Whom when Pyrochles saw, inflam'd with rage
That sire he fowl bespake; "Thou dotard vile,
That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely age,
Abandon soone, I read, the caytive spoile
Of that same outcast carcas, that erewhile
Made itselfe famous through false trechery,
And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile;
Loe! where he now inglorious doth lye,

To proove he lived il, that did thus fowly dye."
To whom the palmer fearelesse answered;
"Certes, sir Knight, ye bene too much to blame,
Thus for to blott the honor of the dead,
And with fowle cowardize his carcas shame

Whose living handes immortalizd his name.
Vile is the vengeaunce on the ashes cold;
And envy base to barke at sleeping fame:
Was never wight that treason of him told:
Yourselfe his prowesse prov'd, and found him fiers
and bold."

Then sayd Cymochles; "Palmer, thou doest dote,
Ne canst of prowesse ne of knighthood deeme,
Save as thou seest or hearst: but well I wote,
That of his puissaunce tryall made extreeme :
Yet gold all is not that doth golden seeme;
Ne al good knights that shake well speare and shield:
The worth of all men by their end esteeme;
And then dew praise or dew reproch them yield:
Bad therefore I him deeme that thus lies dead on
field."

"Good or bad," gan his brother fiers reply,
"What do I recke, sith that he dide entire?
Or what doth his bad death now satisfy
The greedy hunger of revenging yre,

Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne desire?
Yet, since no way is lefte to wreake my spight,
I will him reave of armes, the victors hire,
And of that shield, more worthy of good knight;
For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour
bright?"

"Fayr sir," said then the palmer suppliaunt,
"For knighthoods love doe not so fowle a deed,
Ne blame your honor with so shamefull vaunt
Of vile revenge: to spoile the dead of weed
Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed :
But leave these relicks of his living might
To decke his herce, and trap his tomb-blacke steed."
"What herce or steed," said he, "should he have

dight,

But be entombed in the raven or the kight?"
With that, rude hand upon his shield he laid,
And th' other brother gan his helme unlace;
Both fiercely bent to have him disaraid:
Till that they spyde where towards them did pace
An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace,
Whose squire bore after him an heben launce
And coverd shield: well kend him so far space
When under him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce;
Th' enchaunter by his armes and amenaunce,

And to those brethren sayd; "Rise, rise bylive,
And unto batteil doe yourselves addresse;
For yonder comes the prowest knight alive,
Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobilesse,
That hath to Paynim knights wrought gret distresse,
And thousand Sar'zins fowly donne to dye."
That word so deepe did in their harts impresse,
That both eftsoones upstarted furiously,
And gan themselves prepare to batteill greedily.

But fiers Pyrochles, lacking his owne sword,
The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine,
And Archimage besought, him that afford
Which he had brought for Bragadocchio vaine.
"So would I," said th' enchaunter, "glad and faine
Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend,
Or ought that els your honour might maintaine`;
But that this weapons powre I well have kend
To be contrary to the worke which ye intend:

"For that same knights owne sword this-is, of yore
Which Merlin made by his almightie art
For that his noursling, when he knighthood swore,
Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart.
The metall first he mixt with medæwart,
That no enchauntment from his dint might save;
Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart,
And seven times dipped in the bitter wave
Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it gave.

"The vertue is, that nether steele nor stone
The stroke thereof from entraunce may defend;
Ne ever may be used by his fone;
Ne forst his rightful owner to offend;
Ne ever will it breake, ne ever bend;
Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight.
In vaine therefore, Pyrochles, should I lend
The same to thee, against his lord to fight;
For sure yt would deceive thy labour and thy might."

"Foolish old man," said then the Pagan, wroth,
"That weenest words or charms may force with-
stond:

Soone shalt thou see, and then beleeve for troth,
That I can carve with this inchaunted brond
His lords owne flesh." Therewith out of his hond
That vertuous steele he rudely snatcht away;
And Guoyns shield about his wrest he bond:
So ready dight, fierce battaile to assay,
And match his brother proud in battailous aray.

By this, that straunger knight in presence came,
And goodly salved them; who nought againe
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
And deadly hew an armed corse did lye,
In whose dead face he redd great magnanimity.

