two mighty armes engrasped fast,
Thinking to overthrowe and downe him tred:
But him in strength and skill and Prince surpast, 440
And through his nimble sleight did under him down cast.
L
Nought booted it the Paynim then to strive;
For as a bittur in the eagles clawe,
That may not hope by flight to scape alive,
Still waytes for death with dread and trembling aw, 445
So he, now subject to the victours law,
Did not once move, nor upward cast his eye,
For vile disdaine and rancour, which did gnaw
His hart in twaine with sad melancholy,
As one that loathed life, and yet despysd to dye. 450
LI
But full of princely bounty and great mind,
The conquerour nought cared him to slay,
But casting wronges and all revenge behind,
More glory thought to give life then decay,
And sayd: ‘Paynim, this is thy dismall day; 455
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce,
And my trew liegeman yield thy selfe for ay,
Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce,
And all thy wronges will wipe out of my sovenaunce.’
LII
‘Foole!’ sayd the Pagan, ‘I thy gift defye; 460
But use thy fortune, as it doth befall,
And say, that I not overcome doe dye,
But in despight of life for death doe call.’
Wroth was the Prince, and sory yet withall,
That he so wilfully refused grace; 465
Yet, sith his fate so cruelly did fall,
His shining helmet he gan soone unlace,
And left his headlesse body bleeding all the place.
LIII
By this, Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt,
Life having maystered her sencelesse foe; 470
And looking up, when as his shield he lakt,
And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous woe:
But when the palmer, whom he long ygoe
Had lost, he by him spyde, right glad he grew,
And saide: ‘Deare sir, whom wandring to and fro 475
I long have lackt, I joy thy face to vew:
Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never fro me drew.
LIV
‘But read, what wicked hand hath robbed mee
Of my good sword and shield?’ The palmer, glad
With so fresh hew uprysing him to see, 480
Him answered: ‘Fayre sonne, be no whit sad
For want of weapons; they shall soone be had.’
So gan he to discourse the whole debate,
Which that straunge knight for him sustained had,
And those two Sarazins confounded late, 485
Whose carcases on ground were horribly prostrate.
LV
Which when he heard, and saw the tokens trew,
His hart with great affection was embayd,
And to the Prince bowing with reverence dew,
As to the patrone of his life, thus sayd: 490
‘My lord, my liege, by whose most gratious ayd
I live this day, and see my foes subdewd,
What may suffise to be for meede repayd
Of so great graces as ye have me shewd,
But to be ever bound—’ 495
LVI
To whom the infant thus: ‘Fayre sir, what need
Good turnes be counted, as a servile bond,
To bind their dooers to receive their meed?
Are not all knightes by oath bound to withstond
Oppressours powre by armes and puissant hond? 500
Suffise, that i have done my dew in place.’
So goodly purpose they together fond
Of kindnesse and of courteous aggrace;
The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled aopace.
Faerie Queene Detailed Table of Contents
Glossary for ‘The Faerie Queene’
Canto IX
The House of Temperance, in which