Citation
Stories from the Faerie queene

Material Information

Title:
Stories from the Faerie queene
Creator:
Macleod, Mary, d. 1914
Spenser, Edmund, 1552?-1599
Hales, John W ( John Wesley ), 1836-1914 ( Author of introduction )
Walker, Arthur G ( Illustrator )
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co ( Publisher )
Ballantyne, Hanson and Co ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
Gardner, Darton & Co.
Manufacturer:
Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
xxvii, 394, [8] p. : ill. ; 22 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Queens -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Chivalry -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Love -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Fairies -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Temperance -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Chastity -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Justice -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Fantasy literature -- 1897 ( rbgenr )
Allegories -- 1897 ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1897 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1897
Genre:
Fantasy literature ( rbgenr )
Allegories ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Date of publication on t.p. verso.
General Note:
Title page printed in red and black.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Mary Macleod ; with introduction by John W. Hales ; drawings by A.G. Walker.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026965314 ( ALEPH )
ALH8243 ( NOTIS )
237051086 ( OCLC )

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text










2:
5
:
o
g















Gtur.s bres (Pay

WH Cre from POR: Le Moohe .



Stories from the

Faerie Queene





“Sbe nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt ber taithtull night

That bad atchievde so great a conquest by bis might.”
—Page 36.






D

ee Peep sae
W STORIES Fito THE WE

AERIE QUBENE,

\

ent



ay MAR AGLEOE
akel De Se WES ARS Ceo
bows FS a SS
oe ;

oie inyeenvertion By

som Chl —



s \
3 /
u
Drawines BY
AG WALKER. Sculptor:

LONPON:

&e =
GARNER, DART os So

A. PATERIVOSTER











Introduction

HE object of this volume is to excite interest

in one of the greatest poems of English litera-
ture, which for all its greatness is but little read and
known—to excite this interest not only in young per-
sons who are not yet able to read “The Faerie Queene,”
with its archaisms of language, its distant ways and
habits of life and thought, its exquisite melodies that
only a cultivated ear can catch and appreciate, but
also in adults, who, not from the lack of ability, but
because they shrink from a little effort, suffer the
loss of such high and refined literary pleasure as the

perusal of Spenser’s masterpiece can certainly give.
vil



Introduction

Assuredly, when all that cavillers can say or do is
said and done, ‘‘The Faerie Queene” is deservedly
called one of the greatest poems of English literature.
From the high place it took, and took with acclama-
tion, when it first appeared, it has, in fact, never been
deposed. It has many defects and imperfections, such
as the crudest and most commonplace critic can dis-
cover, and has discovered with much self-complacency ;
but it has beauties and perfections that such critics
very often fail to see; and, so far as the status of
“The Faerie Queene” is concerned, it is enough for
the ordinary reader to grasp the significant fact that
Spenser has won specially for himself the famous
title of “the poets’ poet.” Ever since his star ap-
peared above the horizon, wise men from all parts
have come to worship it; and amongst these devotees
fellow-poets have thronged with a wonderful enthu-
siasm. In one point all the poetic schools of England
have agreed together, viz., in admiration for Spenser.
From Milton and Wordsworth on the one hand to
Dryden and Pope—from the one extreme of English
poetry to the other—has prevailed a perpetual reverence
for Spenser. The lights in his temple, so to speak,
have never been extinguished—never have there been
wanting offerers of incense and of praise; and, to
repeat in other words what has already been said, as
it is what we wish to specially emphasise, amidst this
faithful congregation have been many who already
had or were some day to have temples of their own.
We recognise amongst its members not only the great

poets already mentioned, but many others of the
vill



Introduction

divine brotherhood, some at least of whom rank with
the greatest, such as Keats, Shelley, Sidney, Gray,
Byron, the Fletchers, Henry More, Raleigh, Thomson,
not to name Beattie, Shenstone, Warton, Barnefield,
Peele, Campbell, Drayton, Cowley, Prior, Akenside,
Roden Noel. To this long but by no means exhaus-
tive list might be added many of high eminence in
other departments of literature and of life, as Gibbon,
Mackintosh, Hazlitt, Craik, Lowell, Ruskin, R. W.
Church, and a hundred more.

Now, of course, the acceptance of a poet is and
must be finally due to his own intrinsic merits. No
amount of testimonials from ever so highly distin-
guished persons will make a writer permanently popu-
lar if he cannot make himself so—if his own works
do not make him so. Of testimonials there is very
naturally considerable distrust—very naturally, when
we notice what second-rate penmen have been and are
cried up to the skies. But in the present case the
character of the testifiers is to be carefully considered ;
and, secondly, not only their words but their actions
are to be taken into account. Many of our greatest
poets have praised Spenser not only in formal phrases,
but practically and decisively, by surrendering them-
selves to his influence, by sitting at his feet, by taking
hints and suggestions from him. He has been their
master not merely nominally but actually, and with
obvious results. If all traces of Spenser’s fascination
and power could be removed from subsequent English
literature, that literature would be a very different

thing from what it is: there would be strange breaks
1X



Introduction

and blanks in many a volume, hiatuses in many a
line, an altered turning of many a sentence, a modifi-
cation of many a conception and fancy. And we are
convinced that the more Spenser is studied the more
remarkable will his dominance and his dominion be
found to be. To quote lines that have been quoted
before in this connection—
“‘ Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their urns draw golden light.”

“The Faerie Queene” is one of the great well-
heads of English poetry; or, in other words, Spenser’s
Faerie Land has been and is a favourite haunt of all
our highest poetic spirits.

And yet it is incontrovertible that this poem is
very little known as a whole to most people. Every-
body is familiar with the story of Una and the
Lion, and with two or three stanzas of singular
beauty in other parts of ‘‘ The Faerie Queen,” because
these occur in most or all books of selections: in
every anthology occur those fairest flowers. But the
world at large is content to know no more. ‘The size
of the poem appals it. ‘A big book is a big evil,” it
thinks, and it shudders at the idea of perusing the
six twelve-cantoed books in which Spenser’s genius
expressed itself—expressed itself only in an incom-
plete and fragmentary fashion, for many more books
formed part of his enormous design. ‘‘Of the persons
who read the first canto,” says Macaulay in a famous
Essay, ‘“‘not one in ten reaches the end of the First
Book, and not one in a hundred perseveres to the end
of the poem. Very few and very weary are those who

x



Introduction

are in at the death of the Blatant Beast. If the last
six books, which are said [without any authority] to
have been destroyed in Ireland, had been preserved,
we doubt whether any heart less stout than that of a
commentator would have held out to the end.” And
Macaulay speaks truly as well as wittily. He is as
accurate as Poins when Prince Hal asks him what he
would think if the Prince wept because the King his
father was sick. ‘‘I would think thee a most princely
hypocrite,” replies Poins. ‘‘It would be every man’s
thought,” says the Prince: ‘and thou art a blessed
fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man’s
thought in the world keeps the roadway better than
thine.” Even so is Macaulay ‘“‘a blessed fellow to
think as every man thinks,” and no doubt his blessed-
ness in this respect is one of the characteristics—by
no means the only one—that account for his wide-
spread popularity. He not only states that people
do not sead ‘‘ The Faerie Queen,” but he shows that
he himself, voracious reader—hel/uo Librorum—as he
was, had not done so, or had done so very carelessly ;
for, alas! the Blatant Beast, as at all events every
student of the present volume will know, does not
die; Sir Calidore only suppresses him for a time; he
but temporarily ties and binds him in an iron chain,
“and makes him follow him like a fearful dog;” and
one day long afterwards the beast got loose again —

“Ne ever could by any, more be brought
Into like bands, ne.maystred any more,
Albe that, long time after Calidore,

The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand,

xi



Introduction

And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore,
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land ;
Yet none of them could ever bring him into band.

«So now he raungeth through the world againe,
And rageth sore in cach degree and state ;
Ne any is that may him now restraine,
He growen is so great and strong of late,
Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
Albe they worthy blame; or clear of crime ;
Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime ;

But rends without regard of person or of time.””

And Spenser goes on to declare that even his “homely
verse of many meanest” cannot hope to escape “ his
venemous despite;” for, in his own day, as often
since, Spenser by no means found favour with every-
body. Clearly even Macaulay’s memory of the close of
“ The Faerie Queene” was sufficiently hazy. But even
Milton, to whom Spenser was so congenial a spirit,
and whom he acknowledged as his ‘“ poetical father,”
on one occasion at least forgets the details of the
Spenserian story. When insisting in the Areopagitica
that true virtue is not “a fugitive and cloistered
virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies
out and sees her adversary,” but a virtue that has
been tried and tested, he remarks that this “‘ was the
reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser, whom
I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus
or Aquinas, describing true temperance under the
person of Guion, brings him in with his Palmer

through the cave of Mammon and the bower of
XL =



Introduction

earthly bliss, that he may see, and know, and yet
abstain.” But the Palmer was not with Sir Guyon in
the Cave of Mammon, Phedria having declined to
ferry him over to her floating island. See “ The
Faerie Queene,” ii. 6, 19: —

«‘ Himselfe [Sir Guyon] she tooke aboord,
But the Black Palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price or prayers once affoord
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord.

“«‘ Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being entred might not back retyre ;
For the flitt barke, obeying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire

Adieu.”

So Macaulay’s lapse must not be regarded too
severely, though, as may be seen, much more promi-
nence is given by Spenser to the fact that the Blatant
Beast was not killed, than to the absence of the
Palmer from Guyon’s side in Mammon’s House. It
seems probable, indeed, that Macaulay mixed up the
fate of the Dragon in the eleventh canto of the First
Book with that of the Blatant Beast in the twelfth of
the Sixth. But we mention these things only to pre-
vent any surprise at the general ignorance of Spenser,
when such a confirmed book-lover as Macaulay, and
such a devoted Spenserian as Milton, are found tripping
in their allusions to his greatest work.

Now this ignorance, however explicable, is, we

think, to be regretted. A poet of such splendid attri-’
X11]



Introduction

butes, and with such a choice company of followers,
surely deserves to be better known than he is by “ the
general reader’; and we trust that this volume may
be of service in making the stories of “The Faerie
Queene” more familiar, and so in tempting the general
reader to turn to Spenser’s own version of them, and
to appreciate his amazing affluence of language, of
melody, and of fancy.

Clearly, Spenser does not appeal to everybody at
first; we mean that to enjoy him fully needs some
little effort to begin with—some distinct effort to put
ourselves in communication with him, so to. speak;
for he is far away from us in many respects. His
costume and his accent are very different from ours.
He does not seem to be of us or of our world. ‘‘ His
soul” is ‘‘like a star”: it dwells ‘‘apart.” We have,
it would appear at first sight, nothing in common with
him: he moves all alone in a separate sphere—he is
not of our flesh and blood. What strikes us at first
sight is a certain artificiality and elaborateness, as we
think. We cannot put ourselves on confidential terms
with him; he is too stately and poznt devise. His
art rather asserts than conceals itself to persons who
merely glance at him. But these impressions will be
largely or altogether removed, 2f ¢he reader will
really read “ The Faerie Queene.” He will nolonger
think of its author as a mere phrase-monger, or only
a dainty melodist, or the master of a superfine ‘style.
He will find himself in communion with a man of
high intellect, of a noble nature—of great attraction,

not only for his humanism, but for his humanity. To
xiv



Introduction

Spenser, Wordsworth’s lines in “A Poet’s Epitaph”
may be applied with particular and profound truth :—

‘“‘ He is retired as noontide dew,
Or fountain in a noonday grove;
And you must love him ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.”

The very opulence of Spenser’s genius stands in
the way of his due appraisement. ‘There can scarcely
be a doubt that if he could have restrained the re-
dundant stream. of his poetry, he might have been
more worthily recognised. Had he written less, he
would have been praised more; as it is, with many
readers, mole ruit sua: they are overpowered and
bewildered by the immense flood. The waters of
Helicon seem a torrent deluge. We say his popu-
larity would have been greater, if he could have
restrained and controlled this amazing outflow; but,
after all, we must take our great poets as we find
them. In this very abundance, as in other ways,
Spenser was a child of his age, and we must accept
him with all his faults as well as with all his excellences.
Both faults and excellences are closely inter-connected.
Ll a les défauts de ses qualites.

He said that Chaucer was his poetical master, and
more than once he mentions Chaucer with the most
generous admiration :—

‘Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,
On Fames eternal beadroll worthy to be fyled.”’

«That old Dan Geffrey, in whose gentle spright
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell,”
XV



Introduction

And Chaucer too may be said to suffer from a very
plethora of wealth. Chaucer is apt to be super-
abundant ; but yet he was a model of self-restraint:
as compared with Spenser. One cannot say in this
case, ‘‘ Like master, like man,” or, “ Like father, like
son.” Their geniuses are entirely different — a fact
which makes Spenser’s devotion to Chaucer all the
more noticeable and interesting; and the art of the
one is in sharp contrast with the art of the other.
Chaucer is a masterly tale-teller: no one in all English
poetry equals him in this faculty; he is as supreme
in it as Shakespeare in the department of the drama.
In his tales Chaucer is, ‘‘ without o’erflowing, full.”
The conditions under which they were told bene-
ficially bounded and limited them. Each is multum
im parvo. ‘They are very wonders of compression,
and yet produce no sense of confinement or excision.
Spenser could not possibly have set before himself a
better exemplar ; but yet he so set him in vain. The
contrast between the two poets, considered merely as
narrators or story-tellers, is vividly exhibited in the
third canto of the Fourth Book of “The Faerie
Queene,” where, after a reverent obeisance to his great
predecessor, he attempts to tell the other half of the
half-told story.

«¢ Of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That owned the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass,
On which the Tartar king did ride.”
XVI



Introduction

t is not without some misgiving that he adventures
on such a daring task :—

‘Then pardon, O most sacred happie Spirit !
That I thy labours lost} may thus revive,
And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,
That none durst ever whilest thou wast alive,
And being dead in vain yet many strive.
Ne dare I like; but through infusion swete
Of thine own Spirit which doth in me survive,
I follow here the footing of thy feete,

But with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.’”

But it can scarcely be allowed either that he follows
the footing of his master’s feet, or that he caught the
breath of his master’s spirit. There are “diversities of

?

operations”’; and Spenser’s method and manner were
.not those of Chaucer, however sincere the allegiance he
professed, and however sincere his intentions to tread
in his footsteps and march along the same road. He
wanted some gifts and some habits that are necessary
for the perfect story-teller—gifts and habits which
Chaucer, by nature or by discipline, possessed in a
high degree, such as humour, concentration, realism.
The very structure of “The Faerie Queene” is de-
fective. It begins in the middle—at its opening it
takes us zz medias res, seemingly in accordance with

1 Spenser thought that the latter Part or Parts of the “Squire’s Tale” had
actually been written but been lost—been “quite devoured” by ‘cursed eld,”
and “brought to nought by little bits,” as he quaintly expresses it. But it
may be taken as certain Chaucer left the tale as we have it, that is, ‘* half told.”
The closing lines of what we have are clearly unrevised. For some reason or
another—trouble or sickness, or his growing infirmity—what would have
been one of the most brilliant works of the Middle Ages was never completed,
and, like “ Christabel” and “ Hyperion,” remains only a glorious fragment.

XvV1lL



Introduction

the precedent of the //zad or of the nezd, but
only seemingly, for both Homer and Virgil very
soon finish the explanation of their opening initial
scenes, and their readers know where they are. But
the first six books of ‘The Faerie Queene”’ are very
slightly connected together; and what the connection
is meant to be we learn only from the letter of the
poet to Sir Walter Raleigh, which it was thought
well to print with the first three books, no doubt in
consequence of some complaints of obscurity and dis-
attachment. This letter is significantly described as
“expounding his” (the author’s) ‘whole intention in
the course of this work,” and as “‘ hereunto annexed, for
that it giveth great light to the reader for the better
understanding.” Certainly a story ought not to re-
quire a prose appendix to set forth its arrangement
and its purpose, even if only a fourth of it is completed.
The exact correlation of eleven books was to remain
unrevealed till the Twelfth Book appeared. In fact,
had the poem ever been completed, we should have
had to begin its perusal at the end! Thus “The Faerie
Queene,” as has often been remarked, lacks unity and
cohesion. It is not so much one large and glorious
mansion as a group of mansions. ‘To use the metaphor
of Professor Craik, to whom many subsequent writers
on Spenser have been so considerably indebted, and
often without any at all adequate acknowledgment, it
is a street of fine houses, or, to use another meta-
phor of Professor Craik’s, which also has been freely
adopted by other critics, it is in parts a kind of wilder-

ness—a wilderness of wonderful beauty and wealth,
xvill :



Introduction

in which it is a delight to wander, but yet a wilderness
with paths and tracks dimly and faintly marked, often
scarcely to be discerned.

Such was the abundance of Spenser’s fancy, and so
various and extensive was his learning, that he wrote,
it would seem, with an amazing facility, never checked
by any paucities of either knowledge or ideas. His
pen could scarcely keep pace with his imagination.
His material he drew from all accessible sources—
from the Greek and Latin classics (his sympathetic ac-
quaintance with Plato is one of his distinctions), from
the Italian poets (not only from Ariosto and Tasso,
but Berni, Boiardo, Pulci, and others), from the old
Romances of Chivalry (especially the Arthurian in
Malory’s famous rendering, Bevis of Southampton,
Amadis de Gaul), from what there was of modern
English literature (above all, Chaucer’s works, but
also Hawes and other minor writers) and of modern
French literature (especially Marot), from contempo-
rary history (all the great personages of his time are
brought before us in his pages): but all these diverse
elements he combines and assimilates in his own
fashion, and forms into a compound quite unique, and
highly characteristic both of the hour and of the man.
No wonder if the modern reader is at first somewhat
perplexed and confused; no wonder if he often loses
the thread of the story, and fails to comprehend
such an astonishing prodigality of incident and of per-
sonification. Figure after figure flits before his eyes—
the cry is still “They come”; one seems to be in the
very birthplace and home of dreams, knights, ladies,

X1X



Introduction

monsters, wizards, and witches; all forms of good and
evil throng by in quick succession, and we are apt to
forget who is who and what is what. Probably some
candid good-natured friend complained to Spenser of
this complicatedness, which is certainly at its worst in
the Third and Fourth Books; and in a certain passage
in the Sixth he makes some sort of defence of himself
for what might seem divisions or aberrations in the
story of Sir Calidore. He compares himself to a ship
that, by reason of counter-winds and tides, fails to go
straight to its destination, but yet makes for it, and
does not lose its compass; see VI. xii. 1 and 2.

We are sure that for all young readers such a
version of Spenser’s stories as is given in this volume
may be truly serviceable in preparing them for the
study of the poem itself. And with some older
readers too —and it is to them this Introduction is
mainly addressed—we would fain hope this volume
may find a hearty welcome, as providing them with
a clue to what seems an intricate maze. What we
should like to picture to ourselves is young and old
reading these stories together, and the elder students
selecting for their own benefit, and for the benefit of
the younger, a few stanzas here and there from “The
Faerie Queene” by way of illustration. Of course we
do not make this humble suggestion to the initiated,
but to those—and their name is Legion —who at
present know nothing or next to nothing of what is
certainly one of the masterpieces of English literature.

JOHN W. HALES.