Sayd he then to the palmer; "Reverend syre,
What great misfortune hath betidd this knight?
Or did his life her fatall date expyre,
Or did he fall by treason, or by fight?
However, sure I rew his pitteous plight."
"Not one, nor other," sayd the palmer grave,
"Hath him befalne; but cloudes of deadly night
Awhile his heavy eylids cover'd have,

And all his sences drowned in deep sencelesse wave:

"Which those his cruell foes, that stand hereby,
Making advantage, to revenge their spight,
Would him disarme and treaten shamefully;
Unworthie usage of redoubted knight!
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? [face."
First prayse of knighthood is, fowle outrage to de-

"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 puissance bost:
Honour is least, where oddes appeareth most.
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."

Tho, turning to those brethren, thus bespoke;
"Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might,
It seemes, iust 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 >
Not to debate the chalenge of your right,
But for his carkas pardon I entreat,
Whom fortune hath already laid in lowest seat."

To whom Cymochles said; "For what art thou,
That mak'st thyselfe his dayes-man, to prolong
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,
His life for dew revenge should deare abye?
The trespass still doth live, albee the person dye.”
"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
And all his seede the curse doth often cleave,
Till vengeaunce utterly the guilt bereave:
So streightly God doth iudge. But gentle knight,
That doth against the dead his hand upreare,
His honour staines with rancour and despight,
And great disparagment makes to his former might.”
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."
With that, his hand, more sad than 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.

Yet was the force so furious and so fell,
That horse and man it made to reele asyde:
Nath'lesse the prince would not forsake his sell,
(For well of yore he learned had to ryde)
But full of anger fiersly to him cryde;
"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."

With that his balefull speare he fiercely bent
Against the Pagans brest, and therewith thought
His cursed life out of her lodg have rent:
But, ere the point arrived where it ought,
That seven-fold shield which he from Guyon brought,
He cast between to ward the bitter stownd:
Through all those foldes the steelehead passage
wrought,

And through his shoulder perst; wherewith to ground
He groveling fell, all gored in his gushing wound.

Which when his brother saw, fraught with great
And wrath, he to him leaped furiously, [griefe
And fowly saide;" By Mahoune, cursed thiefe,
That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt aby."
Then, hurling up his harmefull blade on by,
Smote him so hugely on his haughtie crest,
That from his saddie forced him to fly:
Els mote it needes downe to his manly brest
Have cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dis-
possest.

Now was the prince in daungerous distresse,
Wanting his sword, when he on foot should fight:
His single speare could doe him small redresse
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 himselfe againe to cruel fight
Three times more furious and more puissaunt,
Unmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignoraunt.

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:
For on 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.

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:
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.
Horribly then he gan to rage and rayle,
Cursing his gods, and himselfe 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, curse on thy cruell hond,
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!"

With that he strooke, and th' other strooke withall,
That nothing seemd mote beare so monstrous might:
The one upon his covered shield did fall,
And glauncing downe would not his owner byte:
But th' other did upon his trencheon smyte;
Which hewing quite asunder, further way
It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte,
The which dividing with impórtune sway,
It seizd in his right side, and there the dint did stay.
Wyde was the wound, and a large lukewarme flood,
Red as the rose, thence gushed grievously;
That when the Paynym spyde the streaming blood,
Gave him great hart and hope of victory.
On th' other 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
Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his foot revoke.

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
To use that sword so well as he it ought!" [blesse,
Glad was the knight, and with fresh courage fraught,
When as againe he armed felt his hond:
Then like a lyon, which had long time saught
His robbed whelpes, and at the last them fond
Emongst the shepheard swaynes, then wexeth wood
and yond:

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;
Then, backe againe turning his busie hond,
Them both attonce compeld with courage bold
To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling brond;
And though they both stood stiffe, yet could not
both withstond.

As salvage bull, whom two fierce mastives bayt,
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,
That all the forest quakes to hear him rore:
So rag'd prince Arthur twixt his foemen twaine,
That neither could his mightie puissaunce sustaine.

