XXXIII.
Now, more and more having himselfe enrolde,
His glittering breast he lifteth up on hie,
And with proud vaunt his head aloft doth holde;
His creste above, spotted with purple die,
On everie side did shine like scalie golde
And his bright eyes, glauncing full dreadfullie,
Did seeme to flame out flakes of flashing fyre,
And with sterne lookes to threaten kindled yre.
XXXIV.
Thus wise long time he did himselfe dispace
There round about, when as at last he spide,
Lying along before him in that place,
That flocks grand captaine and most trustie guide:
Eftsoones more fierce in visage, and in pace,
Throwing his firie eyes on everie side,
He commeth on, and all things in his way
Full stearnly rends, that might his passage stay.
XXXV.
Much he disdaines, that anie one should dare
To come unto his haunt; for which intent
He inly burns, and gins straight to prepare
The weapons which nature to him hath lent;
Fellie he hisseth, and doth fiercely stare,
And hath his iawes with angrie spirits rent,
That all his tract with bloudie drops is stained,
And all his foldes are now in length outstrained.
XXXVI.
Whom, thus at point prepared, to prevent,
A litle noursling of the humid ayre,
A gnat, unto the sleepie shepheard went;
And, marking where his ey-lids twinckling rare
Shew’d the two pearles, which sight unto him lent,
Through their thin coverings appearing fayre,
His little needle there infixing deep,
Warnd him awake, from death himselfe to keep.
XXXVII.
Wherewith enrag’d, he fiercely gan upstart,
And with his hand him rashly bruzing slewe
As in avengement of his heedles smart,
That streight the sprite out of his senses flew,
And life out of his members did depart:
When suddenly casting aside his vew,
He spide his foe with felonous intent,
And fervent eyes to his destruction bent.
XXXVIII.
All suddenly dismaid, and hartles quight,
He fled abacke, and, catching hastie holde
Of a yong alder hard beside him pight,
It rent, and streight about him gan beholde
What god or fortune would assist his might.
But whether god or fortune made him hold
Its hard to read: yet hardie will he had
To overcome, that made him lesse adrad.
XXXIX.
The scalie backe of that most hideous snake
Enwrapped round oft faining to retire,
And oft him to assaile, he fiercely strake
Whereas his temples did his creast-front tyre;
And, for he was but slowe, did slowth off shake
And gazing ghastly on; (for feare and yre
Had blent so much his sense, that lesse he feard;)
Yet, when he saw him slaine, himselfe he cheard.
XL.
By this the Night forth from the darksome bowre
Of Herebus her teemed steedes gan call,
And laesie Vesper in his timely bowre
From golden Oeta gan proceede withall;
Whenas the shepheard after this sharpe stowre
Seing the doubled shadowes low to fall,
Gathering his straying flocke, does homeward fare,
And unto rest his wearie ioynts prepare.
XLI.
Into his sense so soone as lighter sleepe
Was entered, and, now loosing everie lim,
Sweete slumbring deaw in carelessnesse did steepe;
The image of that gnat appeard to him,
And in sad tearmes gan sorrowfully weepe,
With griesly countenaunce and visage grim,
Wailing the wrong which he had done of late,
In steed of good hastning his cruell fate.
XLII.
Said he, “What have I wretch deserv’d, that thus
Into this bitter bale I am outcast,
Whilest that thy life more deare and precious
Was than mine owne, so long as it did last!
I now, in lieu of paines so gracious,
Am tost in th’ ayre with everie windie blast:
Thou, safe delivered from sad decay,
Thy careles limbs in loose sleep dost display.
XLIII.
“So livest thou; but my poore wretched ghost
Is forst to ferrie over Lethes river,
And spoyld of Charon too and fro am tost.
Seest thou not how all places quake and quiver,
Lightned with deadly lamps on everie post?
Tisiphone each where doth shake and shiver
Her flaming fiër-brond, encountring me,
Whose lockes uncombed cruell adders be.
XLIV.
“And Cerberus, whose many mouthes doo bay
And barke out flames, as if on fire he fed;
Adowne whose necke, in terrible array,
Ten thousand snakes cralling about his hed
Doo hang in heapes, that horribly affray,
And bloodie eyes doo glister firie red;
He oftentimes me dreadfullie doth threaten
With painfull torments to be sorely beaten.
XLV.
“Ay me! that thankes so much should faile of meed:
For that I thee restor’d to life againe,
Even from the doore of death and deadlie dreed
Where then is now the guerdon of my paine?
Where the reward of my so piteous deed?
The praise of pitie vanisht is in vaine,
And th’ antique faith of iustice long agone
Out of the land is fled away and gone.
XLVI.
“I saw anothers fate approaching fast,
And left mine owne his safëtie to tender;
Into the same mishap I now am cast,
And shun’d destruction doth destruction render:
Not unto him that never hath trespast,
But punishment is due to the offender.
Yet let destruction be the punishment
So long as thankfull will may it relent.