XX





THE RED CROSS KNIGHT— PAGE

THE COURT OF THE QUEEN I
THE WooD OF ERROR 5 : : 5 ; : : 4
THE KNIGHT DECEIVED BY THE MAGICIAN 8
THE KNIGHT FORSAKES UNA . : ‘ ; ‘i erste)
HOLINESS FIGHTS FAITHLESS, AND MAKES FRIENDS
WITH FALSE RELIGION 4 : , fg : a2 eL5
UNA AND THE LION . , ‘ : é : oe a
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY : : . : a2 S|
THE HOUSE OF PRIDE A i . : i <20
THE BATTLE FOR THE SHIELD. ; 3 5 sO
UNA AND THE WOODLAND KNIGHT. : . 4 eA
THE FALSE PILGRIM . : , : 3 2 : ee43
GIANT PRIDE y x 2 a : : _ : ery)
PRINCE ARTHUR. : : : : : : : Paes ©)
THE WONDROUS BUGLE AND THE MIGHTY SHIELD. 54

THE KNIGHT WITH THE HEMPEN ROPE. : . PaeeOS
XX1



Contents

PAGE

IN THE CAVE OF DESPAIR : : : . 68
How THE RED Cross KNIGHT CAME TO THE HOUSE

OF HOLINESS : : : : ; Pee 3
THE CITY OF THE GREAT Kine 3 : : : eee.O)
THE Last FIGHT ; 3 a 3 : : 5 Od

“EASE AFTER WAR” . é : 2 e fs a . 86

THE GOOD SIR GUYON—

SIR GUYON MEETS THE MAGICIAN . : ; , te 92
FRIEND OR FOE? f : : ROO
THE STORY OF THE NIGHT AND THE eee : . 100
THE THREE SISTERS . i : : : e : - 104
BRAGGADOCHIO . = : : : : 3 A - 108
Fury’s CAPTIVE . : : : : 3 5 é eee lle
THE ANGER OF FIRE. : : : 2 ‘ : » 116
THE IDLE LAKE. : a ¢ : a j : + 121
THE REALM OF PLUTO. : : , : : ell 7,
THE CAVE OF MAMMON . ; ; 3 : : <2 132
THE CHAMPION OF CHIVALRY . ; . : : . 139
THE HOUSE OF TEMPERANCE . : : : ; . 144
THE ROCK OF REPROACH AND THE WANDERING
ISLANDS : 5 : ; . 150
SEA-MONSTERS AND anes MONSTERS ; E : - 156
THE BOWER OF BLISS ; : : : 3 5 - 158

THE LEGEND OF BRITOMART—

How SIR GUYON MET A CHAMPION MIGHTIER THAN
HIMSELF : , . 167

How BRITOMART FOUGHT WITH on Tecra ‘ ee ty72.

How IT FARED WITH BRITOMART IN CASTLE JOYOUS . 177

How BRITOMART LOOKED INTO THE MAGIC MIRROR . 181

How BRITOMART WENT TO THE CAVE OF THE
MAGICIAN MERLIN. : : A . 186

How BRITOMART SET FORTH ON HER Ours : nea)
xxil



Contents

PAGE
How BRITOMART CAME TO THE CASTLE OF THE

CHURL MALBECCO : ; : : es ealOO
How BRITOMART WALKED THROUGH FIRE . : . 200
Wuat BRITOMART SAW IN THE ENCHANTED CHAMBER 206
How BRITOMART RESCUED A FAIR LADY FROM A

WICKED ENCHANTER . j : Lote
WHAT STRANGE MEETINGS BEFELL ON THE War ROD 7,
How Sir SATYRANE PROCLAIMED A GREAT TOURNA-

MENT . : ; ; W223
WHAT BEFELL ON THE ea AND GSEconD Das OF

THE TOURNAMENT é . : 5 se 229
How BRITOMART DID BATTLE FOR THE Goon

GIRDLE . 5 . : : : : 238A
How THE GOLDEN GIRDLE WAS AWARDED TO THE

FALSE FLORIMELL : : . 239

How Sir SCUDAMOUR CAME TO THE Hence OF Gane 244

How tue “SavacE KNIGHT” MET THE “KNIGHT
WITH THE EBONY SPEAR” . : ; : : . 250

How BRITOMART ENDED HER QUEST. ; : » 255

THE SQUIRE OF LOW DEGREE—

THE GIANT WITH FLAMING EYES . : : : . 260
“FOR HIS FRIEND'S SAKE” : , 5 = . 268
THE GIANT'S DAUGHTER . 5 ‘i : ‘ 5 5 OE

THE ADVENTURES OF SIR ARTEGALL—

THE SWORD OF JUSTICE AND THE IRON MAN : . 280
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SARACEN’S BRIDGE : . 286
THE GIANT WITH THE SCALES. A . 290
BORROWED PLUMES, AND THE FATE OF THE Shoes
Lapy . : ; : : a 2ot

How THE GooD es BRICADORE KNEW HIS OWN

MASTER. : i : - 5 : : ‘ » 301
Xxil]



Contents

THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE
COFFER . :

RADIGUND, QUEEN OF THE AMONG

How Sir ARTEGALL THREW AWAY HIS SwOoRD

THE HOUSE OF GUILE : :

THE BATTLE OF QUEEN RADIGUND AND BEOUn

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DAMSEL, THE Two
KNIGHTS, AND THE SULTAN’S HORSES

THE ADVENTURE AT THE DEN OF DECEIT

THE ADVENTURE OF THE TYRANT GRANTORTO

SIR CALIDORE, KNIGHT OF COURTESY—
THE QUEST OF THE BLATANT BEAST. 5 ; ,
THE PROUD DISCOURTEOUS KNIGHT
CORIDON AND PASTORELLA
IN THE BRIGANDS’ DEN
THE BEAST WITH A THOUSAND TORCURS



PAGE

305
311
318
323
331

336
345
352

360
369
374
381
389









Ls STRAT 1ONS ff i
i

}

J

FRONTISPIECE— On the morning of the third day he slew the
Dragon.
TITLE-PAGE.

PAGE

Heading to Introduction . : ‘ : 3 : : Pe eavAll
on Contents . 5 5 = : : 5 e Se exxl
7 List of Illustrations . : : : z 3 . XXV

H

Arming the Knight

There rode into the city a fair lady 3
Rushing at his foe : : : : : ; : : : 6
At last they chanced to meet an old man 9
“The Lady Una has left you!” . : : 2 : : eels
Sleeping quietly in her bower. d : ; : : 5 itd)
The two knights levelled their spears and rushed at each other 16
When she slept, he kept watch - . Lior espe LO)
He was afraid to go too near. : 5 z : ; E23
Tearing off his helmet . ’ : ; : : : ; Beez)
With his sword he struck the lion : : - 2

They saw in front of them a grand and Peaititul building” aen2 ©

XXV



List of Illustrations

High above all sat the Queen

The coach was drawn by an ugly and ill-matched team

Duessa stole secretly to the lodging of the pagan knight

A poor, simple pilgrim

The Knight tried to seize his weapons

The Prince carried him out of the castle

They saw a knight galloping towards them :

They came to the place where Despair had his dwelling

The third daughter, whose name was Love

It was called “The City of the Great King”

The Red Cross Knight and Una were betrothed

Sir Guyon and the Black Palmer

He saw marching to meet him a noble Knight .

A beautiful lady sat alone, weeping bitterly

An end to all her sorrow

They came to a Castle on a rock near the sea

“ Yield thyself my captive !”

A savage man beating a handsome youth

“ There is now coming a knight of wondrous power ”

“Lady, you have not done right to mislead me like this ”

He began with trembling hands to pour them through a hole
into the earth : 3 :

“ Behold what living eye has never seen before”

Watched over by a beautiful angel

The Knights soon drove them into confusion

The ferryman had to put forth all his strength and skill

A pack of wild beasts rushed forward

Acrasia tried to set herself free

Disguising themselves in poor clothes.

Hurled from his horse .

Britomart saw six knights

One of them shot a keen arrow at her
XXxvi

PAGE
29
33
37
45
48
59
65
69
77
81
87
92
93
97

103
105

' 110

113
119
123

129
135
140
147
153
159
164
167

173
179



List of Illustrations

Britomart looked well at the figure of this Knight

Deep in some work of wonder

Glaucé, taking down the armour, dressed her in it

The valiant stranger was a beautiful maiden

The flames parted on either side

He rode on a ravenous lion .

Fastened to a brazen pillar .

They presently saw two knights in armour

Feeding on the dead body of a milk-white palfrey

Both champions were felled to the ground .

Smote him sorely on the visor

Britomart showed her lovely Amoret .

They heard the sound of many iron hammers

Threatening to strike :

At last she was obliged to leave him .

The rescue of Amoret .

A mighty man, riding on a dromedary

The Giant’s daughter came one day in glee to the prison .
He found Pceana playing on a rote

The Saracen’s Bridge . E . : : 3 : s
Wild beasts . . . wrongfully oppressing others of their own kind
Sir Artegall gripped him fast by his iron collar .

They beheld a giant on a rock, holding a pair of scales
Straightway the enchanted damsel vanished into nothing .
He scourged him out of the court

“T helped to save her from the jaws of death”

In the midst of them he saw a Knight pinioned .

He was dazzled with astonishment

She came to a window opening to the west

In the temple of Isis . .

The Sultan’s horses, like hungry hounds, cruelly chased him

The noise of her weeping speedily brought forth the villain
Xxvii



List of Illustrations

Artegall, with his sword Crysaor, swiftly cut off his head
Sir Calidore and the shepherds

A comely Squire, bound hand and foot to a tree.

The Knight invited him to sit down beside them

He saw seated on a little hillock a beautiful maiden

The brigands made search to see who was slain

He threw his shield on him, and pinned him to the ground



PAGE
359
360
363
373
375
383
391



The Red Cross Knight

“ Right faithful true he was in deed and word”





The Court of the Queen
fA en NCE upon a time, in the days
( ee when there were still such
Ips things as giants and dragons, there
lived a great Queen. She reigned
over a rich and beautiful country,
and because she was good and noble
every one loved her, and tried also
to be good. Her court was the
most splendid one in the world, for all her knights
were brave and gallant, and each one thought only
of what heroic things he could do, and how best he
could serve his royal lady.

The name of the Queen was Gloriana, and each of
her twelve chief knights was known as the Champion
of some virtue. Thus Sir Guyon was the representa-
tive of Temperance, Sir Artegall of /ustzce, Sir Cali-
dore of Courtesy, and others took up the cause of
Friendship, Constancy, and so on.

Every year the Queen held a great feast, which

I A




VA
a fe
fi



The Red Cross Knight

lasted twelve days. Once, on the first day of the
feast, a stranger in poor clothes came to the court, and,
falling before the Queen, begged a favour of her. It was
always the custom at these feasts that the Queen
should refuse nothing that was asked, so she bade the
stranger say what it was he wished. Then he besought
that, if any cause arose which called for knightly aid,
the adventure might be entrusted to him.

When the Queen had given her promise he stood
quietly on one side, and did not try to mix with the
other guests who were feasting at the splendid tables.
Although he was so brave, he was very gentle and
modest, and he had never yet proved his valour in
fight, therefore he did not think himself worthy of
a place among the knights who had already won for
themselves honour and renown.

Soon after this there rode into the city a fair lady
on a white ass. Behind her came her servant, a dwarf,
leading a warlike horse that bore the armour of a
knight. The face of the lady was lovely, but it was
very sorrowful.

Making her way to the palace, she fell before Queen
Gloriana, and implored her help. She said that her
name was Una; she was the daughter of a king and
queen who formerly ruled over a mighty country;
but, many years ago, a huge dragon came and wasted
all the land, and shut the king and queen up in a
brazen castle, from which they might never come out.
The Lady Una therefore besought Queen Glortana to
grant her one of her knights to fight and kill this
terrible dragon.
= 2



The Court of the Queen







Then the stranger sprang forward, and reminded
the Queen of the promise she had given. At first
she was unwilling to consent, for the Knight was
young, and, moreover, he had no armour of his
own to fight with.

Then said the Lady Una to him, ‘ Will you
wear the armour that I bring you, for unless you do
you will never succeed in the enterprise, nor kill the
horrible monster of Evil? The armour is not new,
it is scratched and dinted with many a hard-fought
battle, but if you wear it rightly no armour that ever
was made will serve you so well.”

Then the stranger bade them bring the armour and
put it on him, and Una said, “Stand, therefore, having
your loins girt about with truth, and having on the
breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod with
the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all
taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and take

8



The Red Cross Knight

the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of Gop.”

And when the stranger had put off his own rough
clothes and was clad in this armour, straightway he
seemed the goodliest man in all that company, and
the Lady Una was well pleased with her champion ;
and, because of the red cross which he wore on his
breastplate and on his silver shield, henceforth he
was known always as “the Red Cross Knight.” But
his real name was AYo/iness, and the name of the lady
for whom he was to do battle was Zvath.

So these two rode forth into the world together,
while a little way behind followed their faithful atten-
dant, Prudence. And now you shall hear some of
the adventures that befell the Red Cross Knight and
his two companions.

The Wood of Error

The first adventure happened in this way. Scarcely
had the Red Cross Knight and the Lady Una started
on their journey when the sky suddenly became over-
cast, and a great storm of rain beat down upon the
earth. Looking about for shelter, they saw, not far -
away, a shady grove, which seemed just what they
wanted. The trees here had great spreading branches,
which grew so thickly overhead that no light could
pierce the covering of leaves. Through this wood
wide paths and alleys, well trodden, led in all direc-
tions. It seemed a truly pleasant place, and a safe

4



The Wood of Error

shelter against the tempest, so they entered in at
once.
At first, as they roamed along the winding paths
they found nothing but pleasure. Deeper and deeper
into the heart of the wood they went, hearing with joy
the sweet singing of the birds, and filled with wonder
to see so many different kinds of beautiful trees clus-
tered in one spot. But by-and-by, when the storm was
over and they wished to go forward on their journey,
they found, to their sorrow, that they had lost their
way. It was impossible to remember by which path
they had come; every way now seemed strange and
unknown. Here and there they wandered, backwards
and forwards; there were so many turnings to be seen,
so many paths, they knew not which to take to lead |
them out of the wood.

In this perplexity, at last they determined to go
straight forward until they found some end, either in
or out of the wood. Choosing for this purpose one of
the broadest and most trodden paths, they came pre-
sently, in the thickest part of the wood, to a hollow
cave. Then the Red Cross Knight dismounted from
his steed, and gave his spear to the dwarf to hold.

“Take heed,” said the Lady Una, “‘lest you too
rashly provoke mischief. This is a‘wild and unknown
place, and peril is often without show. Hold back,
therefore, till you know further if there is any danger
hidden there.”

“Ah, lady,” said the Knight, ‘it were shame to
go backward for fear of a hidden danger. Virtue her-
self gives light to lead through any darkness.”

5



The Red Cross Knight

“Yes,” said Una; “but I know better than you
the peril of this place, though now it is too late to
bid you go back like a coward. Yet wisdom warns
you to stay your steps, before you are forced to re-
treat. This is the Wandering Wood, and that is the
den of Error, a horrible monster, hated of all. There-
fore, I advise you to be cautious.”



“Fly, fly! this is no
place for living men!” cried
timid Prudence.

But the young Knight
was full of eagerness and
fiery courage, and nothing could stop him. Forth
to the darksome hole he went, and looked in. His
glittering armour made a little light, by which he
could plainly see the ugly monster. Such a great,
horrible thing it was, something like a snake, with a
long tail twisted in knots, with stings all over it.
And near this wicked big creature, whose other name

was Falsehood, there were a thousand little ones, all
6



The Wood of Error

varying in shape, but every one bad and ugly; for
you may be quite sure that wherever one of this
horrible race is found, there will always be many
others of the same family lurking near.

When the light shone into the cave all the little
creatures fled to hide themselves, and the big parent
Falsehood rushed out of her den in terror. But
when she saw the shining armour of the Knight she
tried to turn back, for she hated light as her deadliest
foe, and she was always accustomed to live in dark-
ness, where she could neither see plainly nor be seen.

When the Knight saw that she was trying to
escape, he sprang after her as fierce as a lion, and
then the great fight began. Though he strove
valiantly, yet he was in sore peril, for suddenly the
cunning creature flung her huge tail round and round
him, so that he could stir neither hand nor foot.

Then the Lady Una cried out, to encourage him,
“Now, now, Sir Knight, show what you are! Add
faith unto your force, and be not faint! Kill her,
or else she will surely kill you.”

With that, fresh strength and courage came to
the Knight. Gathering all his force, he got one
hand free, and gripped the creature by the throat
with so much pain that she was soon compelled
to loosen her wicked hold. Then, seeing that she
could not hope to conquer in this way, she suddenly
tried to stifle the Knight by flinging over him a flood
of poison. This made the Knight retreat a moment;
then she called to her aid all the horrid little creeping
and crawling monsters that he had seen before, and

7



The Red Cross Knight

many others of the same kind, or worse. These came
swarming and buzzing round the Knight like a cloud
of teasing gnats, and tormented and confused him
with their feeble stings. Enraged at this fresh attack,
he made up his mind to end the matter one way or
another, and, rushing at his foe, he killed her with
one stroke of his sword.

Then Lady Una, who, from a distance, had
watched all that passed, came near in haste to greet
his victory.

“Fair Knight,” she said, “born under happy
star! You are well worthy of that armour in which
this day you have won great glory, and proved your
strength against a strong enemy. This is your first
battle. I pray that you will win many others in
like manner.”

The Knight deceived by the Magician

After his victory over Falsehood, the Red Cross
Knight again mounted his steed, and he and the Lady
Una went on their way. Keeping carefully to one
path, and turning neither to the right hand nor the
left, at last they found themselves safely out of the
Wood of Error.

But now they were to fall into the power of a more
dangerous and treacherous foe than even the’ hateful
monster, Falsehood.

They had travelled a long way, and met with no

fresh adventure, when at last they chanced to meet in
8



Knight deceived by the Magician

the road an old man. He looked very wise and good.
He was dressed in a long black gown, like a hermit,
and had bare feet and a grey beard; he had a book
hanging from his belt, as was the
custom with scholars in those days.
He seemed very quiet and sad,
and kept his eyes fixed on the
ground, and all the time, as he
went along, he seemed to be say-
ing prayers, and lamenting over
his own wickedness.

When he saw the travellers he










made a very humble salute to them. The Red Cross
Knight returned the greeting with all courtesy, and
asked him if he knew of any strange adventures that

were then taking place.
« Ah, my dear son!” said the hermit, “ how should

9



The Red Cross Knight

a simple old man, who lives in a lonely cell, and does
nothing all day but sorrow for his own faults—how
should such a man know any tidings of war or worldly
trouble? It is not fitting for me to meddle with such
matters. But, if indeed you desire to hear about
danger and evil near at hand, I can tell you about a
strange man who wastes all the surrounding country.”

“That,” said the Knight, ‘is what I chiefly ask
about, and I will reward you well if you will guide
me to the place where he dwells. For it is a disgrace
to knighthood that such a creature should be allowed
to live so long.”

“Fis dwelling is far away from here, in the midst
of a barren wilderness,’ answered the old man. ‘No
living person may ever pass it without great danger
and difficulty.”

“Now,” said the Lady Una, “night is drawing
near, and I know well that you are wearied with your
former fight. Therefore, take rest, and with the new
day begin new work.”

“You have been well advised, Sir Knight,” said
the old man. ‘‘ Day is now spent; therefore take up
your abode with me for this night.”

_ The travellers were well content to do this, so
they went with the apparently good old man to his
home.

It was a little lowly hermitage, down in a dale by
the side of a forest, far from the beaten track of
travellers. A small chapel was built near, and close
by a crystal stream gently welled forth from a never-
failing fountain.