But ever at Pyrochles when he smitt,
(Who Guyons shield cast ever him before,
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 benceforth the same can save no more;
For now arrived is his fatall howre,
That no'te avoyded be by earthly skill or powre.

For when Cymochles saw the fowle reproch,
Which them appeached; prickt with guiltie shame
And inward griefe, he fiercely gan approch,
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; [afore.
Yet made him twise to reele, that never moov'd
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
Into his head, and cruell passage made
Quite through his brayne: he, tombling downe on

ground,

Breath'd out his ghost, which, to th' infernall shade
Fast flying, there eternall torment found
For all the sinnes wherewith his lewd life did abound.
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;
"Traytour, what hast thou 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!"

With that all desperate, as loathing light,
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
The prince, with pacience and sufferaunce sly,
So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew; [renew.
Tho, when this breathlesse woxe, that batteil gan

As when a windy tempest bloweth hye,
That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre,
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:
So did prince Arthur beare himselfe in fight,
And suffred rash Pyrochles waste his ydle might.

At last whenas the Sarazin perceiv'd

How that straunge sword refusd to serve his neede,
But, when he stroke most strong, the dint deceiv'd;
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 the prince surpast,
And through his nimble sleight did under him down
cast.

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;
So he, now subiect 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.

But, full of princely bounty and great mind,
The conqueror 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;
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce,
And my trew liegeman yield thyselfe for ay,
Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce, [naunce."
And all thy wronges will wipe out of my sove-

"Foole," sayd the Pagan, "I thy gift defye;
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;
Yet, sith his fate so cruelly did fall,
His shining helmet he gan soone unlace,

And left his headlesse body bleeding all the place.

By this, sir Guyon from his traunce awakt,
Life having maystered her sencelesse foe;
And looking up, whenas 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
I long have lackt, I ioy thy face to vew! [drew.
Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never fro me

The House of Temperaunce, in which
Doth sober Alma dwell,

Besiegd of many foes, whom straung

er knightes to flight compell.

Or all Gods workes, which doe this worlde adorne,
There is no one more faire and excellent
Then is mans body, both for powre and forme,
Whiles it is kept in sober government;

But none then it more fowle and indecent,
Distempred through misrule and passions bace;
It grows a monster, and incontinent
Doth lose his dignity and native grace:
Behold, who list, both one and other in this place.

After the Paynim brethren conquer'd were,
The Briton prince recov'ring his stolne sword,
And Guyon his lost shield, they both yfere
Forth passed on their way in fayre accord,
Till him the prince with gentle court did bord;
"Sir Knight, mote I of you this court'sy read,
To weet why on your shield, so goodly scord,
Beare ye the picture of that ladies head?
Full lively is the semblaunt, though the substance
dead."

"Fayre sir," sayd he, "if in that picture dead
Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine shew;
What mote ye weene, if the trew lively-head
Of that most glorious visage ye did vew!
But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew,
That is, her bounty, and imperiall powre,
Thousand times fairer then her mortall hew,
O! how great wonder would your thoughts devoure,
And infinite desire into your spirite poure!

"She is the mighty queene of Faery,
Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe beare;
Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity,
Throughout the world renowmed far and neare,
My life, my liege, my soveraine, my deare,
Whose glory shineth as the morning starre,
And with her light the Earth enlumines cleare;
Far reach her mercies, and her praises farre,
As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in warre."

"Thrise happy man," said then the Briton knight,
"Whom gracious lott and thy great valiaunce
Have made thee soldier of that princesse bright,
Which with her bounty and glad countenaunce
Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high advaunce!
How may straunge knight hope ever to aspire,
By faithfull service and meete amenaunce,
Unto such blisse? sufficient were that hire
For losse of thousand lives, to die at her desire."

Said Guyon, "Noble lord, what meed so great,
Or grace of earthly prince so soveraine,
But by your wondrous worth and warlike feat
Ye well may hope, and easely attaine?
But were your will her sold to entertaine,
And numbred be mongst knights of Maydenhed,
Great guerdon, well I wote, should you remaine,
And in her favor high be reckoned,

As Arthegall and Sophy now beene honored."

