The lady, when she saw her champion fall,
Like the old ruins of a broken tower,
Staid not to wail his woeful funeral;
But from him fled away with all her power:
Who after her as hastily gan scour,
Bidding the dwarf with him to bring away
The Saracen's shield, sign of the conqueror :
Her soon he overtook, and bad to stay;
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.
She turning back, with rueful countenance,
Cried, "Mercy, mercy, sir, vouchsafe to show
On silly dame, subject to hard mischance,
And to your mighty will." Her humbless low
In so rich weeds, and seeming glorious show,
Did much emmove his stout heroick heart;
And said, "Dear dame, your sudden overthrow
Much rueth me; but now put fear apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that took your part.”
Melting in tears, then gan she thus lament;
"The wretched woman, whom unhappy hour
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heavens list to lower,
And fortune false betray'd me to your power,
Was (O what now availeth that I was!)
Borne the sole daughter of an emperor ;
He that the wide west under his rule has,
And high hath set his throne where Tiberis doth pass.
He, in the first flower of my
Betrothed me unto the only heir
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was never prince so faithful and so fair,
Was never prince so meek and debonair!
But, ere my hoped day of spousal shone,
My dearest lord fell from high honor's stair
Into the hands of his accursed fone,*
And cruelly was slain; that shall I ever moan!
"His blessed body, spoild of lively breath,
Was afterward, I know not how, convey'd,
And from me hid; of whose most innocent death
When tidings came to me, unhappy maid,
O, how great sorrow my sad soul assay'd!
Then forth I went his woful corse to find,
And many years throughout the world I stray'd,
A virgin widow; whose deep-wounded mind
With love long time did languish, as the stricken hind.
"In this sad plight, friendless, unfortunate,
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Craving of you, in pity of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well."
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quick eyes, her face to view,
Than his dull ears, to hear what she did tell;
And said, "Fair lady, heart of flint would rue
The undeserved woes and sorrows, which ye shew.
"Henceforth in safe assurance may ye rest,
Having both found a new friend you to aid,
And lost an old foe that did you molest:
Better new friend than old foe it is said."
With change of cheer the seeming-simple maid
Let fall her eyes, as shamefast, to the earth,
And yielding soft, in that she nought gainsaid.
So forth they rode, he feigning seemly mirth,
And she coy looks: so dainty, they say, maketh dearth.
Long time they thus together travelled;
Till weary of their way, they came at last
Where grew two goodly trees, that fair did spread
Their arms abroad, with gray moss overcast ;
And their green leaves, trembling with every blast,
Made a calm shadow far in compass round:
The fearful shepherd, often there aghast,
Under them never sat, nor wont there sound
His merry oaten pipe; but shun'd th' unlucky ground.
But this good knight, soon as he them can spy
For the cool shade him thither hast❜ly got ;
For golden Phoebus, now ymounted high,
From fiery wheels of his fair chariot
Hurled his beam so scorching cruel hot,
That living creature might it not abide ;
And his new lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselves to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
Fair-seemly pleasance 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 yet;
Which to express, he bends his gentle wit;
And, thinking of those branches green to frame
A garland for her dainty forehead fit,
He pluckt a bough; out of whose rift there came*
Small drops of gory blood, that trickled down the same.
* See the Gerusalemme Liberata, Canto xiii., st. 41.
"Pur tragge al fin la spada, e con gran forza
Percote l'alta pianta. Oh meraviglia!
Manda fuor sangue la recisa scorza,
E fa la terra intorno a se vermiglia,
Tutto si raccapriccia; e pur rinforza
Il colpo, e'l fin vederne ei si consiglia.
Allor, quasi di tomba, uscir ne sente
Un indistinto gemito dolente,
"Che poi distinto in voce: Ahi troppo (disse), &c.
He drew his blade at length, and with a bound
Struck at the towering tree: Oh, marvel sore;
Blood followed, from the bark, the gaping wound,
And dyed the verdant turf beneath with gore;
His hair on end, he boldly struck once more,
Resolved the depths of this foul spell to sound,
When from the tree as from some hollow tomb,
A groaning murmur issued through the gloom,
Then words distinctly uttered; "Ah forbear!"
So spake the voice; &c.
Therewith a piteous yelling voice was heard,
Crying, "O spare with guilty hands to tear
My tender sides in this rough rind embarr'd;
But fly, ah! fly far hence away, for fear
Lest to you hap, that happened to me here,
And to this wretched lady, my dear love;
O too dear love, love bought with death too dear !"
Astound he stood, and up his hair did hove:
And with that sudden horror could no member move.
At last whenas the dreadful passion
Was overpast, and manhood well awake;
Yet musing at the strange occasion
And doubting much his sense, he thus bespake:
"What voice of damned ghost from Limbo lake,
Or guileful spright wandring in empty air
(Both which frail men do oftentimes mistake),
Sends to my doubtful ears these speeches rare,
And rueful plaints, me bidding guiltless blood to spare?"
Then, groaning deep; "Nor damned ghost," quoth he, "Nor guileful sprite, to thee these words doth speak; But once a man Fradubio, now a tree;
Wretched man, wretched tree! whose nature weak
A cruel witch, her cursed will to wreak
Hath thus transformd, and plac'd in open plains,
Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleak,
And scorching sun does dry my secret veins;
For though a tree I seem, yet cold and heat me pains."
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