IO



Knight deceived by the Magician

Arrived at the house, they neither expected nor
found any entertainment; but rest was what they
chiefly needed, and they were well satisfied, for the
noblest mind is always the best contented. The old
man had a good store of pleasing words, and knew well
how to fit his talk to suit his visitors. The evening
passed pleasantly, and then the hermit conducted his
guests to the lodgings where they were to spend the night.

But when they were safely asleep a horrid change
came over the old man, for in reality he was not good
at all, although he pretended to be so. His heart was
full of hatred, malice, and deceit. He called himself
Archimago, which means a “ Great Magician,” but his
real name was Hypocrisy. He knew that as long as
Holiness and Truth kept together, no great harm
could come to either of them; so he determined to
do everything in his power to separate them. For
this purpose he got out all his books of magic, and set
to work to devise cunning schemes and spells. He
was so clever and wily that he could deceive people
much better and wiser than himself. ° He also had at
his bidding many bad little spirits, who ran about and
did his messages; these he used to help his friends
and frighten his enemies, and he had the power of
making them take any shape he wished.

Choosing out two of the worst of these, he sent
one on a message to King Morpheus, who rules over
the Land of Sleep. He bade him bring back with
him a bad, false dream, which Archimago then carried
to the sleeping Knight. So cunningly did he contrive
the matter, that when the Knight awoke the next

II



The Red Cross Knight

morning he never knew that it had only been a dream,
but believed that all the things he had seen in his sleep
had really happened.

In the meanwhile, Archimago dressed up the other
bad spirit to look like Una, so that at a little distance
it was impossible to tell any difference in the two
figures. He knew that the only way to part Holiness
and Truth was to make Holiness believe by some
means that Truth was not as good as she appeared to
be. He knew also that the Red Cross Knight would
believe nothing against the Lady Una except what he
saw with his own eyes. Therefore he laid his plans
with the greatest care and guile.

Now we shall see how he succeeded in his wicked
endeavour.

The Knight forsakes Una

The next morning at daybreak the Knight awoke,
sad and unrested after the unpleasant dreams that had
come to him in the night. He did not know he had
been asleep; he thought the things that troubled him
had really happened.

It was scarcely dawn when Archimago rushed up
to him in a state of pretended sorrow and indignation.

“The Lady Una has left you,” said this wicked
man. ‘She is not good as she pretends to be. She
cares nothing at all for you, nor for the noble work on
which you are bound, and she does not. mean to go
any farther with you on your toilsome journey.”

The Red Cross Knight started up in anger. This

12)



The Knight forsakes Una

was like his dream, and he knew not what was true
nor what was false.

“Come,” said Archimago, “‘see for yourself.”

He pointed to a figure in the distance whom the
Knight took to be Una. Then, indeed, he was forced
to believe what the wicked magician told him. He
now took for granted that Una had been deceiving
him all along, and had seized this moment to escape.









He forgot all her real sweetness and goodness and
beauty; he only thought how false and unkind she
was. He was filled with anger, and he never paused
a moment to reflect if there could be any possibility
of mistake. Calling his servant, he bade him bring
his horse at once, and then these two immediately set

forth again on their journey.
Here the Red Cross Knight was wrong, and we

13



The Red Cross Knight

shall see presently into what perils and misfortunes he
fell because of his hasty want of faith. If he had had
a little patience he would soon have discovered that
the figure he saw was only a
dressed-up imitation. The real
Lady Una all this time was
sleeping quietly in her own
bower.

When she awoke and found
that her two companions had
fled in the night and left her
alone behind, she was filled with
grief and dismay. She could
not understand why they should
do such a thing. Mounting her white ass, she rode
after them with all the speed she could, but the Knight
had urged on his steed so fast it was almost useless to
try to follow. Yet she never stayed to rest her weary
limbs, but went on seeking them over hill and dale,
and through wood and plain, sorely grieved in her
tender heart that the one she loved best should leave
her with such ungentle discourtesy.

When the wicked Archimago saw that his cunning
schemes had succeeded so well he was greatly pleased,
and set to work to devise fresh mischief. It was Una
whom he chiefly hated, and he took great pleasure
in her many troubles, for hypocrisy always hates real
goodness. He had the power of turning himself into
any shape he chose—sometimes he would be a fowl,
sometimes a fish, now like a fox, now like a dragon.
On the present occasion, to suit his evil purpose, it

14





Holiness fights Faithless

seemed best to him to put on the appearance of the
good knight whom he had so cruelly beguiled.

Therefore, Hypocrisy dressed himself up in imita-
tion armour with a silver shield and everything exactly
like the Red Cross Knight. When he sat upon his
fiery charger he looked such a splendid warrior you
would have thought it was St. George himself.

Holiness fights Faithless, and makes Friends with
False Religion

The true St. George, meanwhile, had wandered far
away. Now that he had left the Lady Una, he had
nothing but his own will to guide him, and he no
longer followed any fixed purpose.

Presently he saw coming to meet him another
warrior, fully armed. He was a great, rough fellow,
who cared nothing for Gop or man; across his shield,
in gay letters, was written “Sans Foy,” which means
Faithless. |

He had with him a companion, a handsome lady,
dressed all in scarlet, trimmed with gold and rich
pearls. She rode a beautiful palfrey, with gay trap-
pings, and little gold bells tinkled on her bridle. ‘The
two came along laughing and talking, but when the
lady saw the Red Cross Knight, she left off her mirth
at once, and bade her companion attack him.

Then the two knights levelled their spears, and
rushed at each other. But when Faithless saw the
red cross graven on the breastplate of the other, he

AG



ThemWeds Cross Knight



ASE
ee








knew that he could never prevail
against that safeguard. However,
he fought with great fury, and the

Vj Red Cross Knight had a hard battle
4. duets before he overcame him. At last
a he managed to kill him, and he told
his servant to carry away the shield of Faithless in token
of victory.

When the lady saw her champion fall, she fled in
terror; but the Red Cross Knight hurried after her,
and bade her stay, telling her that she had nothing
now to fear. His brave and gentle heart was full of
pity to see her in so great distress, and he asked her
to tell him who she was, and who was the man that
had been with her.

Melting into tears, she then told him the following
sad story :—She said that she was the daughter of an
emperor, and had been engaged to marry a wise and

good prince. Before the wedding-day, however, the
16







Una and the Lion

prince fell into the hands of his foes, and was cruelly slain.
She went out to look for his dead body, and in the course
of her wandering met the Saracen knight, who took her
captive. ‘Sans Foy” was one of three bad brothers.
The names of the others were “Sans Loy,” which means
Lawless, and “Sans Joy,” which means /oyless. She
further said that her own name was “‘ Fidessa,” or 77we
Religion, and she besought the Knight to have compas-
sion on her, because she was so friendless and unhappy.

“Fair lady,” said the Knight, “a heart of flint
would grieve to hear of your sorrows. But henceforth
rest safely assured that you have found a new friend
to help you, and lost an old foe to hurt you. A new
friend is better than an old foe.”

Then the seemingly simple maiden pretended to
look comforted, and the two rode on happily together.

But what the lady had told about herself was quite
untrue. Her name was not ‘‘Fidessa” at all, but
“ Duessa,” which means Halse Religion. If Una had
still been with the Knight, he would never have been
led astray; but when he parted from her he had
nothing but his own feelings to guide him. He still
meant to do right, but he was deceived by his false
companion, who brought him into much trouble and

danger.

Una and the Lion
All this while the Lady Una, lonely and forsaken,

was roaming in search of her lost Knight. How sad
was her fate! She, a King’s daughter, so beautiful, so
1 B :



The Red Cross Knight

faithful, so true, who had done no wrong either in word
or deed, was left sorrowful and deserted because of the
cunning wiles of a wicked enchanter. Fearing nothing,
she sought the Red Cross Knight through woods and
lonely wilderness, but no tidings of him ever came
to her.

One day, being weary, she alighted from her steed,
and lay down on the grass to rest. It was.in the midst
of a thicket, far from the sight of any traveller. She
‘lifted her veil, and put aside the black cloak which

always covered her dress.

«Her angel’s face,
As the great eye of Heaven shined bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place.”

Suddenly, out of the wood there rushed a fierce
lion, who, seeing Una, sprang at her to devour her;
but, when he came nearer, he was amazed at the sight
of her loveliness, and all his rage turned to pity.
Instead of tearing her to pieces, he kissed her weary
feet and licked her lily hand as if he knew how inno-
cent and wronged she was.’

When Una -saw the gentleness of this kingly
creature, she could not help weeping.

Sad to see her sorrow, he stood gazing at her; all’
his angry mood changed to compassion, till at last Una
mounted her snowy palfrey and once more set out to
seek her lost companion.

1 The figure of the lion may be taken as the emblem of /onour,
which always pays respect to Truth.

18



Una and the Lion

The lion would not leave her desolate, but went
with her as a strong guard and as a faithful companion.
When she slept he kept watch, and when she waked he
waited diligently, ready
to help her in any way he
could. He always knew
B from her looks what she

wanted.

Long she travelled thusthrough
lonely places, where she thought
her wandering Knight might pass,
yet never found trace of living
man. At length she came to the
foot of a steep mountain, where
the trodden grass showed that
there was a path for people to go.
This path she followed till at
last she saw, slowly walking
in the front of her, a damsel
carrying a jar of water,”

















The Lady Una called to her to ask if there were
any dwelling-place near, but the rough-looking girl
made no answer; she seemed not able to speak, nor

19



The Red Cross Knight

hear, nor understand. But when she saw the lion
standing beside her, she threw down her pitcher with
sudden fear and fled away. Never before in that land
had she seen the face of a fair lady, and the sight of
the lion filled her with terror. Fast away she fled, and
never looked behind till she came at last to her home,
where her blind mother sat all day in darkness. Too
frightened to speak, she caught hold of her mother
with trembling hands, while the poor old woman, full
of fear, ran to shut the door of their house.

By this time the weary Lady Una had arrived, and
asked if she might come in; but, when no answer came
to her request, the lion, with his strong claws, tore
open the wicket-door and let her into the little hut.
There she found the mother and daughter crouched up
in a dark corner, nearly dead with fear.

The name of the poor old blind woman was Super-
stition. She tried to be good in a very mistaken way.
She hid herself in her dark corner, and was quite con-
tent never to come out of it. When the beautiful Lady
Una, who was all light and truth, came to the hut, the
mother and daughter, instead of making her welcome,
hated her, and would gladly have thrust her out.

Trying to soothe their needless dread, Una spoke
gently to them, and begged that she might rest that
night in their small cottage. To this they unwillingly
agreed, and Una lay down with the faithful lion at her
feet to keep watch. All night, instead of sleeping, she
wept, still sorrowing for her lost Knight and longing
for the morning.

In the middle of the night, when all the inmates

20



Una and the Lion

of the little cottage were asleep, there came a furious
knocking at the door. This was a wicked thief,
called “ Kirkrapine,” or Church-robber, whose custom
it was to go about stealing ornaments from churches,
and clothes from clergymen, and robbing the alms-
boxes of the poor. He used to share his spoils with
the daughter of the blind woman, and to-night he
had come with a great sackful of stolen goods.

When he received-no answer to his knocking, he |
got very angry indeed, and made a loud clamour at
the door; but the women in the hut were too much
afraid of the lion to rise and let him in. At last he
burst open the door in a great rage and tried to enter,
but the lion sprang upon him and tore him to pieces -
before he could even call for help. His terrified
friends scarcely dared to weep or move in case they
should share his fate.

When daylight came, Una rose and started again
on her journey with the lion to seek the wandering
Knight. As soon as they had left, the two frightened
women came forth, and, finding Church-robber slain
outside the cottage, they began to wail and lament ;
then they ran after Una, railing at her for being the
cause of all their ill; they called after her evil wishes
that mischief and misery might fall on her and follow
her all the way, and that she might ever wander in
endless error.

When they saw that their bad words were of no
avail, they turned back, and there in the road they
met a knight, clad in armour ; but, though he looked
such a grand warrior, it was really only the wicked

21



The Red Cross Knight

enchanter, Hypocrisy, who was seeking Una, in
order to work her fresh trouble. When he saw
the old woman, Superstition, he asked if she could
give him any tidings of the lady. Therewith her
passion broke out anew; she told him what had
just happened, blaming Una as the cause Ofaealll
her distress. Archimago pretended to condole with

her, and then, finding out the direction in which Una
~ had gone, he followed as quickly as possible.

Before long he came up to where Una was slowly
travelling; but seeing the noble lion at her side, he
was afraid to go too near, and turned away to a hill
at a little distance. When Una saw him, she thought,
from his shield and armour, that it was her own true
knight, and she rode up to him, and spoke meekly,
half-frightened.

“‘ Ah, my lord,” she said, “‘ where have you been so
long out of my sight? I feared that you hated me,
or that I had done something to displease you, and
that made everything seem dark and cheerless. But
welcome now, welcome!”

“My dearest lady,” said false Hypocrisy, “you
must not think I could so shame knighthood as to
desert you. But the truth is, the reason why I left
you so long was to seek adventure in a strange place,
where Archimago said there was a mighty robber, who
worked much mischief to many people. Now he will
trouble no one further. This is the good reason why
I left you. Pray believe it, and accept my faithful
service, for I have vowed to defend you by land and
sea. Let your grief be over.”

2D



In the Hands of the Enemy




































When Una heard these
sweet words it seemed to her
that she was fully rewarded
for all the trials she had gone
through. One loving hour can
make up for many years of sorrow.
She forgot all that she had suf-
fered; she spoke no more of the
past. True love never looks back, but always forward.
Before her stood her Knight, for whom she had toiled
so sorely, and Una’s heart was filled with joy.

In the Hands of the Enemy

Una and the Magician (who was disguised as the
Red Cross Knight) had not gone far when they saw
some one riding swiftly towards them. The new-comer
was on a fleet horse, and was fully armed ; his look was
stern, cruel, and revengeful. On his shield in bold

23



The Red Cross Knight

letters was traced the name “Sans Loy,” which means
Lawless. He was one of the brothers of ‘Sans Foy,”
or Faithless, whom the real Red Cross Knight had slain,
and he had made up his mind to avenge his brother’s
death.

When he saw the red cross graven on the shield
which Hypocrisy carried, he thought that he had found
the foe of whom he was in search, and, levelling his
spear, he prepared for battle. Hypocrisy, who was a
mean coward, and had never fought in his life, was
nearly fainting with fear; but the Lady Una spoke
such cheering words that he began to feel more hope-
ful. Lawless, however, rushed at him with such fury
that he drove his lance right through the other’s shield,









and bore him to the ground. Leaping from his horse,
he ran towards him, meaning to kill him, and exclaim-
ing, ‘Lo, this is the worthy reward of him that slew
Faithless!”
Una begged the cruel knight to have pity on his
fallen foe, but her words were of no avail. ‘Tearing off
24



In the Hands of the Enémy

his helmet, Lawless would




have slain him at
once, but he stopped
in astonishment
when, instead of the
Red Cross Knight,
he saw the face of
Archimago. He
knewwell that crafty
Hypocrisy was
skilled in all forms
of deceit, but that he took care to shun fighting and
brave deeds. Now, indeed, had Hypocrisy’s guile met
with a just punishment.

“Why, luckless Archimago, what is this?” cried
Lawless. ‘‘ What evil chance brought you here? Is
it your fault, or my mistake, that I have wounded my
friend instead of my foe?”

But the old Magician answered nothing; he lay
still as if he were .dying. So.Lawless spent no more
time over him, but went over to where Una waited,
lost in amazement and sorely perplexed.

Her companion, whom she had imagined was her
own true Knight, turned out to be nothing but an
impostor, and she herself had fallen into the hands of
a cruel enemy.



Wanner

2)



The Red Cross Knight

When the brave lion saw Lawless go up to Una
and try to drag her roughly from her palfrey, full
of kingly rage he rushed to protect her. He flew at
Lawless and almost tore his shield to pieces with his
sharp claws. But, alas! he could not overcome the
warrior, for Lawless was one of the strongest men that
ever wielded spear, and was well skilled in feats of arms.
With his sharp sword he struck the lion, and the noble
creature fell dead at his feet.

Poor Una, what was to become of her now? Her
faithful guardian was gone, and she found herself the
captive of a cruel foe. Lawless paid no heed to her
tears and entreaties. Placing her on his own horse, he
rode off with her; while her snow-white ass, not will-
ing to forsake her, followed meekly at a distance.



The House of Pride

Now the Red Cross Knight, because of his lack of
loyalty to Una, fell into much danger and difficulty.
His first fault was in believing evil of her so readily,
and leaving her forlorn; after that he was too easily
beguiled by the pretended goodness and beauty of

26



The House of Pride

Duessa. All who fight in a good cause must beware
of errors such as these. If matters do not go exactly
as we wish, we must not lose heart and get impatient ;
even if we cannot understand what is happening,
we must trust that all will be well. We must keep
steadily to the one true aim set before us, or else,
like the Red Cross Knight, we may be led astray by
false things that are only pleasant in appearance, and
have no real goodness.

Duessa and the Knight travelled for a long way, till
at last they saw in front of them a grand and beautiful
building. It seemed as if it were the house of some
mighty Prince; a broad highway led up to it, all
trodden bare by the feet of those who flocked thither.
Great troops of people of all sorts and condition
journeyed here, both by day and night. But few re-
turned, unless they managed to escape, beggared and
disgraced, when, ever afterwards, they lived a life of
misery.

‘To this place Duessa guided the Red Cross Knight,
for she was tired with the toilsome journey, and the
day was nearly over.

It was a stately palace, built of smooth bricks,
cunningly laid together without mortar. The walls
were high, but neither strong nor thick, and they were
covered with dazzling gold-foil. There were many
lofty towers and picturesque galleries, with bright
windows and delightful bowers; and on the top there
was a dial to tell the time.

It was lovely to look at, and did much credit to
the workman that designed it; but it was a great pity

27



The Red Cross Knight

that so fair a building rested on so frail a foundation.
For it was mounted high up on a sandy hill that kept
shifting and falling away. Every breath of heaven
made it shake; and all the back parts, that no one
could see, were old and ruinous, though cunningly
painted over.

Arrived here, Duessa and the Red Cross Knight
passed in at once, for the gates stood wide open to all.
They were in charge of a porter, called ‘ I]-come,” who

- never denied entrance to any one. The hall inside was
hung with costly tapestry and rich curtains. Numbers
of people, rich and poor, were waiting here, in order to
gain sight of the Lady of this wonderful place. :

Duessa and the Knight passed through this crowd,
who all gazed at them, and entered the Presence
Chamber of the Queen.

What a dazzling sight met their eyes! Such a
scene of splendour had never been known in the court
of any living prince. A noble company of lords and
ladies stood on every side, and made the place more
beautiful with their presence.

High above all there was a cloth of state, and a
rich throne as bright as the sun. On the throne, clad
in royal robes, sat the Queen. Her garments were all
glittering with gold and precious jewels; but so great
was her beauty that it dimmed even the brightness of
her throne. She sat there in princely state, shining
like the sun. She hated and despised all lowly things
of earth, Under her scornful feet lay a dreadful
dragon, with a hideous tail. In her hand she held a

mirror in which she often looked at her face; she took
28







4)
YP

wl










“Zo! underneath ber scornful feet was layne
WH dreadful dragon with an hideous trayne ;
nd in ber band she beld a mirrbour bright,
Wibercin ber face she often viewed fayne,
And in ber selfeloved semblance took delight.”









The House of Pride

great delight in her own appearance, for she was fairer
than any living woman.

She was the daughter of grisly Pluto, King of
Hades, and men called her proud Lucifera. She had
crowned herself a queen, but she had no rightful king-
dom at all, nor any possessions. The power which she
had obtained she had usurped by wrong and tyranny.
She ruled her realm not by laws, but by craft, and
according to the advice of six old wizards, who with
their bad counsels upheld her kingdom.

