88
The first Booke of
Cant. VI.
That cruell word her tender hart so thrild,That suddein cold did ronne through euery vaine,And stony horrour all her sences fildWith dying fitt, that downe she fell for paine.The knight her lightly reared vp againe,And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaineThe further processe of her hidden griefe;The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur'd the chief.
Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day,This fatall day, that shall I euer rew,To see two knights in trauell on my way(A sory sight) arraung'd in batteill new,Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:My feareful flesh did tremble at their strife,To see their blades so greedily imbrew,That dronke with blood, yet thristed after life:What more? the Redcrosse knight was slain with Paynim knife.
Ah dearest Lord (qd. she) how might that bee,And he the stoutest knight, that euer wonne?Ah dearest dame (qd. hee) how migh I seeThe thing, that might not be, and yet was donne?Where is (said Satyrane) that Paynims sonne,That him of life, and vs of ioy hath refte?Not far away (qd. she) he hence doth wonneForeby a fountaine, where I late him lefteWashing his bloody wounds, that through the steele were cleft.
Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast,Whiles Vna with huge heauinesse opprest,Could not for sorrow follow him so fast;And soone he came, as he the place had ghest,
Whereas