"Certes," then said the prince, "I God avow,
That sith I armes and knighthood first did plight,
My whole desire hath beene, and yet is now,
To serve that queene with al my powre and might.
Now hath the Sunne with his lamp-burning light
Walkt round about the world, and I no lesse,
Sith of that goddesse I have sought the sight,
Yet no where can her find: such happinesse
Heven doth to me envy and fortune favourlesse."

"Fortune, the foe of famous chevisaunce,
Seldom," said Guyon, " yields to vertue aide,
But in her way throwes mischiefe and mischaunce,
Whereby her course is stopt and passage staid.
But you, faire sir, be not here with dismaid,
But constant keepe the way in which ye stand;
Which were it not that I am els delaid
With hard adventure, which I have in hand,
I labour would to guide you through al Fary land."

"Gramercy sir," said he; "but mote I weete
What straunge adventure doe ye now pursew?
Perhaps my succour or advizement meete
Mote stead you much your purpose to subdew."
Then gan sir Guyon all the story shew
Of false Acrasia, and her wicked wiles;
Which to avenge, the palmer him forth drew
From Faery court. So talked they, the whiles
They wasted had much way, and measurd many

miles.

And now faire Phoebus gan decline in haste
His weary wagon to the westerne vale,
Whenas they spide a goodly castle, plaste
Foreby a river in a pleasaunt dale;
Which choosing for that evenings hospitale,
They thether marcht: but when they came in sight,
And from their sweaty coursers did avale,
They found the gates fast barred long ere night,
And every loup fast lockt, as fearing foes despight.

Which when they saw, they weened fowle reproch
Was to them doen, their entraunce to forstall;
Till that the squire gan nigher to approch,
And wind his horne under the castle wall,
That with the noise it shooke as it would fall.
Estsoones forth looked from the highest spire
The watch, and lowd unto the knights did call,
To weete what they so rudely did require:
Who gently answered, They entraunce did desire.
"Fly fly, good knights," said he, "fly fast away,
If that your lives ye love, as meete ye should;
Fly fast, and save yourselves from neare decay;
Here may ye not have entraunce, though we would:
We would and would againe, if that we could;
But thousand enemies about us rave,

And with long siege us in this castle hould:
Seven yeares this wize they us besieged have,
And many good knights slaine that have us sought
to save."

Thus as he spoke, loe! with outragious cry
A thousand villeins rownd about them swarmd
Out of the rockes and caves adioyning nye;
Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, deformd,
All threatning death, all in straunge manner armd;
Some with unweldy clubs, some with long speares,
Some rusty knives, some staves in fier warmd:
Sterne was their looke; like wild amazed steares,
Staring with hollow eies, and stiffe upstanding heares.
Fiersly at first those knights they did assayle,
And drove them to recoile: but, when againe
They gave fresh charge, their forces gan to fayle,
Unhable their encounter to sustaine;

For with such puissaunce and impetuous maine.
Those champions broke on them, that forst them fly,
Like scattered sheepe, whenas the shepherds swaine
A lion and a tigre doth espye

With greedy pace forth rushing from the forest nye.

A while they fled, but soone retournd againe
With greater fury then before was found;
And evermore their cruell capitaine
Sought with his raskall routs t' enclose them rownd,
And overronne to tread them to the grownd:
But soone the knights with their bright-burning
blades

Broke their rude troupes, and orders did confownd,
Hewing and slashing at their idle shades;
For though they bodies seem, yet substaunce from
them fades.

As when a swarme of gnats at eventide
Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise,
Their murmuring small trompetts sownden wide,
Whiles in the aire their clustring army flies,
That as a cloud doth seeme to dim the skies;
Ne man nor beast may rest or take repast
For their sharpe wounds and noyous injuries,
Till the fierce northerne wind with blustring blast
Doth blow them quite away, and in the ocean cast.
Thus when they had that troublous ront disperst,
Unto the castle gate they come againe,
And entraunce crav'd, which was denied erst.
Now when report of that their perlous paine,
And cumbrous conflict which they did sustaine,
Came to the ladies eare which there did dwell,
Shee forth isséwed with a goodly traine
Of squires and ladies equipaged well,
And entertained them right fairely, as befell.