As soon as the Knight and Duessa came into the
presence-chamber, an usher, by name Vanzty, made
room and prepared a passage for them, and brought
them to the lowest stair of the high throne. Here
they made a humble salute, and declared that they had
come to see the Queen’s royal state, and to prove if
the wide report of her great splendour were true.

With scornful eyes, half unwilling to look so low,
she thanked them disdainfully, and did not show them
any courtesy worthy of a queen, scarcely even bidding
them arise. The lords and ladies of the court, how-
ever, were all eager to appear well in the eyes of the
strangers. They shook out their ruffles, and fluffed up
their curls, and arranged their gay attire more trimly ;
and each one was jealous and spiteful of the others.

They did their best to entertain the Knight, and
would gladly have made him one of their company.
To Duessa, also, they were most polite and gracious,
for formerly she had been well known in that court.
But to the knightly eyes of the warrior all the glitter
of the crowd seemed vain and worthless, and he thought

31



The Red Gross Knight

that it was unbefitting so great a queen to treat a
strange knight with such scant courtesy. :
Suddenly, Queen Lucifera rose from her throne, and
called for her coach. Then all was bustle and con-
fusion, every one rushing violently forth. Blazing with
brightness she paced down the hall, like the sun dawn-
ing in the east. All the people thronging the hall
thrust and pushed each other aside to gaze upon her.
Her glorious appearance amazed the eyes of all men.

Her coach was adorned with gold and gay garlands,
and was one of the most splendid carriages ever seen,
but it was drawn by an ugly and ill-matched team. On
every animal rode one of her evil Councillors, who was
much like in nature to the creature that carried him.

The first of these, who guided all the rest, was
Idleness, the nurse of Sin. He chose to ride a sloth-
ful ass; he looked always as if he were half asleep, and
as if he did not know whether it were night or day.
He shut himself away from all care, and shunned manly
exercise, but if there were any mischief to be done he
joined in-it readily. The Queen was indeed badly
served who had Idleness for her leading Councillor.

Next to him came Gluttony, riding ona pig; then
Self-indulgence on a goat, Avarice on a camel, Envy
on a wolf, and Wrath on a lion. Each in his own
way was equally hideous and hateful.

As they went along, crowds of people came round,
shouting for joy; always before them a foggy mist
sprang up, covering all the land, and under their feet
lay the dead bones of men who had wandered from
the right path.

Bo



































“. .. This was drawne of six unequall beasts
On which ber six sage Counsellours did ryde,”
Cc







The House of Pride

So forth they went in this goodly array to enjoy the
fresh air, and to sport in the flowery meadows. Among
the rest, next to the chariot, rode the false Duessa, but
the good Knight kept far apart, not joining in the noisy
mirth which seemed unbefitting a true warrior.

Having enjoyed themselves awhile in the pleasant
fields, they returned to the stately palace. Here they
found that a wandering knight had just arrived. On his
shield, in red letters, was written the name “Sans Joy,”
which means /oyess; and he was the brother of Fazth-
less, whom the Red Cross Knight had slain, and of
Lawless, who had taken Una captive. He looked
sullen and revengeful, as if he had in his mind bitter
and angry thoughts.

When he saw the shield of his slain brother, Faith-
less, in the hands of the Red Cross Knight’s page, he
sprang at him and snatched it away. But the Knight
had no mind to lose the trophy which he had won in
battle, and, attacking him fiercely, he again got pos-
session of it.

Thereupon they hastily began to prepare for battle,
clashing their shields and shaking their swords in the
air. But the Queen, on pain of her severe displeasure,
commanded them to restrain their fury, saying that if
either had a right to the shield, they should fight it
out fairly the next day.

That night was passed in joy and gaiety, feasting
and making merry in bower and hall. The steward
of the court was Gluttony, who poured forth lavishly
of his abundance to all; and then the chamberlain,
Sloth, summoned them to rest.

35)



The Red Cross Knight

The Battle for the Shield

That night, when every one slept, Duessa stole
secretly to the lodgings of the pagan knight Joyless.
She found him wide awake, restless, and troubled,
busily devising how he might annoy his foe. To
him she spoke many untrue words.

“Dear Joyless,” she said, “I am so glad that you
have come. I have passed many sad hours for the sake
of Faithless, whom this traitor slew. He has treated
me very cruelly, keeping me shut up in a dark cave;
but now I will take shelter with you from his disdain-
ful spite. To you belongs the inheritance of your
brother, Faithless. Let him not be unavenged.”

“Fair lady, grieve no more for past sorrows,” said
Joyless; “neither be afraid of present peril, for need-
less fear never profited any one, nor is it any good to
lament over misfortunes that cannot be helped. Faith-
less is dead, his troubles are over; but I live, and I
will avenge him.”

“Oh, but I fear what may happen,” she answered,
‘Cand the advantage is on his side.”

“Why, lady, what advantage can there be when
both fight alike?” asked: Joyless.

“Yes, but he bears a charmed shield,” said Duessa,
“and also enchanted armour that no one can pierce.
None can wound the man that wears them.”

“Charmed or enchanted, I care not at all,” said Joy-
less fiercely, “nor need you tell me anything more about
them. But, fair lady, go back whence you came and

36



The Battle for the Shield

rest awhile. To-morrow I shall subdue the Red Cross
Knight, and give you the heritage of dead Faithless.”











































































“Wherever I am, my secret aid shall follow you,”
she answered, and then she left him.
At the first gleam of dawn the Red Cross Knight
Sy.



Whe Wed Gross mode

sprang up and dressed himself for battle in his sun-
bright armour. Forth he stepped into the halJ, where
there were many waiting to gaze at him, curious to
know what fate was in store for the stranger knight.
Many minstrels were there, making melody to drive
away sadness; many singers that could tune their voices
skilfully to harp and’viol; many chroniclers that could
tell old stories of love and war.

Soon after, came the pagan knight, Joyless, warily
armed in woven mail. He looked sternly at the Red
Cross Knight, who cared not at all how any living
creature looked at him. Cups of wine were brought
to the warriors, with dainty Eastern spices, and they
both swore a solemn oath to observe faithfully the
laws of just and fair fighting.

At last, with royal pomp, came the Queen. She
was led to a railed-in space of the green field, and
placed under a stately canopy. On the other side, full
in all men’s view, sat Duessa, and on a tree near was
hung the shield of Faithless. Both Duessa and the
shield were to be given to the victor.

A shrill trumpet bade them prepare for battle.
The pagan knight was stout and strong, and his blows
fell like great iron hammers. He fought for cruelty
and vengeance. The Red Cross Knight was fierce, and
full of youthful courage; he fought for praise and
honour. So furious was their onslaught that sparks of
fire flew from their shields, and deep marks were hewn
in their helmets.

Thus they fought, the one for wrong, the other for
right, and each tried to put his foe to shame. At last

38



The Battle for the Shield

Joyless chanced to look at his brother’s shield which
was hanging near. The sight of this doubled his anger,
and he struck at his foe with such fury that the Knight
reeled twice, and seemed likely to fall. To those who
looked on, the end of the battle appeared doubtful, and
false Duessa began to call loudly to Joyless, —

“ Thine the shield, and I, and all!’

Directly the Red Cross nee heard her voice he
woke out of the faintness that had overcome him; his
faith, which had grown weak, suddenly became oe
and he shook off the deadly cold that was creeping
over him.

This time he attacked Joyless with such vigour that
he brought himdownupon his knees. Lifting his sword,
he would have slain him, when suddenly a dark cloud fell
between them. Joyless was seen no more; he had van-
ished! The Knight called aloud to him, but received no
answer : his foe was completely hidden by the darkness.

Duessa rose hastily from her place, and ran to the
Red Cross Knight, saying,—-

‘O noblest Knight, be angry no longer! Some
evil power has covered your enemy with the cloud of
night, and borne him away to the regions of darkness.
The conquest is yours, I am yours, the shield and the
glory are yours.’

Then the trumpets sounded, and running heralds
made humble homage, and the shield, the cause of all
the enmity, was brought to the Red Cross Knight.
He went to the Queen, and, kneeling before her, offered
her his service, which she accepted with thanks and
much satisfaction, greatly praising his chivalry.

39





The Red Cross Knight

So they marched home, the Knight next the Queen,
while all the people followed with great glee, shout-
ing and clapping their hands. When they got to the
palace the Knight was given gentle attendants and
skilled doctors, for he had been badly hurt in the fight.
His wounds were washed with wine, and oil, and heal-
ing herbs, and all the while lovely music was played
round his bed to beguile him from grief and pain.

While this was happening, Duessa secretly left the
palace, and stole away to the Kingdom of Darkness,
which is ruled over by the Queen of Night. This
queen was a friend of her own, and was always ready
to help in any bad deeds. Duessa told her of what
had befallen the pagan knight, Joyless, and persuaded
her to carry him away to her owndominions. Here he
was placed under the care of a wonderful doctor, who
was able to cure people by magic, and Duessa hastened
back to the House of Pride.

When she got there she was dismayed to find that
the Red Cross Knight had already left, although he
was not nearly healed from the wounds which he
had received in battle.

The reason why he left was this. One day his
servant, whose name you may remember was Prudence,
came and told him that he had discovered in the palace
a huge, deep dungeon, full of miserable prisoners.
Hundreds of men and women were there, wailing and
lamenting—grand lords and beautiful ladies, who, from
foolish behaviour or love of idle pomp, had wasted
their wealth and fallen into the power of the wicked
Queen of Pride.

40



Una and the Woodland Knight
When the good Red Cross Knight heard this, he

determined to stay no longer in such a place of peril.
Rising before dawn, he left by a small side door, for
he knew that if he were seen he would be at once put to
death. ‘To him the place no more seemed beautiful ;
it filled him with horror and disgust. Riding under
the castle wall, the way was strewn with hundreds of
dead bodies of those who had perished miserably.
Such was the dreadful sight of the House of Pride.

Una and the Woodland Knight

We left Una in a piteous plight, in the hands of a
cruel enemy, the pagan knight Lawless. ,

Paying no heed to her tears and entreaties, he
placed her on his horse, and rode off with her till he
came to a great forest.,

Una was almost in despair, for there seemed no
hope of any rescue. But suddenly there came a
wonderful way of deliverance.

In the midst of the thick wood Lawless halted to
rest. ‘This forest was inhabited by numbers of strange
wild creatures, quite untaught, almost savages. Hear-
ing Una’s cries for help, they came flocking up to see
what was the matter. Their fierce, rough appearance
so frightened Lawless that he jumped on to his horse
and rode away as fast as he could.

When the wild wood-folk came up they found
Una sitting desolate and alone. They were amazed
at such a strange sight, and pitied her sad condition.

41



The Red Cross Knight

They all stood astonished at her loveliness, and could
not imagine how she had come there.

Una, for her part, was greatly terrified, not know-
ing whether some fresh danger awaited her. Half in
fear, half in hope, she sat still in amazement. Seeing
that she looked so sorrowful, the savages tried to show
that they meant to be friendly. They smiled, and came
forward gently, and kissed her feet. Then she guessed
that their hearts were kind, and she arose fearlessly
and went with them, no longer afraid of any evil.

Full of gladness, they led her along, shouting and
singing and dancing round her, and strewing all the
ground with green branches, as if she had been a queen.
Thus they brought her to their chief, old Sylvanus.

When Sylvanus saw her, like the rest he was
astonished at her beauty, for he had never seen any-
thing so fair. Her fame spread through the forest,
and all the other dwellers in it came to look at her.
The Hamadryads, who live in the trees, and the
Naiades, who live in the flowing fountains, all came
flocking to see her lovely face. As for the wood-
landers, henceforth they thought no one on earth fair
but Una.

Glad at such good fortune, Una was quite con-
tented to please the simple folk. She stayed a long
while with them, to gather strength after her many
troubles. During this time she did her best to teach
them, but the poor things were so ignorant, it was
almost impossible to make them understand the differ-
ence between right and wrong.

It chanced one day that a noble knight came to

42



ihe Balse Pilerun

the forest to seek his kindred who dwelt there. He
had won much glory in wars abroad, and distant lands
were filled with his fame. He was honest, faithful,
and true, though not very polished in manner, nor
accustomed to a courtly life. His name was Sir Saty-
rane. He had been born and brought up in the forest,
and his father had taught him nothing but to be utterly
fearless. When he grew up, and could master every-
thing in the forest, he went abroad to fight foreign foes,
and his fame was soon carried through all lands. It
was always his custom, after some time spent in labour
and adventure, to return for a while to his native
woods, and so it happened on this occasion that he
came across Una.

The first time he saw her she was surrounded by
the savages, whom she was trying to teach good and
holy things. Sir Satyrane wondered at the wisdom
which fell from her sweet lips, and when, later on, he
saw her gentle and kindly deeds, he began to admire
and love her. Although noble at heart, he had never
had any one to teach him, but now he began to learn
from Una faith and true religion.

The False Pilgrim

Una’s thoughts were still fixed on the Red Cross
Knight, and she was sorry to think of his perilous
wandering. She was always sad at heart, and spent
her time planning how to escape. At last she told
her wish to Sir Satyrane, who, glad to please her in

43



The Red Cross Knight

any way, began to devise how he could help her to get
free from the savage folk. One day, when Una was
left alone, all the woodlanders having gone to pay
court to their chief, old Sylvanus, she and Sir Satyrane
rode away together. They went so fast and so care-
fully that no one could overtake them, and thus at
last they came to the end of the forest, and out into
the open plain.

Towards evening, after they had journeyed a long
distance, they met a traveller. He seemed as if he
were a poor, simple pilgrim; his clothes were dusty
and travel-worn; his face brown and scorched with
the sun; he leant upon a staff, and carried all his neces-
saries in a scrip, or little bag, hanging behind.

Sir Satyrane asked if there were any tidings of new
adventures, but the stranger had heard of none. ‘Then
Una began to ask if he knew anything about a knight
who wore on his shield a red cross.

“Alas! dear lady,” he replied, ‘I may well grieve
to tell you the sad news! I have seen that knight with
my own eyes, both alive and also dead.”

When Una heard these cruel words she was filled
-with sorrow and dismay, and begged the pilgrim to tell
her everything he knew.

Then he related how*on that very morning he had
seen two knights preparing for battle. One was a
pagan, the other was the Red Cross Knight. They
fought with great fury, and in the end the Red Cross
Knight was slain.

This story was altogether false. The pretended
pilgrim was no other than the wicked enchanter

44





i hi | Bei
W N ig il ;
shad ify \e RAR

\ Ae A \. 6 4,



mm



“ The ‘knight, approaching nigh, of bim inquired
Tidings of warre, and of adventures new.”
















Giant Pride

Archimago, or Hypocrisy, in a fresh disguise. But Sir
Satyrane and Una believed everything he told them.

“Where is this pagan now?” asked Satyrane.

“Not far from here,” replied the pilgrim; “I
left him resting beside a fountain.”

Thereupon Sir Satyrane hastily marched off, and
soon came to the place where he guessed that the
other would be found. This pagan knight turned
out to be Lawless, from whom, you may remember,
Una had escaped in the forest, before she was found
by the woodlanders. Sir Satyrane challenged Law-
less to fight, and they were soon engaged in a fierce
battle. Poor Una was so terrified at this new peril,
and in such dread of Lawless, that she did not wait
to see what the end would be, but fled far away as
fast as she could.

Archimago had been watching everything from a
secret hiding-place. Now, when he saw Una escaping,
he quickly followed, for he hoped to be able to work
her some further mischief.

Giant Pride

When Duessa found that the Red Cross Knight had
left the palace of Queen Lucifera, she immediately set
out in search of him. It was not long before she found
him where he sat wearily by the side of a fountain to
rest himself. He had taken off all his armour, and his
steed was cropping the grass close by. It was pleasant
in the cool shade, and the soft wind blew refreshingly

47



The Red Cross Knight




upon his forehead,
while, in the trees
above, numbers of
singing birds de-
lighted him with
their sweet music.

Duessa at first
pretended to be
angry with the
Knight for leaving
her so unkindly, but
they were soon good
friends again. They
stayed for some time
beside the fountain, where the green boughs sheltered
them from the scorching heat.

But although it looked so lovely and tempting,
the fountain near which they sat was an enchanted one.
Whoever tasted its waters grew faint and feeble.

The Knight, not knowing this, stooped down to
drink of the stream, which was as clear as crystal. Then

48



Giant Pride

all his strength turned to weakness, his courage melted
away, and a deadly chill crept over him.

At first he scarcely noticed the change, for he had
grown careless both of himself and of his fame. But
suddenly he heard a dreadful sound—a loud bellowing
which echoed through the wood. The earth seemed
to shake with terror, and all the trees trembled. The
Knight, astounded, started up, and tried to seize his
weapons. But before he could put on his armour, or get
his shield, his monstrous enemy came stalking into sight.

It was a hideous Giant, great and horrible. The
ground groaned under him. He was taller than three
of the tallest men put together. His name was
Orgoglio, or Pride, and his father’s name was lgnor-
ance. We was puffed up with arrogance and conceit,
and because he was so big and strong he despised every
one else. He leant upon a gnarled oak, which he had
torn up by its roots from the earth; it also served
him as a weapon to dismay his foemen.

When he saw the Knight he advanced to him with
dreadful fury. The latter, quite helpless, all in vain
tried to prepare for battle. Disarmed, disgraced, in-
wardly dismayed, and faint in every limb, he could
scarcely wield even his useless blade. The Giant aimed
such a merciless stroke at him, that if it had touched
him it would have crushed him to powder. But the
Knight leapt lightly to one side, and thus escaped the
blow. So great, however, was the wind that the club
made in whirling through the air that the Knight was
overthrown, and Jay on the ground stunned.

When Giant Pride saw his enemy lying helpless, he

49 D



The Red Cross Knight

lifted up his club to kill him, but Duessa called to
him to stay his hand.

“O great Orgoglio,” she cried, ‘spare him for my
sake, and do not kill him. Now that he is vanquished
make him your bond-slave, and, if you like, I will be
your wife!”

Giant Pride was quite pleased with this arrangement,
and, taking up the Red Cross Knight before he could
awake from his swoon, he carried him hastily to his
castle, and flung him, without pity, into a deep dungeon.

As for Duessa, from that day forth she was treated
with the greatest honour. She was given gold and
purple to wear, and a triple crown was placed upon her
head, and every one had to obey her as if she were a
queen. To make her more dreaded, Orgoglio gave
her a hideous dragon to ride. This dragon had seven
heads, with gleaming eyes, and its body seemed made
of iron and brass. Everything good that came within
its reach it swept away with a great long tail, and then
trampled under foot.

All the people’s hearts were filled with terror when
they saw Duessa riding on her dragon.

Prince Arthur

When the Red Cross Knight was made captive by
Giant Pride and carried away, Prudence, his servant,
who had seen his master’s fall, sorrowfully collected his
forsaken possessions—his mighty armour, missing when
most needed, his silver shield, now idle and masterless,

50



Prince Arthur

his sharp spear that had done good service in many a
fray. With these he departed to tell his sad tale.

He had not gone far when he met Una, flying
from the scene of battle, while Sir Satyrane hindered
Lawless from pursuing her. When she saw Prudence
carrying the armour of the Red Cross Knight, she
guessed something terrible had happened, and fell to
the ground as if she were dying of sorrow.

Unhappy Prudence would gladly have died himself,
but he did his best to restore Una to life. When she
had recovered she implored him to tell her what had
occurred.

