250
The second Booke of
Cant. V.
Fly, O Pyrrhochles, fly the dreadfull warre,That in thy selfe thy lesser partes doe moue,Outrageous anger, and woe working iarre,Direfull impatience, and hartmurdring loue;Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remoue,Which thee to endlesse bale captiued lead.But sith in might thou didst my mercy proue,Of courtesie to mee the cause aread,That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread.
Dreadlesse (said he) that shall I soone declare:It was complaind, that thou hadst done great tortVnto an aged woman, poore and bare,And thralled her in chaines with strong effort,Voide of all succour and needfull comfort:That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see,To worke such shame. Therefore I thee exhort,To chaunge thy will, and set occasion free,And to her captiue sonne yield his first libertee.
Thereat Sir Guyon smylde, And is that all(Said he) that thee so sore displeased hath?Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall,Whose freedom shall thee turne to greatest scath.Nath'lesse now quench thy whott embayling wrath:Loe there they bee; to thee I yield them free.Thereat he wondrous glad, out of the pathDid lightly leape, where he them bound did see,And gan to breake the bands of their captiuitee.
Soone as Occasion felt her selfe vntyde,Before her sonne could well assoyled bee,She to her vse returnd, and streight defydeBoth Guyon and Pyrrhochles: th'one (said hee)
Bycause