Then the dwarf told her everything that had taken
place since they parted. How the crafty Archimago
had deceived the Red Cross Knight by his wiles, and
made him believe that Una had left him; how the
Knight had slain Faithless and had taken pity on Duessa
because of the false tales she told. Prudence also told
Una all about the House of Pride and its perils; he
described the fight which the Knight had with Joyless,
and lastly, he told about the luckless conflict with the
great Giant Pride, when the Knight was made captive,
whether living or dead he knew not.

Una listened patiently, and bravely tried to master
her sorrow, which almost broke her heart, for she dearly
loved the Red Cross Knight, for whose sake she had
borne so many troubles. At last she rose, quite resolved
to find him, alive or dead. The dwarf pointed out the
way by which Giant Pride had carried his prisoner, and
Una started on her quest. Long she wandered, through
woods and across valleys, high over hills, and low

Si



The Red Cross Knight

among the dales, tossed by storms and beaten by the
wind, but still keeping steadfast to her purpose.

At last she chanced by good fortune to meet a
knight, marching with his squire. This knight was
the most glorious she had ever seen. His glittering
armour shone far off, like the glancing light of the
brightest ray of sunshine; it covered him from top to
toe, and left no place unguarded. Across his breast he
wore a splendid belt, covered with jewels that sparkled
like stars. Among the jewels was one of great value,
which shone with such brilliancy that it amazed all who
beheld it. Close to this jewel hung the knight’s sword,
in an ivory sheath, carved with curious devices. The
hilt was of burnished gold, the handle of mother-of-
pearl, and it was buckled on with a golden clasp.

The helmet of this knight was also of gold, and for
crest it had a golden dragon with wings. On the top of
all was a waving plume, decked with sprinkled pearls,
which shook and danced in every little breath of wind.

The shield of the warrior was closely covered, and
might never be seen by mortal eye. It was not made
of steel nor of brass, but of one perfect and entire
diamond. This had been hewn out of the adamant
rock with mighty engines; no point of spear could ever
pierce it, nor dint of sword break it asunder.

This shield the knight never showed to mortals,
unless he wished to dismay some huge monster or to
frighten large armies that fought unfairly against him.
No magic arts nor enchanter’s spell had any power
against it. Everything that was not exactly what it
seemed to be faded before it and fell to ruin.

BD,



Prince Arthur

The maker of the shield was supposed to be
Merlin, a mighty magician; he made it with the
sword and armour for this young prince when the
latter first took to arms.

_ The name of the knight was Prince Arthur, type
of all Virtue and Magnificence, and pattern of all true
Knighthood.

His squire bore after him his spear of ebony wood ;
he was a gallant and noble youth, who managed his
fiery steed with much skill and courage.

When Prince Arthur came near Una, he greeted
her with much courtesy. By her unwilling answers he
guessed that some secret sorrow was troubling her, and
he hoped that his gentle and kindly words would
persuade her to tell him the cause of her grief.

‘What good will it do to speak of it?” said Una.
‘When I think of my sorrow it seems to me better
to keep it hidden than to make it worse by speaking of
Ait Nothing in the world can lighten my misfortunes.
My last comfort is to be left alone to weep for them.”

“Ah, dear lady,” said the gentle Knight, “I know
well that your grief is great, for it makes me sad even
to hear you speak of it. But let me entreat you to
tell me what is troubling you. Misfortunes may be
overcome by good advice, and wise counsel will lessen
the worst injury. He who never tells of his hurts will
never find help.”

His words were so kind and reasonable that-Una
was soon persuaded to tell him her whole story. She
began with the time when she had gone to the Court
of Queen Gloriana to seek a champion to release her

13



The Red Cross Knight

parents from the horrible dragon, and ended with the
account of how the Red Cross Knight had fallen a prey
to Giant Pride, who now held him captive in a dark
dungeon.

“Truly, lady, you have much cause to grieve,” said
Prince Arthur when the story was finished. ‘‘ But be of
good cheer, and take comfort. Rest assured I will never
forsake you until I have set free your captive Knight.”

His cheerful words revived Una’s drooping heart,
and so they set forth on their journey, Prudence guiding
them in the right way.

The Wondrous Bugle and the Mighty Shield

Badly indeed would it now have fared with the Red
Cross Knight had it not been for the Lady Una. Even
good people daily fall into sin and temptation, but as
often as their own foolish pride or weakness leads them
astray, so often will Divine love and care rescue them,
if only they repent of their misdoings. ‘Thus we see
how Holiness, in the guise of the Red Cross Knight,
was for a while cast down and defeated; yet in the end,
because he truly repented) help was given him to fight
again and conquer.

Prince Arthur and the Lady Una travelled till they
came to a castle which was built very strong and high.

“Lo,” cried the dwarf, ‘‘ yonder is the place where
my unhappy master is held captive by that cruel
tyrant!”

The Prince at once dismounted, and bade Una stay

54



The Wondrous Bugle

to see what would happen. He marched with his
squire to the castle walls, where he found the gates
shut fast. There was no warder to guard them, nor
to answer to the call of any who came.

Then the squire took a small bugle which hung at
- his side with twisted gold and gay tassels. Wonderful
stories were told about that bugle; every one trembled
with dread at its shrill sound. It could easily be heard
three miles off, and whenever it was blown it echoed
three times. No false enchantment or deceitful snare
could stand before the terror of that blast. No gate
was so strong, no lock so firm and fast, but at that
piercing noise it flew open or burst.

This was the bugle which Prince Arthur’s squire
blew before the gate of Giant Pride. Then the whole
castle quaked, and every door flew open. The Giant

himself, dismayed at the sound, came rushing forth in-

haste from an inner bower, to see what was the reason

of this sudden uproar, and to discover who had dared ©

to brave his power. After him came Duessa, riding on
her dragon with the seven heads; every head had a
crown on it, and a fiery tongue of flame.

When Prince Arthur saw Giant Pride, he took his
mighty shield and flew at him fiercely ; the Giant lifted
up his club to smite him, but the Prince leaped to one
side, and the weapon, missing him, buried itself with such
force in the ground, that the Giant could not quickly
pull it out again. Then with his sharp sword Prince
Arthur struck at the Giant, and wounded him severely.

Duessa, seeing her companion’s danger, urged for-
ward her dragon to help him, but the brave squire sprang

5



The Red Cross Knight

in between it and the Prince, and with his drawn sword
drove it back. ‘Then the angry Duessa took a golden
cup, which she always carried, and which was full of a
secret poison. ‘Those who drank of that cup either died,
or else felt despair seize them. She lightly sprinkled
the squire with the contents of this cup, and immedi-
ately his courage faded away, and he was filled with
sudden dread. He fell down before the cruel dragon,
' who seized him with its claws, and nearly crushed the
life out of him. He had no power nor will to stir.

When Prince Arthur saw what had happened, he
left Giant Pride and turned against the dragon, for he
was deeply grieved to see his beloved squire in such peril.
He soon drove back the horrible creature, but now once
again the Giant rushed at him with his club, This time
the blow struck the Prince with such force, that it bore
him to the ground. In the fall, his shield, that had been
covered, lost by chance its veil, and flew open.

Then through the air flashed such a blazing bright-
ness, that no eye could bear to look upon it. Grant
Pride let fall the weapon with which he was just going
to slay the Prince, and the dragon was struck blind,
and tumbled on the ground.

“Oh, help, Orgoglio, help, or we all perish!” cried
Duessa.

Gladly would Giant Pride have helped her, but all
was in vain; when that light shone he had no power
to hurt others, nor to defend himself ; so Prince Arthur

soon killed him.
When he was dead, his great body, that had seemed
so big and strong, suddenly melted away, and nothing
56



The Wondrous Bugle

was left but what looked like the shrivelled skin of a”
broken balloon; for, after all, there was no real sub-

stance in him, but he was simply puffed out with empti-

ness and conceit, and his grand appearance was nothing

but a sham.

So that was the end of Giant Pride.

When false Duessa saw the fall of Giant Pride she
flung down her golden cup, and threw aside her crown,
and fled away. But the squire followed, and soon took
her prisoner. Telling him to keep safe guard on her,
Prince Arthur boldly entered the Giant’s Castle. Not
a living creature could he spy; he called loudly, but
no one answered; a solemn silence reigned everywhere,
not a voice was to be heard, not a person seen, in
bower or hall.

At last an old, old man, with beard as white as
snow, came creeping along; he guided his feeble steps
with a staff, for long ago his sight had failed. On his
arm he bore a bunch of keys, all covered with rust. They
were the keys of all the doors inside the castle; they
were never used, but he still kept possession of them.

It was curious to see the way in which this old man
walked, for always, as he went forward, he kept his
wrinkled face turned back, as if he were trying to
look behind. He was the keeper of the place, and
the father of the dead Giant Pride; his name was
Lenorance.

Prince Arthur, as was fitting, honoured his grey
hair and gravity, and gently asked him where all the
people were who used to live in that stately building.
The old man softly answered him that he could not

57



The Red Cross Knight

tell, Again the Prince asked where was the Knight
whom the Giant had taken captive?

**T cannot tell,” said the old man.

Then the Prince asked which was the way into the
castle, and again he got the same answer, ‘I cannot
tell.”

At first he thought the man was mocking him, and
began to be much displeased. But presently, seeing
that the poor old thing could not help his foolishness,
he wisely calmed his anger. Going up to. him he took
the keys from his arm, and made an entrance for him-
self. He opened each door without the least difficulty ;
there was no one to challenge him, nor any bars to
hinder his passage.

Inside the castle he found the whole place fitted
up in the most splendid manner, decked with royal
tapestry, and shining with gold, fit for the presence of
the greatest prince. But all the floors were dirty, and
strewn with ashes, for it was here that the wicked
Giant Pride used to slay his unhappy victims.

Prince Arthur sought through every room, but
nowhere could he find the Red Cross Knight. At last
he came to an iron door, which was fast locked, but
- he found no key among the bunch to open it. In the
door, however, there was a little grating, and through
this the Prince called as loudly as he could, to know
if there were any living person shut up there whom he
could set free.

Then there came a hollow voice in answer. ‘‘ Oh,
who is that who brings to me the happy choice of
death? Here I lie, dying every hour, yet still compelled

58











“Wbome when bis Lady saw, to bim she tan
Wlith basty joy: to sce bim made ber glad,
Fund sad to view bis visage pale and wan.”







The Wondrous Bugle

to live, bound in horrible darkness. Three months
have come and gone since I beheld the light of day.
Oh, welcome, you who bring true tidings of death.” -

When Prince Arthur heard these words his heart
was so filled with pity and horror at any noble knight
being thus shamefully treated, that, in his strength and
indignation, he rent open the iron door. But entering,
he found no floor; there was a deep descent, as dark
as a pit, from which came up a horrible deadly smell.

Neither darkness, however, nor dirt, nor poisonous
smell could turn the Prince from his purpose, and he
went forward courageously. With great trouble and
difficulty he found means to raise the captive, whose
own limbs were too feeble to bear him, and then he
‘carried him out of the castle.

What a mournful picture was now the Red Cross
Knight! His dull, sunken eyes could not bear the
unaccustomed. light of the sun ; his cheeks were thin
and gaunt; his mighty arms, that had fought so often
and so bravely, were nothing now but bones; all his
strength was gone, and all his flesh shrunk up like a
withered flower.

When Una saw Prince Arthur carrying the Red
Cross Knight out of the castle she ran to them joy-
fully; it made her glad even to see the Knight, but
she was full of sorrow at the sight of his pale, wan
face, which had formerly been radiant with the glory
of youth.

““My dearest lord,” she cried, “what evil star has’
frowned on you and changed you thus? But welcome —

now, in weal or woe, my dear lord whom I have lost
61



The Red Cross Knight

too long! Fate, who has been our foe so long, will
injure us no further, but shall pay penance with three-
fold good for all these wrongs.”

The unhappy man, dazed with misery, had no
desire to speak of his troubles; his long-endured
famine needed more relief.

“Fair lady,” then said the victorious Prince,
‘things that were grievous to do or to bear it brings
no pleasure to recall. The only good that comes from
past danger is to make us wiser and more careful ‘for
the future. This day’s example has deeply written this
lesson on my heart—perfect happiness can never be
lasting while we still live on earth.

“ Henceforth, Sir Knight,” he continued, “take to
yourself your old strength, and master these mishaps
by patience. Look where your foe lies vanquished,
and the wicked woman, Duessa, the cause of all your
misery, stands in your power, to let her live or die.”

“To kill her would be to act unworthily,” said
Una, ‘‘and it would be a shame to avenge one’s self
on such a weak enemy. But take off her scarlet robe
and let her fly!”

So they did as Una bade them. They took from
Duessa all her finery—her royal robe, and purple cloak,
and all the rich ornaments with which she was decked.
And when this disguise was taken from her, they saw
her as she really was—old, and ugly, and bad. She
would no longer be able to deceive people by her pre-
tended goodness, and youth, and beauty, for every one
who saw her shrunk away in horror.

“Such,” said Una, “is the face of Falsehood when
62



The Knight with Hempen Rope

its borrowed light is laid aside, and all its deceitfulness
is made known.”

Thus, having taken from Duessa her power to work
evil, they set her free to go-where she pleased. She
fled to a barren wilderness, where she lurked unseen in
rocks and caves, for she always hated the light.

But Prince Arthur, and the Red Cross Knight, and
fair Una stayed for awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, to
rest themselves and to recover their strength. And here
they found a goodly store of all that was dainty and rare.

The Knight with the Hempen Rope

When the two Knights and the Lady Una had
rested awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, they set out
again on their journey. Before they parted, Prince
Arthur and the Red Cross Knight gave each other
beautiful gifts—tokens of love and friendship. Prince
Arthur gave a box of adamant, embossed with gold,
and richly ornamented ; in it were enclosed a few drops
of a precious liquid of wonderful power, which would
immediately'heal any wound. In return the Red Cross
Knight gave the Prince a Bible, all written with golden
letters, rich and beautiful.

Thus they parted, Prince Arthur to go about his
own work, and the Knight to fight the terrible Dragon
that was laying waste the kingdom that belonged to
Una’s father and mother. But she, seeing how thin
and ill her champion looked, and knowing that he was
still weak and weary, would not hasten forward, nor

63



The Red Cross Knight

let him run the chance of any further fighting, until
he had recovered his former strength.

As they travelled, they presently saw an armed.
knight galloping towards them. It seemed as though
_ he were flying from a dreaded foe, or some other grisly

thing. As he fled, his eyes kept looking backwards as
if the object of his terror were pursuing him, and his
horse flew as if it had wings to its feet.

When he came nearer they saw that his head was
bare, his hair almost standing on end with fright, and
his face very pale. Round his neck was a hempen
rope, suiting ill with his glittering armour.

The Red Cross Knight rode up to him, but could
scarcely prevail upon him to stop.

“Sir Knight,” he said, “pray tell us who hath
arrayed you like this, and from whom you are flying,
for never saw I warrior in so unseemly a plight.”

The stranger seemed dazed with fear, and at first
answered nothing; but after the gentle Knight had
spoken to him several times, at last he replied with
faltering tongue, and trembling in every limb: “I
beseech you, Sir Knight, do not stop me, for lo! he
comes—he comes fast after me!”

With that he again tried to run away, but the Red
Cross Knight prevented him, and tried to persuade him
to say what was the matter.

“Am I really safe from him who would have
forced me to die?” said the stranger. “May I tell
my luckless story?”

“Fear nothing,” said the Knight; “no danger is
near now.”

64





“o as they traveild, lo! they gan espy
Fn armed knight towards them gallop tast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing that bim agbast.”

E







The Knight with Hempen Rope

Then the stranger told how he and another knight
had lately been companions. The name of his friend
was Sir Terwin. He was bold and brave, but because
everything did not go exactly as he wished, he was not
happy. One day when they were feeling very sad and
comfortless, they met a man whose name was Despazr.
Greeting them in a friendly fashion, Despair soon con-
trived to find out from them what they were feeling,
and then he went on to make the worst of everything.
He told them there was no hope that things would get
any better, and tried to persuade them to put an end
to all further trouble by killing themselves. ‘To Sir
Terwin he lent a rusty knife, and to the other knight
a rope. Sir Terwin, who was really very unhappy,
killed himself at once; but Sir Trevisan, dismayed at
the sight, fled fast away, with the rope still round his
neck, half dead with fear.

“May you never hear the tempting speeches of
Despair,” he ended.

“‘ How could idle talking persuade a man to put
an end to his life?” said the Red Cross Knight. He
was ready to despise the danger, and he trusted in his
own strength to withstand it.

“‘7 know,” said the stranger, ‘‘for trial has lately
taught me; nor would I go through the like again for
the world’s wealth. His cunning, like sweetest honey,
drops into the heart, and all else is forgotten. Before
one knows it, all power is secretly stolen, and only
weakness remains. Oh, sir, do not wish ever to meet
with Despair.”

“Truly,” said the Red Cross Knight, “I shall

67



The Red Cross Knight

never rest till I have heard what the traitor has to
say for himself. And, Sir Knight, I beg of you, as
a favour, to guide me to his cabin.”

“To do you a favour, I will ride back with you
against my will,” said Sir Trevisan; “but not for gold,
nor for anything else will I remain with you when you
arrive at the place. I would rather die than see his
deadly face again.”

In the Cave of Despair

Sir Trevisan and the Red Cross Knight soon came
to the place where Despair had his dwelling. It was
in a hollow cave, far underneath a craggy cliff, dark
and dreary. On the top always perched a melancholy
owl, shrieking his dismal note, which drove all cheerful
birds far away. All around were dead and withered
trees, on which no fruit nor leaf ever grew.

When they arrived, Sir Trevisan would have fled
in terror, not daring to go near, but the Red Cross
Knight forced him to stay, and soothed his fears.

They entered the gloomy cave, where they found a
miserable man sitting on the ground, musing sullenly.
He had greasy, unkempt locks, and dull and hollow
eyes, and his cheeks were thin and shrunken, as if he
never got enough to eat. His garment was nothing
but rags, all patched, and pinned together with thorns.
“At his side lay the dead body of Sir Terwin, just as
Sir Trevisan had told.

When the Red Cross Knight saw this sad sight, all

68









“ ve long they come where that same wicked wight
‘bis dwelling bas, [ow in a bollow cave,
For underneath a craggy cliff yppight,
Datk, Ooleful, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave,”







Full Text









2:
5
:
o
g









Gtur.s bres (Pay

WH Cre from POR: Le Moohe .
Stories from the

Faerie Queene


“Sbe nigher drew, and saw that joyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt ber taithtull night

That bad atchievde so great a conquest by bis might.”
—Page 36.



D

ee Peep sae
W STORIES Fito THE WE

AERIE QUBENE,

\

ent



ay MAR AGLEOE
akel De Se WES ARS Ceo
bows FS a SS
oe ;

oie inyeenvertion By

som Chl —



s \
3 /
u
Drawines BY
AG WALKER. Sculptor:

LONPON:

&e =
GARNER, DART os So

A. PATERIVOSTER





Introduction

HE object of this volume is to excite interest

in one of the greatest poems of English litera-
ture, which for all its greatness is but little read and
known—to excite this interest not only in young per-
sons who are not yet able to read “The Faerie Queene,”
with its archaisms of language, its distant ways and
habits of life and thought, its exquisite melodies that
only a cultivated ear can catch and appreciate, but
also in adults, who, not from the lack of ability, but
because they shrink from a little effort, suffer the
loss of such high and refined literary pleasure as the

perusal of Spenser’s masterpiece can certainly give.
vil
Introduction

Assuredly, when all that cavillers can say or do is
said and done, ‘‘The Faerie Queene” is deservedly
called one of the greatest poems of English literature.
From the high place it took, and took with acclama-
tion, when it first appeared, it has, in fact, never been
deposed. It has many defects and imperfections, such
as the crudest and most commonplace critic can dis-
cover, and has discovered with much self-complacency ;
but it has beauties and perfections that such critics
very often fail to see; and, so far as the status of
“The Faerie Queene” is concerned, it is enough for
the ordinary reader to grasp the significant fact that
Spenser has won specially for himself the famous
title of “the poets’ poet.” Ever since his star ap-
peared above the horizon, wise men from all parts
have come to worship it; and amongst these devotees
fellow-poets have thronged with a wonderful enthu-
siasm. In one point all the poetic schools of England
have agreed together, viz., in admiration for Spenser.
From Milton and Wordsworth on the one hand to
Dryden and Pope—from the one extreme of English
poetry to the other—has prevailed a perpetual reverence
for Spenser. The lights in his temple, so to speak,
have never been extinguished—never have there been
wanting offerers of incense and of praise; and, to
repeat in other words what has already been said, as
it is what we wish to specially emphasise, amidst this
faithful congregation have been many who already
had or were some day to have temples of their own.
We recognise amongst its members not only the great

poets already mentioned, but many others of the
vill
Introduction

divine brotherhood, some at least of whom rank with
the greatest, such as Keats, Shelley, Sidney, Gray,
Byron, the Fletchers, Henry More, Raleigh, Thomson,
not to name Beattie, Shenstone, Warton, Barnefield,
Peele, Campbell, Drayton, Cowley, Prior, Akenside,
Roden Noel. To this long but by no means exhaus-
tive list might be added many of high eminence in
other departments of literature and of life, as Gibbon,
Mackintosh, Hazlitt, Craik, Lowell, Ruskin, R. W.
Church, and a hundred more.

Now, of course, the acceptance of a poet is and
must be finally due to his own intrinsic merits. No
amount of testimonials from ever so highly distin-
guished persons will make a writer permanently popu-
lar if he cannot make himself so—if his own works
do not make him so. Of testimonials there is very
naturally considerable distrust—very naturally, when
we notice what second-rate penmen have been and are
cried up to the skies. But in the present case the
character of the testifiers is to be carefully considered ;
and, secondly, not only their words but their actions
are to be taken into account. Many of our greatest
poets have praised Spenser not only in formal phrases,
but practically and decisively, by surrendering them-
selves to his influence, by sitting at his feet, by taking
hints and suggestions from him. He has been their
master not merely nominally but actually, and with
obvious results. If all traces of Spenser’s fascination
and power could be removed from subsequent English
literature, that literature would be a very different

thing from what it is: there would be strange breaks
1X
Introduction

and blanks in many a volume, hiatuses in many a
line, an altered turning of many a sentence, a modifi-
cation of many a conception and fancy. And we are
convinced that the more Spenser is studied the more
remarkable will his dominance and his dominion be
found to be. To quote lines that have been quoted
before in this connection—
“‘ Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their urns draw golden light.”

“The Faerie Queene” is one of the great well-
heads of English poetry; or, in other words, Spenser’s
Faerie Land has been and is a favourite haunt of all
our highest poetic spirits.

And yet it is incontrovertible that this poem is
very little known as a whole to most people. Every-
body is familiar with the story of Una and the
Lion, and with two or three stanzas of singular
beauty in other parts of ‘‘ The Faerie Queen,” because
these occur in most or all books of selections: in
every anthology occur those fairest flowers. But the
world at large is content to know no more. ‘The size
of the poem appals it. ‘A big book is a big evil,” it
thinks, and it shudders at the idea of perusing the
six twelve-cantoed books in which Spenser’s genius
expressed itself—expressed itself only in an incom-
plete and fragmentary fashion, for many more books
formed part of his enormous design. ‘‘Of the persons
who read the first canto,” says Macaulay in a famous
Essay, ‘“‘not one in ten reaches the end of the First
Book, and not one in a hundred perseveres to the end
of the poem. Very few and very weary are those who

x
Introduction

are in at the death of the Blatant Beast. If the last
six books, which are said [without any authority] to
have been destroyed in Ireland, had been preserved,
we doubt whether any heart less stout than that of a
commentator would have held out to the end.” And
Macaulay speaks truly as well as wittily. He is as
accurate as Poins when Prince Hal asks him what he
would think if the Prince wept because the King his
father was sick. ‘‘I would think thee a most princely
hypocrite,” replies Poins. ‘‘It would be every man’s
thought,” says the Prince: ‘and thou art a blessed
fellow to think as every man thinks. Never a man’s
thought in the world keeps the roadway better than
thine.” Even so is Macaulay ‘“‘a blessed fellow to
think as every man thinks,” and no doubt his blessed-
ness in this respect is one of the characteristics—by
no means the only one—that account for his wide-
spread popularity. He not only states that people
do not sead ‘‘ The Faerie Queen,” but he shows that
he himself, voracious reader—hel/uo Librorum—as he
was, had not done so, or had done so very carelessly ;
for, alas! the Blatant Beast, as at all events every
student of the present volume will know, does not
die; Sir Calidore only suppresses him for a time; he
but temporarily ties and binds him in an iron chain,
“and makes him follow him like a fearful dog;” and
one day long afterwards the beast got loose again —

“Ne ever could by any, more be brought
Into like bands, ne.maystred any more,
Albe that, long time after Calidore,

The good Sir Pelleas him tooke in hand,

xi
Introduction

And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore,
And all his brethren borne in Britaine land ;
Yet none of them could ever bring him into band.

«So now he raungeth through the world againe,
And rageth sore in cach degree and state ;
Ne any is that may him now restraine,
He growen is so great and strong of late,
Barking and biting all that him doe bate,
Albe they worthy blame; or clear of crime ;
Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate,
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime ;

But rends without regard of person or of time.””

And Spenser goes on to declare that even his “homely
verse of many meanest” cannot hope to escape “ his
venemous despite;” for, in his own day, as often
since, Spenser by no means found favour with every-
body. Clearly even Macaulay’s memory of the close of
“ The Faerie Queene” was sufficiently hazy. But even
Milton, to whom Spenser was so congenial a spirit,
and whom he acknowledged as his ‘“ poetical father,”
on one occasion at least forgets the details of the
Spenserian story. When insisting in the Areopagitica
that true virtue is not “a fugitive and cloistered
virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies
out and sees her adversary,” but a virtue that has
been tried and tested, he remarks that this “‘ was the
reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser, whom
I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus
or Aquinas, describing true temperance under the
person of Guion, brings him in with his Palmer

through the cave of Mammon and the bower of
XL =
Introduction

earthly bliss, that he may see, and know, and yet
abstain.” But the Palmer was not with Sir Guyon in
the Cave of Mammon, Phedria having declined to
ferry him over to her floating island. See “ The
Faerie Queene,” ii. 6, 19: —

«‘ Himselfe [Sir Guyon] she tooke aboord,
But the Black Palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price or prayers once affoord
To ferry that old man over the perlous foord.

“«‘ Guyon was loath to leave his guide behind,
Yet being entred might not back retyre ;
For the flitt barke, obeying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly as she did desire,
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire

Adieu.”

So Macaulay’s lapse must not be regarded too
severely, though, as may be seen, much more promi-
nence is given by Spenser to the fact that the Blatant
Beast was not killed, than to the absence of the
Palmer from Guyon’s side in Mammon’s House. It
seems probable, indeed, that Macaulay mixed up the
fate of the Dragon in the eleventh canto of the First
Book with that of the Blatant Beast in the twelfth of
the Sixth. But we mention these things only to pre-
vent any surprise at the general ignorance of Spenser,
when such a confirmed book-lover as Macaulay, and
such a devoted Spenserian as Milton, are found tripping
in their allusions to his greatest work.

Now this ignorance, however explicable, is, we

think, to be regretted. A poet of such splendid attri-’
X11]
Introduction

butes, and with such a choice company of followers,
surely deserves to be better known than he is by “ the
general reader’; and we trust that this volume may
be of service in making the stories of “The Faerie
Queene” more familiar, and so in tempting the general
reader to turn to Spenser’s own version of them, and
to appreciate his amazing affluence of language, of
melody, and of fancy.

Clearly, Spenser does not appeal to everybody at
first; we mean that to enjoy him fully needs some
little effort to begin with—some distinct effort to put
ourselves in communication with him, so to. speak;
for he is far away from us in many respects. His
costume and his accent are very different from ours.
He does not seem to be of us or of our world. ‘‘ His
soul” is ‘‘like a star”: it dwells ‘‘apart.” We have,
it would appear at first sight, nothing in common with
him: he moves all alone in a separate sphere—he is
not of our flesh and blood. What strikes us at first
sight is a certain artificiality and elaborateness, as we
think. We cannot put ourselves on confidential terms
with him; he is too stately and poznt devise. His
art rather asserts than conceals itself to persons who
merely glance at him. But these impressions will be
largely or altogether removed, 2f ¢he reader will
really read “ The Faerie Queene.” He will nolonger
think of its author as a mere phrase-monger, or only
a dainty melodist, or the master of a superfine ‘style.
He will find himself in communion with a man of
high intellect, of a noble nature—of great attraction,

not only for his humanism, but for his humanity. To
xiv
Introduction

Spenser, Wordsworth’s lines in “A Poet’s Epitaph”
may be applied with particular and profound truth :—

‘“‘ He is retired as noontide dew,
Or fountain in a noonday grove;
And you must love him ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.”

The very opulence of Spenser’s genius stands in
the way of his due appraisement. ‘There can scarcely
be a doubt that if he could have restrained the re-
dundant stream. of his poetry, he might have been
more worthily recognised. Had he written less, he
would have been praised more; as it is, with many
readers, mole ruit sua: they are overpowered and
bewildered by the immense flood. The waters of
Helicon seem a torrent deluge. We say his popu-
larity would have been greater, if he could have
restrained and controlled this amazing outflow; but,
after all, we must take our great poets as we find
them. In this very abundance, as in other ways,
Spenser was a child of his age, and we must accept
him with all his faults as well as with all his excellences.
Both faults and excellences are closely inter-connected.
Ll a les défauts de ses qualites.

He said that Chaucer was his poetical master, and
more than once he mentions Chaucer with the most
generous admiration :—

‘Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,
On Fames eternal beadroll worthy to be fyled.”’

«That old Dan Geffrey, in whose gentle spright
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell,”
XV
Introduction

And Chaucer too may be said to suffer from a very
plethora of wealth. Chaucer is apt to be super-
abundant ; but yet he was a model of self-restraint:
as compared with Spenser. One cannot say in this
case, ‘‘ Like master, like man,” or, “ Like father, like
son.” Their geniuses are entirely different — a fact
which makes Spenser’s devotion to Chaucer all the
more noticeable and interesting; and the art of the
one is in sharp contrast with the art of the other.
Chaucer is a masterly tale-teller: no one in all English
poetry equals him in this faculty; he is as supreme
in it as Shakespeare in the department of the drama.
In his tales Chaucer is, ‘‘ without o’erflowing, full.”
The conditions under which they were told bene-
ficially bounded and limited them. Each is multum
im parvo. ‘They are very wonders of compression,
and yet produce no sense of confinement or excision.
Spenser could not possibly have set before himself a
better exemplar ; but yet he so set him in vain. The
contrast between the two poets, considered merely as
narrators or story-tellers, is vividly exhibited in the
third canto of the Fourth Book of “The Faerie
Queene,” where, after a reverent obeisance to his great
predecessor, he attempts to tell the other half of the
half-told story.

«¢ Of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball and of Algarsife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That owned the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wondrous horse of brass,
On which the Tartar king did ride.”
XVI
Introduction

t is not without some misgiving that he adventures
on such a daring task :—

‘Then pardon, O most sacred happie Spirit !
That I thy labours lost} may thus revive,
And steale from thee the meede of thy due merit,
That none durst ever whilest thou wast alive,
And being dead in vain yet many strive.
Ne dare I like; but through infusion swete
Of thine own Spirit which doth in me survive,
I follow here the footing of thy feete,

But with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.’”

But it can scarcely be allowed either that he follows
the footing of his master’s feet, or that he caught the
breath of his master’s spirit. There are “diversities of

?

operations”’; and Spenser’s method and manner were
.not those of Chaucer, however sincere the allegiance he
professed, and however sincere his intentions to tread
in his footsteps and march along the same road. He
wanted some gifts and some habits that are necessary
for the perfect story-teller—gifts and habits which
Chaucer, by nature or by discipline, possessed in a
high degree, such as humour, concentration, realism.
The very structure of “The Faerie Queene” is de-
fective. It begins in the middle—at its opening it
takes us zz medias res, seemingly in accordance with

1 Spenser thought that the latter Part or Parts of the “Squire’s Tale” had
actually been written but been lost—been “quite devoured” by ‘cursed eld,”
and “brought to nought by little bits,” as he quaintly expresses it. But it
may be taken as certain Chaucer left the tale as we have it, that is, ‘* half told.”
The closing lines of what we have are clearly unrevised. For some reason or
another—trouble or sickness, or his growing infirmity—what would have
been one of the most brilliant works of the Middle Ages was never completed,
and, like “ Christabel” and “ Hyperion,” remains only a glorious fragment.

XvV1lL
Introduction

the precedent of the //zad or of the nezd, but
only seemingly, for both Homer and Virgil very
soon finish the explanation of their opening initial
scenes, and their readers know where they are. But
the first six books of ‘The Faerie Queene”’ are very
slightly connected together; and what the connection
is meant to be we learn only from the letter of the
poet to Sir Walter Raleigh, which it was thought
well to print with the first three books, no doubt in
consequence of some complaints of obscurity and dis-
attachment. This letter is significantly described as
“expounding his” (the author’s) ‘whole intention in
the course of this work,” and as “‘ hereunto annexed, for
that it giveth great light to the reader for the better
understanding.” Certainly a story ought not to re-
quire a prose appendix to set forth its arrangement
and its purpose, even if only a fourth of it is completed.
The exact correlation of eleven books was to remain
unrevealed till the Twelfth Book appeared. In fact,
had the poem ever been completed, we should have
had to begin its perusal at the end! Thus “The Faerie
Queene,” as has often been remarked, lacks unity and
cohesion. It is not so much one large and glorious
mansion as a group of mansions. ‘To use the metaphor
of Professor Craik, to whom many subsequent writers
on Spenser have been so considerably indebted, and
often without any at all adequate acknowledgment, it
is a street of fine houses, or, to use another meta-
phor of Professor Craik’s, which also has been freely
adopted by other critics, it is in parts a kind of wilder-

ness—a wilderness of wonderful beauty and wealth,
xvill :
Introduction

in which it is a delight to wander, but yet a wilderness
with paths and tracks dimly and faintly marked, often
scarcely to be discerned.

Such was the abundance of Spenser’s fancy, and so
various and extensive was his learning, that he wrote,
it would seem, with an amazing facility, never checked
by any paucities of either knowledge or ideas. His
pen could scarcely keep pace with his imagination.
His material he drew from all accessible sources—
from the Greek and Latin classics (his sympathetic ac-
quaintance with Plato is one of his distinctions), from
the Italian poets (not only from Ariosto and Tasso,
but Berni, Boiardo, Pulci, and others), from the old
Romances of Chivalry (especially the Arthurian in
Malory’s famous rendering, Bevis of Southampton,
Amadis de Gaul), from what there was of modern
English literature (above all, Chaucer’s works, but
also Hawes and other minor writers) and of modern
French literature (especially Marot), from contempo-
rary history (all the great personages of his time are
brought before us in his pages): but all these diverse
elements he combines and assimilates in his own
fashion, and forms into a compound quite unique, and
highly characteristic both of the hour and of the man.
No wonder if the modern reader is at first somewhat
perplexed and confused; no wonder if he often loses
the thread of the story, and fails to comprehend
such an astonishing prodigality of incident and of per-
sonification. Figure after figure flits before his eyes—
the cry is still “They come”; one seems to be in the
very birthplace and home of dreams, knights, ladies,

X1X
Introduction

monsters, wizards, and witches; all forms of good and
evil throng by in quick succession, and we are apt to
forget who is who and what is what. Probably some
candid good-natured friend complained to Spenser of
this complicatedness, which is certainly at its worst in
the Third and Fourth Books; and in a certain passage
in the Sixth he makes some sort of defence of himself
for what might seem divisions or aberrations in the
story of Sir Calidore. He compares himself to a ship
that, by reason of counter-winds and tides, fails to go
straight to its destination, but yet makes for it, and
does not lose its compass; see VI. xii. 1 and 2.

We are sure that for all young readers such a
version of Spenser’s stories as is given in this volume
may be truly serviceable in preparing them for the
study of the poem itself. And with some older
readers too —and it is to them this Introduction is
mainly addressed—we would fain hope this volume
may find a hearty welcome, as providing them with
a clue to what seems an intricate maze. What we
should like to picture to ourselves is young and old
reading these stories together, and the elder students
selecting for their own benefit, and for the benefit of
the younger, a few stanzas here and there from “The
Faerie Queene” by way of illustration. Of course we
do not make this humble suggestion to the initiated,
but to those—and their name is Legion —who at
present know nothing or next to nothing of what is
certainly one of the masterpieces of English literature.

JOHN W. HALES.

XX


THE RED CROSS KNIGHT— PAGE

THE COURT OF THE QUEEN I
THE WooD OF ERROR 5 : : 5 ; : : 4
THE KNIGHT DECEIVED BY THE MAGICIAN 8
THE KNIGHT FORSAKES UNA . : ‘ ; ‘i erste)
HOLINESS FIGHTS FAITHLESS, AND MAKES FRIENDS
WITH FALSE RELIGION 4 : , fg : a2 eL5
UNA AND THE LION . , ‘ : é : oe a
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY : : . : a2 S|
THE HOUSE OF PRIDE A i . : i <20
THE BATTLE FOR THE SHIELD. ; 3 5 sO
UNA AND THE WOODLAND KNIGHT. : . 4 eA
THE FALSE PILGRIM . : , : 3 2 : ee43
GIANT PRIDE y x 2 a : : _ : ery)
PRINCE ARTHUR. : : : : : : : Paes ©)
THE WONDROUS BUGLE AND THE MIGHTY SHIELD. 54

THE KNIGHT WITH THE HEMPEN ROPE. : . PaeeOS
XX1
Contents

PAGE

IN THE CAVE OF DESPAIR : : : . 68
How THE RED Cross KNIGHT CAME TO THE HOUSE

OF HOLINESS : : : : ; Pee 3
THE CITY OF THE GREAT Kine 3 : : : eee.O)
THE Last FIGHT ; 3 a 3 : : 5 Od

“EASE AFTER WAR” . é : 2 e fs a . 86

THE GOOD SIR GUYON—

SIR GUYON MEETS THE MAGICIAN . : ; , te 92
FRIEND OR FOE? f : : ROO
THE STORY OF THE NIGHT AND THE eee : . 100
THE THREE SISTERS . i : : : e : - 104
BRAGGADOCHIO . = : : : : 3 A - 108
Fury’s CAPTIVE . : : : : 3 5 é eee lle
THE ANGER OF FIRE. : : : 2 ‘ : » 116
THE IDLE LAKE. : a ¢ : a j : + 121
THE REALM OF PLUTO. : : , : : ell 7,
THE CAVE OF MAMMON . ; ; 3 : : <2 132
THE CHAMPION OF CHIVALRY . ; . : : . 139
THE HOUSE OF TEMPERANCE . : : : ; . 144
THE ROCK OF REPROACH AND THE WANDERING
ISLANDS : 5 : ; . 150
SEA-MONSTERS AND anes MONSTERS ; E : - 156
THE BOWER OF BLISS ; : : : 3 5 - 158

THE LEGEND OF BRITOMART—

How SIR GUYON MET A CHAMPION MIGHTIER THAN
HIMSELF : , . 167

How BRITOMART FOUGHT WITH on Tecra ‘ ee ty72.

How IT FARED WITH BRITOMART IN CASTLE JOYOUS . 177

How BRITOMART LOOKED INTO THE MAGIC MIRROR . 181

How BRITOMART WENT TO THE CAVE OF THE
MAGICIAN MERLIN. : : A . 186

How BRITOMART SET FORTH ON HER Ours : nea)
xxil
Contents

PAGE
How BRITOMART CAME TO THE CASTLE OF THE

CHURL MALBECCO : ; : : es ealOO
How BRITOMART WALKED THROUGH FIRE . : . 200
Wuat BRITOMART SAW IN THE ENCHANTED CHAMBER 206
How BRITOMART RESCUED A FAIR LADY FROM A

WICKED ENCHANTER . j : Lote
WHAT STRANGE MEETINGS BEFELL ON THE War ROD 7,
How Sir SATYRANE PROCLAIMED A GREAT TOURNA-

MENT . : ; ; W223
WHAT BEFELL ON THE ea AND GSEconD Das OF

THE TOURNAMENT é . : 5 se 229
How BRITOMART DID BATTLE FOR THE Goon

GIRDLE . 5 . : : : : 238A
How THE GOLDEN GIRDLE WAS AWARDED TO THE

FALSE FLORIMELL : : . 239

How Sir SCUDAMOUR CAME TO THE Hence OF Gane 244

How tue “SavacE KNIGHT” MET THE “KNIGHT
WITH THE EBONY SPEAR” . : ; : : . 250

How BRITOMART ENDED HER QUEST. ; : » 255

THE SQUIRE OF LOW DEGREE—

THE GIANT WITH FLAMING EYES . : : : . 260
“FOR HIS FRIEND'S SAKE” : , 5 = . 268
THE GIANT'S DAUGHTER . 5 ‘i : ‘ 5 5 OE

THE ADVENTURES OF SIR ARTEGALL—

THE SWORD OF JUSTICE AND THE IRON MAN : . 280
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SARACEN’S BRIDGE : . 286
THE GIANT WITH THE SCALES. A . 290
BORROWED PLUMES, AND THE FATE OF THE Shoes
Lapy . : ; : : a 2ot

How THE GooD es BRICADORE KNEW HIS OWN

MASTER. : i : - 5 : : ‘ » 301
Xxil]
Contents

THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE
COFFER . :

RADIGUND, QUEEN OF THE AMONG

How Sir ARTEGALL THREW AWAY HIS SwOoRD

THE HOUSE OF GUILE : :

THE BATTLE OF QUEEN RADIGUND AND BEOUn

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DAMSEL, THE Two
KNIGHTS, AND THE SULTAN’S HORSES

THE ADVENTURE AT THE DEN OF DECEIT

THE ADVENTURE OF THE TYRANT GRANTORTO

SIR CALIDORE, KNIGHT OF COURTESY—
THE QUEST OF THE BLATANT BEAST. 5 ; ,
THE PROUD DISCOURTEOUS KNIGHT
CORIDON AND PASTORELLA
IN THE BRIGANDS’ DEN
THE BEAST WITH A THOUSAND TORCURS



PAGE

305
311
318
323
331

336
345
352

360
369
374
381
389






Ls STRAT 1ONS ff i
i

}

J

FRONTISPIECE— On the morning of the third day he slew the
Dragon.
TITLE-PAGE.

PAGE

Heading to Introduction . : ‘ : 3 : : Pe eavAll
on Contents . 5 5 = : : 5 e Se exxl
7 List of Illustrations . : : : z 3 . XXV

H

Arming the Knight

There rode into the city a fair lady 3
Rushing at his foe : : : : : ; : : : 6
At last they chanced to meet an old man 9
“The Lady Una has left you!” . : : 2 : : eels
Sleeping quietly in her bower. d : ; : : 5 itd)
The two knights levelled their spears and rushed at each other 16
When she slept, he kept watch - . Lior espe LO)
He was afraid to go too near. : 5 z : ; E23
Tearing off his helmet . ’ : ; : : : ; Beez)
With his sword he struck the lion : : - 2

They saw in front of them a grand and Peaititul building” aen2 ©

XXV
List of Illustrations

High above all sat the Queen

The coach was drawn by an ugly and ill-matched team

Duessa stole secretly to the lodging of the pagan knight

A poor, simple pilgrim

The Knight tried to seize his weapons

The Prince carried him out of the castle

They saw a knight galloping towards them :

They came to the place where Despair had his dwelling

The third daughter, whose name was Love

It was called “The City of the Great King”

The Red Cross Knight and Una were betrothed

Sir Guyon and the Black Palmer

He saw marching to meet him a noble Knight .

A beautiful lady sat alone, weeping bitterly

An end to all her sorrow

They came to a Castle on a rock near the sea

“ Yield thyself my captive !”

A savage man beating a handsome youth

“ There is now coming a knight of wondrous power ”

“Lady, you have not done right to mislead me like this ”

He began with trembling hands to pour them through a hole
into the earth : 3 :

“ Behold what living eye has never seen before”

Watched over by a beautiful angel

The Knights soon drove them into confusion

The ferryman had to put forth all his strength and skill

A pack of wild beasts rushed forward

Acrasia tried to set herself free

Disguising themselves in poor clothes.

Hurled from his horse .

Britomart saw six knights

One of them shot a keen arrow at her
XXxvi

PAGE
29
33
37
45
48
59
65
69
77
81
87
92
93
97

103
105

' 110

113
119
123

129
135
140
147
153
159
164
167

173
179
List of Illustrations

Britomart looked well at the figure of this Knight

Deep in some work of wonder

Glaucé, taking down the armour, dressed her in it

The valiant stranger was a beautiful maiden

The flames parted on either side

He rode on a ravenous lion .

Fastened to a brazen pillar .

They presently saw two knights in armour

Feeding on the dead body of a milk-white palfrey

Both champions were felled to the ground .

Smote him sorely on the visor

Britomart showed her lovely Amoret .

They heard the sound of many iron hammers

Threatening to strike :

At last she was obliged to leave him .

The rescue of Amoret .

A mighty man, riding on a dromedary

The Giant’s daughter came one day in glee to the prison .
He found Pceana playing on a rote

The Saracen’s Bridge . E . : : 3 : s
Wild beasts . . . wrongfully oppressing others of their own kind
Sir Artegall gripped him fast by his iron collar .

They beheld a giant on a rock, holding a pair of scales
Straightway the enchanted damsel vanished into nothing .
He scourged him out of the court

“T helped to save her from the jaws of death”

In the midst of them he saw a Knight pinioned .

He was dazzled with astonishment

She came to a window opening to the west

In the temple of Isis . .

The Sultan’s horses, like hungry hounds, cruelly chased him

The noise of her weeping speedily brought forth the villain
Xxvii
List of Illustrations

Artegall, with his sword Crysaor, swiftly cut off his head
Sir Calidore and the shepherds

A comely Squire, bound hand and foot to a tree.

The Knight invited him to sit down beside them

He saw seated on a little hillock a beautiful maiden

The brigands made search to see who was slain

He threw his shield on him, and pinned him to the ground



PAGE
359
360
363
373
375
383
391
The Red Cross Knight

“ Right faithful true he was in deed and word”





The Court of the Queen
fA en NCE upon a time, in the days
( ee when there were still such
Ips things as giants and dragons, there
lived a great Queen. She reigned
over a rich and beautiful country,
and because she was good and noble
every one loved her, and tried also
to be good. Her court was the
most splendid one in the world, for all her knights
were brave and gallant, and each one thought only
of what heroic things he could do, and how best he
could serve his royal lady.

The name of the Queen was Gloriana, and each of
her twelve chief knights was known as the Champion
of some virtue. Thus Sir Guyon was the representa-
tive of Temperance, Sir Artegall of /ustzce, Sir Cali-
dore of Courtesy, and others took up the cause of
Friendship, Constancy, and so on.

Every year the Queen held a great feast, which

I A




VA
a fe
fi
The Red Cross Knight

lasted twelve days. Once, on the first day of the
feast, a stranger in poor clothes came to the court, and,
falling before the Queen, begged a favour of her. It was
always the custom at these feasts that the Queen
should refuse nothing that was asked, so she bade the
stranger say what it was he wished. Then he besought
that, if any cause arose which called for knightly aid,
the adventure might be entrusted to him.

When the Queen had given her promise he stood
quietly on one side, and did not try to mix with the
other guests who were feasting at the splendid tables.
Although he was so brave, he was very gentle and
modest, and he had never yet proved his valour in
fight, therefore he did not think himself worthy of
a place among the knights who had already won for
themselves honour and renown.

Soon after this there rode into the city a fair lady
on a white ass. Behind her came her servant, a dwarf,
leading a warlike horse that bore the armour of a
knight. The face of the lady was lovely, but it was
very sorrowful.

Making her way to the palace, she fell before Queen
Gloriana, and implored her help. She said that her
name was Una; she was the daughter of a king and
queen who formerly ruled over a mighty country;
but, many years ago, a huge dragon came and wasted
all the land, and shut the king and queen up in a
brazen castle, from which they might never come out.
The Lady Una therefore besought Queen Glortana to
grant her one of her knights to fight and kill this
terrible dragon.
= 2
The Court of the Queen







Then the stranger sprang forward, and reminded
the Queen of the promise she had given. At first
she was unwilling to consent, for the Knight was
young, and, moreover, he had no armour of his
own to fight with.

Then said the Lady Una to him, ‘ Will you
wear the armour that I bring you, for unless you do
you will never succeed in the enterprise, nor kill the
horrible monster of Evil? The armour is not new,
it is scratched and dinted with many a hard-fought
battle, but if you wear it rightly no armour that ever
was made will serve you so well.”

Then the stranger bade them bring the armour and
put it on him, and Una said, “Stand, therefore, having
your loins girt about with truth, and having on the
breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod with
the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all
taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and take

8
The Red Cross Knight

the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit,
which is the word of Gop.”

And when the stranger had put off his own rough
clothes and was clad in this armour, straightway he
seemed the goodliest man in all that company, and
the Lady Una was well pleased with her champion ;
and, because of the red cross which he wore on his
breastplate and on his silver shield, henceforth he
was known always as “the Red Cross Knight.” But
his real name was AYo/iness, and the name of the lady
for whom he was to do battle was Zvath.

So these two rode forth into the world together,
while a little way behind followed their faithful atten-
dant, Prudence. And now you shall hear some of
the adventures that befell the Red Cross Knight and
his two companions.

The Wood of Error

The first adventure happened in this way. Scarcely
had the Red Cross Knight and the Lady Una started
on their journey when the sky suddenly became over-
cast, and a great storm of rain beat down upon the
earth. Looking about for shelter, they saw, not far -
away, a shady grove, which seemed just what they
wanted. The trees here had great spreading branches,
which grew so thickly overhead that no light could
pierce the covering of leaves. Through this wood
wide paths and alleys, well trodden, led in all direc-
tions. It seemed a truly pleasant place, and a safe

4
The Wood of Error

shelter against the tempest, so they entered in at
once.
At first, as they roamed along the winding paths
they found nothing but pleasure. Deeper and deeper
into the heart of the wood they went, hearing with joy
the sweet singing of the birds, and filled with wonder
to see so many different kinds of beautiful trees clus-
tered in one spot. But by-and-by, when the storm was
over and they wished to go forward on their journey,
they found, to their sorrow, that they had lost their
way. It was impossible to remember by which path
they had come; every way now seemed strange and
unknown. Here and there they wandered, backwards
and forwards; there were so many turnings to be seen,
so many paths, they knew not which to take to lead |
them out of the wood.

In this perplexity, at last they determined to go
straight forward until they found some end, either in
or out of the wood. Choosing for this purpose one of
the broadest and most trodden paths, they came pre-
sently, in the thickest part of the wood, to a hollow
cave. Then the Red Cross Knight dismounted from
his steed, and gave his spear to the dwarf to hold.

“Take heed,” said the Lady Una, “‘lest you too
rashly provoke mischief. This is a‘wild and unknown
place, and peril is often without show. Hold back,
therefore, till you know further if there is any danger
hidden there.”

“Ah, lady,” said the Knight, ‘it were shame to
go backward for fear of a hidden danger. Virtue her-
self gives light to lead through any darkness.”

5
The Red Cross Knight

“Yes,” said Una; “but I know better than you
the peril of this place, though now it is too late to
bid you go back like a coward. Yet wisdom warns
you to stay your steps, before you are forced to re-
treat. This is the Wandering Wood, and that is the
den of Error, a horrible monster, hated of all. There-
fore, I advise you to be cautious.”



“Fly, fly! this is no
place for living men!” cried
timid Prudence.

But the young Knight
was full of eagerness and
fiery courage, and nothing could stop him. Forth
to the darksome hole he went, and looked in. His
glittering armour made a little light, by which he
could plainly see the ugly monster. Such a great,
horrible thing it was, something like a snake, with a
long tail twisted in knots, with stings all over it.
And near this wicked big creature, whose other name

was Falsehood, there were a thousand little ones, all
6
The Wood of Error

varying in shape, but every one bad and ugly; for
you may be quite sure that wherever one of this
horrible race is found, there will always be many
others of the same family lurking near.

When the light shone into the cave all the little
creatures fled to hide themselves, and the big parent
Falsehood rushed out of her den in terror. But
when she saw the shining armour of the Knight she
tried to turn back, for she hated light as her deadliest
foe, and she was always accustomed to live in dark-
ness, where she could neither see plainly nor be seen.

When the Knight saw that she was trying to
escape, he sprang after her as fierce as a lion, and
then the great fight began. Though he strove
valiantly, yet he was in sore peril, for suddenly the
cunning creature flung her huge tail round and round
him, so that he could stir neither hand nor foot.

Then the Lady Una cried out, to encourage him,
“Now, now, Sir Knight, show what you are! Add
faith unto your force, and be not faint! Kill her,
or else she will surely kill you.”

With that, fresh strength and courage came to
the Knight. Gathering all his force, he got one
hand free, and gripped the creature by the throat
with so much pain that she was soon compelled
to loosen her wicked hold. Then, seeing that she
could not hope to conquer in this way, she suddenly
tried to stifle the Knight by flinging over him a flood
of poison. This made the Knight retreat a moment;
then she called to her aid all the horrid little creeping
and crawling monsters that he had seen before, and

7
The Red Cross Knight

many others of the same kind, or worse. These came
swarming and buzzing round the Knight like a cloud
of teasing gnats, and tormented and confused him
with their feeble stings. Enraged at this fresh attack,
he made up his mind to end the matter one way or
another, and, rushing at his foe, he killed her with
one stroke of his sword.

Then Lady Una, who, from a distance, had
watched all that passed, came near in haste to greet
his victory.

“Fair Knight,” she said, “born under happy
star! You are well worthy of that armour in which
this day you have won great glory, and proved your
strength against a strong enemy. This is your first
battle. I pray that you will win many others in
like manner.”

The Knight deceived by the Magician

After his victory over Falsehood, the Red Cross
Knight again mounted his steed, and he and the Lady
Una went on their way. Keeping carefully to one
path, and turning neither to the right hand nor the
left, at last they found themselves safely out of the
Wood of Error.

But now they were to fall into the power of a more
dangerous and treacherous foe than even the’ hateful
monster, Falsehood.

They had travelled a long way, and met with no

fresh adventure, when at last they chanced to meet in
8
Knight deceived by the Magician

the road an old man. He looked very wise and good.
He was dressed in a long black gown, like a hermit,
and had bare feet and a grey beard; he had a book
hanging from his belt, as was the
custom with scholars in those days.
He seemed very quiet and sad,
and kept his eyes fixed on the
ground, and all the time, as he
went along, he seemed to be say-
ing prayers, and lamenting over
his own wickedness.

When he saw the travellers he










made a very humble salute to them. The Red Cross
Knight returned the greeting with all courtesy, and
asked him if he knew of any strange adventures that

were then taking place.
« Ah, my dear son!” said the hermit, “ how should

9
The Red Cross Knight

a simple old man, who lives in a lonely cell, and does
nothing all day but sorrow for his own faults—how
should such a man know any tidings of war or worldly
trouble? It is not fitting for me to meddle with such
matters. But, if indeed you desire to hear about
danger and evil near at hand, I can tell you about a
strange man who wastes all the surrounding country.”

“That,” said the Knight, ‘is what I chiefly ask
about, and I will reward you well if you will guide
me to the place where he dwells. For it is a disgrace
to knighthood that such a creature should be allowed
to live so long.”

“Fis dwelling is far away from here, in the midst
of a barren wilderness,’ answered the old man. ‘No
living person may ever pass it without great danger
and difficulty.”

“Now,” said the Lady Una, “night is drawing
near, and I know well that you are wearied with your
former fight. Therefore, take rest, and with the new
day begin new work.”

“You have been well advised, Sir Knight,” said
the old man. ‘‘ Day is now spent; therefore take up
your abode with me for this night.”

_ The travellers were well content to do this, so
they went with the apparently good old man to his
home.

It was a little lowly hermitage, down in a dale by
the side of a forest, far from the beaten track of
travellers. A small chapel was built near, and close
by a crystal stream gently welled forth from a never-
failing fountain.

IO
Knight deceived by the Magician

Arrived at the house, they neither expected nor
found any entertainment; but rest was what they
chiefly needed, and they were well satisfied, for the
noblest mind is always the best contented. The old
man had a good store of pleasing words, and knew well
how to fit his talk to suit his visitors. The evening
passed pleasantly, and then the hermit conducted his
guests to the lodgings where they were to spend the night.

But when they were safely asleep a horrid change
came over the old man, for in reality he was not good
at all, although he pretended to be so. His heart was
full of hatred, malice, and deceit. He called himself
Archimago, which means a “ Great Magician,” but his
real name was Hypocrisy. He knew that as long as
Holiness and Truth kept together, no great harm
could come to either of them; so he determined to
do everything in his power to separate them. For
this purpose he got out all his books of magic, and set
to work to devise cunning schemes and spells. He
was so clever and wily that he could deceive people
much better and wiser than himself. ° He also had at
his bidding many bad little spirits, who ran about and
did his messages; these he used to help his friends
and frighten his enemies, and he had the power of
making them take any shape he wished.

Choosing out two of the worst of these, he sent
one on a message to King Morpheus, who rules over
the Land of Sleep. He bade him bring back with
him a bad, false dream, which Archimago then carried
to the sleeping Knight. So cunningly did he contrive
the matter, that when the Knight awoke the next

II
The Red Cross Knight

morning he never knew that it had only been a dream,
but believed that all the things he had seen in his sleep
had really happened.

In the meanwhile, Archimago dressed up the other
bad spirit to look like Una, so that at a little distance
it was impossible to tell any difference in the two
figures. He knew that the only way to part Holiness
and Truth was to make Holiness believe by some
means that Truth was not as good as she appeared to
be. He knew also that the Red Cross Knight would
believe nothing against the Lady Una except what he
saw with his own eyes. Therefore he laid his plans
with the greatest care and guile.

Now we shall see how he succeeded in his wicked
endeavour.

The Knight forsakes Una

The next morning at daybreak the Knight awoke,
sad and unrested after the unpleasant dreams that had
come to him in the night. He did not know he had
been asleep; he thought the things that troubled him
had really happened.

It was scarcely dawn when Archimago rushed up
to him in a state of pretended sorrow and indignation.

“The Lady Una has left you,” said this wicked
man. ‘She is not good as she pretends to be. She
cares nothing at all for you, nor for the noble work on
which you are bound, and she does not. mean to go
any farther with you on your toilsome journey.”

The Red Cross Knight started up in anger. This

12)
The Knight forsakes Una

was like his dream, and he knew not what was true
nor what was false.

“Come,” said Archimago, “‘see for yourself.”

He pointed to a figure in the distance whom the
Knight took to be Una. Then, indeed, he was forced
to believe what the wicked magician told him. He
now took for granted that Una had been deceiving
him all along, and had seized this moment to escape.









He forgot all her real sweetness and goodness and
beauty; he only thought how false and unkind she
was. He was filled with anger, and he never paused
a moment to reflect if there could be any possibility
of mistake. Calling his servant, he bade him bring
his horse at once, and then these two immediately set

forth again on their journey.
Here the Red Cross Knight was wrong, and we

13
The Red Cross Knight

shall see presently into what perils and misfortunes he
fell because of his hasty want of faith. If he had had
a little patience he would soon have discovered that
the figure he saw was only a
dressed-up imitation. The real
Lady Una all this time was
sleeping quietly in her own
bower.

When she awoke and found
that her two companions had
fled in the night and left her
alone behind, she was filled with
grief and dismay. She could
not understand why they should
do such a thing. Mounting her white ass, she rode
after them with all the speed she could, but the Knight
had urged on his steed so fast it was almost useless to
try to follow. Yet she never stayed to rest her weary
limbs, but went on seeking them over hill and dale,
and through wood and plain, sorely grieved in her
tender heart that the one she loved best should leave
her with such ungentle discourtesy.

When the wicked Archimago saw that his cunning
schemes had succeeded so well he was greatly pleased,
and set to work to devise fresh mischief. It was Una
whom he chiefly hated, and he took great pleasure
in her many troubles, for hypocrisy always hates real
goodness. He had the power of turning himself into
any shape he chose—sometimes he would be a fowl,
sometimes a fish, now like a fox, now like a dragon.
On the present occasion, to suit his evil purpose, it

14


Holiness fights Faithless

seemed best to him to put on the appearance of the
good knight whom he had so cruelly beguiled.

Therefore, Hypocrisy dressed himself up in imita-
tion armour with a silver shield and everything exactly
like the Red Cross Knight. When he sat upon his
fiery charger he looked such a splendid warrior you
would have thought it was St. George himself.

Holiness fights Faithless, and makes Friends with
False Religion

The true St. George, meanwhile, had wandered far
away. Now that he had left the Lady Una, he had
nothing but his own will to guide him, and he no
longer followed any fixed purpose.

Presently he saw coming to meet him another
warrior, fully armed. He was a great, rough fellow,
who cared nothing for Gop or man; across his shield,
in gay letters, was written “Sans Foy,” which means
Faithless. |

He had with him a companion, a handsome lady,
dressed all in scarlet, trimmed with gold and rich
pearls. She rode a beautiful palfrey, with gay trap-
pings, and little gold bells tinkled on her bridle. ‘The
two came along laughing and talking, but when the
lady saw the Red Cross Knight, she left off her mirth
at once, and bade her companion attack him.

Then the two knights levelled their spears, and
rushed at each other. But when Faithless saw the
red cross graven on the breastplate of the other, he

AG
ThemWeds Cross Knight



ASE
ee








knew that he could never prevail
against that safeguard. However,
he fought with great fury, and the

Vj Red Cross Knight had a hard battle
4. duets before he overcame him. At last
a he managed to kill him, and he told
his servant to carry away the shield of Faithless in token
of victory.

When the lady saw her champion fall, she fled in
terror; but the Red Cross Knight hurried after her,
and bade her stay, telling her that she had nothing
now to fear. His brave and gentle heart was full of
pity to see her in so great distress, and he asked her
to tell him who she was, and who was the man that
had been with her.

Melting into tears, she then told him the following
sad story :—She said that she was the daughter of an
emperor, and had been engaged to marry a wise and

good prince. Before the wedding-day, however, the
16




Una and the Lion

prince fell into the hands of his foes, and was cruelly slain.
She went out to look for his dead body, and in the course
of her wandering met the Saracen knight, who took her
captive. ‘Sans Foy” was one of three bad brothers.
The names of the others were “Sans Loy,” which means
Lawless, and “Sans Joy,” which means /oyless. She
further said that her own name was “‘ Fidessa,” or 77we
Religion, and she besought the Knight to have compas-
sion on her, because she was so friendless and unhappy.

“Fair lady,” said the Knight, “a heart of flint
would grieve to hear of your sorrows. But henceforth
rest safely assured that you have found a new friend
to help you, and lost an old foe to hurt you. A new
friend is better than an old foe.”

Then the seemingly simple maiden pretended to
look comforted, and the two rode on happily together.

But what the lady had told about herself was quite
untrue. Her name was not ‘‘Fidessa” at all, but
“ Duessa,” which means Halse Religion. If Una had
still been with the Knight, he would never have been
led astray; but when he parted from her he had
nothing but his own feelings to guide him. He still
meant to do right, but he was deceived by his false
companion, who brought him into much trouble and

danger.

Una and the Lion
All this while the Lady Una, lonely and forsaken,

was roaming in search of her lost Knight. How sad
was her fate! She, a King’s daughter, so beautiful, so
1 B :
The Red Cross Knight

faithful, so true, who had done no wrong either in word
or deed, was left sorrowful and deserted because of the
cunning wiles of a wicked enchanter. Fearing nothing,
she sought the Red Cross Knight through woods and
lonely wilderness, but no tidings of him ever came
to her.

One day, being weary, she alighted from her steed,
and lay down on the grass to rest. It was.in the midst
of a thicket, far from the sight of any traveller. She
‘lifted her veil, and put aside the black cloak which

always covered her dress.

«Her angel’s face,
As the great eye of Heaven shined bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place.”

Suddenly, out of the wood there rushed a fierce
lion, who, seeing Una, sprang at her to devour her;
but, when he came nearer, he was amazed at the sight
of her loveliness, and all his rage turned to pity.
Instead of tearing her to pieces, he kissed her weary
feet and licked her lily hand as if he knew how inno-
cent and wronged she was.’

When Una -saw the gentleness of this kingly
creature, she could not help weeping.

Sad to see her sorrow, he stood gazing at her; all’
his angry mood changed to compassion, till at last Una
mounted her snowy palfrey and once more set out to
seek her lost companion.

1 The figure of the lion may be taken as the emblem of /onour,
which always pays respect to Truth.

18
Una and the Lion

The lion would not leave her desolate, but went
with her as a strong guard and as a faithful companion.
When she slept he kept watch, and when she waked he
waited diligently, ready
to help her in any way he
could. He always knew
B from her looks what she

wanted.

Long she travelled thusthrough
lonely places, where she thought
her wandering Knight might pass,
yet never found trace of living
man. At length she came to the
foot of a steep mountain, where
the trodden grass showed that
there was a path for people to go.
This path she followed till at
last she saw, slowly walking
in the front of her, a damsel
carrying a jar of water,”

















The Lady Una called to her to ask if there were
any dwelling-place near, but the rough-looking girl
made no answer; she seemed not able to speak, nor

19
The Red Cross Knight

hear, nor understand. But when she saw the lion
standing beside her, she threw down her pitcher with
sudden fear and fled away. Never before in that land
had she seen the face of a fair lady, and the sight of
the lion filled her with terror. Fast away she fled, and
never looked behind till she came at last to her home,
where her blind mother sat all day in darkness. Too
frightened to speak, she caught hold of her mother
with trembling hands, while the poor old woman, full
of fear, ran to shut the door of their house.

By this time the weary Lady Una had arrived, and
asked if she might come in; but, when no answer came
to her request, the lion, with his strong claws, tore
open the wicket-door and let her into the little hut.
There she found the mother and daughter crouched up
in a dark corner, nearly dead with fear.

The name of the poor old blind woman was Super-
stition. She tried to be good in a very mistaken way.
She hid herself in her dark corner, and was quite con-
tent never to come out of it. When the beautiful Lady
Una, who was all light and truth, came to the hut, the
mother and daughter, instead of making her welcome,
hated her, and would gladly have thrust her out.

Trying to soothe their needless dread, Una spoke
gently to them, and begged that she might rest that
night in their small cottage. To this they unwillingly
agreed, and Una lay down with the faithful lion at her
feet to keep watch. All night, instead of sleeping, she
wept, still sorrowing for her lost Knight and longing
for the morning.

In the middle of the night, when all the inmates

20
Una and the Lion

of the little cottage were asleep, there came a furious
knocking at the door. This was a wicked thief,
called “ Kirkrapine,” or Church-robber, whose custom
it was to go about stealing ornaments from churches,
and clothes from clergymen, and robbing the alms-
boxes of the poor. He used to share his spoils with
the daughter of the blind woman, and to-night he
had come with a great sackful of stolen goods.

When he received-no answer to his knocking, he |
got very angry indeed, and made a loud clamour at
the door; but the women in the hut were too much
afraid of the lion to rise and let him in. At last he
burst open the door in a great rage and tried to enter,
but the lion sprang upon him and tore him to pieces -
before he could even call for help. His terrified
friends scarcely dared to weep or move in case they
should share his fate.

When daylight came, Una rose and started again
on her journey with the lion to seek the wandering
Knight. As soon as they had left, the two frightened
women came forth, and, finding Church-robber slain
outside the cottage, they began to wail and lament ;
then they ran after Una, railing at her for being the
cause of all their ill; they called after her evil wishes
that mischief and misery might fall on her and follow
her all the way, and that she might ever wander in
endless error.

When they saw that their bad words were of no
avail, they turned back, and there in the road they
met a knight, clad in armour ; but, though he looked
such a grand warrior, it was really only the wicked

21
The Red Cross Knight

enchanter, Hypocrisy, who was seeking Una, in
order to work her fresh trouble. When he saw
the old woman, Superstition, he asked if she could
give him any tidings of the lady. Therewith her
passion broke out anew; she told him what had
just happened, blaming Una as the cause Ofaealll
her distress. Archimago pretended to condole with

her, and then, finding out the direction in which Una
~ had gone, he followed as quickly as possible.

Before long he came up to where Una was slowly
travelling; but seeing the noble lion at her side, he
was afraid to go too near, and turned away to a hill
at a little distance. When Una saw him, she thought,
from his shield and armour, that it was her own true
knight, and she rode up to him, and spoke meekly,
half-frightened.

“‘ Ah, my lord,” she said, “‘ where have you been so
long out of my sight? I feared that you hated me,
or that I had done something to displease you, and
that made everything seem dark and cheerless. But
welcome now, welcome!”

“My dearest lady,” said false Hypocrisy, “you
must not think I could so shame knighthood as to
desert you. But the truth is, the reason why I left
you so long was to seek adventure in a strange place,
where Archimago said there was a mighty robber, who
worked much mischief to many people. Now he will
trouble no one further. This is the good reason why
I left you. Pray believe it, and accept my faithful
service, for I have vowed to defend you by land and
sea. Let your grief be over.”

2D
In the Hands of the Enemy




































When Una heard these
sweet words it seemed to her
that she was fully rewarded
for all the trials she had gone
through. One loving hour can
make up for many years of sorrow.
She forgot all that she had suf-
fered; she spoke no more of the
past. True love never looks back, but always forward.
Before her stood her Knight, for whom she had toiled
so sorely, and Una’s heart was filled with joy.

In the Hands of the Enemy

Una and the Magician (who was disguised as the
Red Cross Knight) had not gone far when they saw
some one riding swiftly towards them. The new-comer
was on a fleet horse, and was fully armed ; his look was
stern, cruel, and revengeful. On his shield in bold

23
The Red Cross Knight

letters was traced the name “Sans Loy,” which means
Lawless. He was one of the brothers of ‘Sans Foy,”
or Faithless, whom the real Red Cross Knight had slain,
and he had made up his mind to avenge his brother’s
death.

When he saw the red cross graven on the shield
which Hypocrisy carried, he thought that he had found
the foe of whom he was in search, and, levelling his
spear, he prepared for battle. Hypocrisy, who was a
mean coward, and had never fought in his life, was
nearly fainting with fear; but the Lady Una spoke
such cheering words that he began to feel more hope-
ful. Lawless, however, rushed at him with such fury
that he drove his lance right through the other’s shield,









and bore him to the ground. Leaping from his horse,
he ran towards him, meaning to kill him, and exclaim-
ing, ‘Lo, this is the worthy reward of him that slew
Faithless!”
Una begged the cruel knight to have pity on his
fallen foe, but her words were of no avail. ‘Tearing off
24
In the Hands of the Enémy

his helmet, Lawless would




have slain him at
once, but he stopped
in astonishment
when, instead of the
Red Cross Knight,
he saw the face of
Archimago. He
knewwell that crafty
Hypocrisy was
skilled in all forms
of deceit, but that he took care to shun fighting and
brave deeds. Now, indeed, had Hypocrisy’s guile met
with a just punishment.

“Why, luckless Archimago, what is this?” cried
Lawless. ‘‘ What evil chance brought you here? Is
it your fault, or my mistake, that I have wounded my
friend instead of my foe?”

But the old Magician answered nothing; he lay
still as if he were .dying. So.Lawless spent no more
time over him, but went over to where Una waited,
lost in amazement and sorely perplexed.

Her companion, whom she had imagined was her
own true Knight, turned out to be nothing but an
impostor, and she herself had fallen into the hands of
a cruel enemy.



Wanner

2)
The Red Cross Knight

When the brave lion saw Lawless go up to Una
and try to drag her roughly from her palfrey, full
of kingly rage he rushed to protect her. He flew at
Lawless and almost tore his shield to pieces with his
sharp claws. But, alas! he could not overcome the
warrior, for Lawless was one of the strongest men that
ever wielded spear, and was well skilled in feats of arms.
With his sharp sword he struck the lion, and the noble
creature fell dead at his feet.

Poor Una, what was to become of her now? Her
faithful guardian was gone, and she found herself the
captive of a cruel foe. Lawless paid no heed to her
tears and entreaties. Placing her on his own horse, he
rode off with her; while her snow-white ass, not will-
ing to forsake her, followed meekly at a distance.



The House of Pride

Now the Red Cross Knight, because of his lack of
loyalty to Una, fell into much danger and difficulty.
His first fault was in believing evil of her so readily,
and leaving her forlorn; after that he was too easily
beguiled by the pretended goodness and beauty of

26
The House of Pride

Duessa. All who fight in a good cause must beware
of errors such as these. If matters do not go exactly
as we wish, we must not lose heart and get impatient ;
even if we cannot understand what is happening,
we must trust that all will be well. We must keep
steadily to the one true aim set before us, or else,
like the Red Cross Knight, we may be led astray by
false things that are only pleasant in appearance, and
have no real goodness.

Duessa and the Knight travelled for a long way, till
at last they saw in front of them a grand and beautiful
building. It seemed as if it were the house of some
mighty Prince; a broad highway led up to it, all
trodden bare by the feet of those who flocked thither.
Great troops of people of all sorts and condition
journeyed here, both by day and night. But few re-
turned, unless they managed to escape, beggared and
disgraced, when, ever afterwards, they lived a life of
misery.

‘To this place Duessa guided the Red Cross Knight,
for she was tired with the toilsome journey, and the
day was nearly over.

It was a stately palace, built of smooth bricks,
cunningly laid together without mortar. The walls
were high, but neither strong nor thick, and they were
covered with dazzling gold-foil. There were many
lofty towers and picturesque galleries, with bright
windows and delightful bowers; and on the top there
was a dial to tell the time.

It was lovely to look at, and did much credit to
the workman that designed it; but it was a great pity

27
The Red Cross Knight

that so fair a building rested on so frail a foundation.
For it was mounted high up on a sandy hill that kept
shifting and falling away. Every breath of heaven
made it shake; and all the back parts, that no one
could see, were old and ruinous, though cunningly
painted over.

Arrived here, Duessa and the Red Cross Knight
passed in at once, for the gates stood wide open to all.
They were in charge of a porter, called ‘ I]-come,” who

- never denied entrance to any one. The hall inside was
hung with costly tapestry and rich curtains. Numbers
of people, rich and poor, were waiting here, in order to
gain sight of the Lady of this wonderful place. :

Duessa and the Knight passed through this crowd,
who all gazed at them, and entered the Presence
Chamber of the Queen.

What a dazzling sight met their eyes! Such a
scene of splendour had never been known in the court
of any living prince. A noble company of lords and
ladies stood on every side, and made the place more
beautiful with their presence.

High above all there was a cloth of state, and a
rich throne as bright as the sun. On the throne, clad
in royal robes, sat the Queen. Her garments were all
glittering with gold and precious jewels; but so great
was her beauty that it dimmed even the brightness of
her throne. She sat there in princely state, shining
like the sun. She hated and despised all lowly things
of earth, Under her scornful feet lay a dreadful
dragon, with a hideous tail. In her hand she held a

mirror in which she often looked at her face; she took
28




4)
YP

wl










“Zo! underneath ber scornful feet was layne
WH dreadful dragon with an hideous trayne ;
nd in ber band she beld a mirrbour bright,
Wibercin ber face she often viewed fayne,
And in ber selfeloved semblance took delight.”



The House of Pride

great delight in her own appearance, for she was fairer
than any living woman.

She was the daughter of grisly Pluto, King of
Hades, and men called her proud Lucifera. She had
crowned herself a queen, but she had no rightful king-
dom at all, nor any possessions. The power which she
had obtained she had usurped by wrong and tyranny.
She ruled her realm not by laws, but by craft, and
according to the advice of six old wizards, who with
their bad counsels upheld her kingdom.

As soon as the Knight and Duessa came into the
presence-chamber, an usher, by name Vanzty, made
room and prepared a passage for them, and brought
them to the lowest stair of the high throne. Here
they made a humble salute, and declared that they had
come to see the Queen’s royal state, and to prove if
the wide report of her great splendour were true.

With scornful eyes, half unwilling to look so low,
she thanked them disdainfully, and did not show them
any courtesy worthy of a queen, scarcely even bidding
them arise. The lords and ladies of the court, how-
ever, were all eager to appear well in the eyes of the
strangers. They shook out their ruffles, and fluffed up
their curls, and arranged their gay attire more trimly ;
and each one was jealous and spiteful of the others.

They did their best to entertain the Knight, and
would gladly have made him one of their company.
To Duessa, also, they were most polite and gracious,
for formerly she had been well known in that court.
But to the knightly eyes of the warrior all the glitter
of the crowd seemed vain and worthless, and he thought

31
The Red Gross Knight

that it was unbefitting so great a queen to treat a
strange knight with such scant courtesy. :
Suddenly, Queen Lucifera rose from her throne, and
called for her coach. Then all was bustle and con-
fusion, every one rushing violently forth. Blazing with
brightness she paced down the hall, like the sun dawn-
ing in the east. All the people thronging the hall
thrust and pushed each other aside to gaze upon her.
Her glorious appearance amazed the eyes of all men.

Her coach was adorned with gold and gay garlands,
and was one of the most splendid carriages ever seen,
but it was drawn by an ugly and ill-matched team. On
every animal rode one of her evil Councillors, who was
much like in nature to the creature that carried him.

The first of these, who guided all the rest, was
Idleness, the nurse of Sin. He chose to ride a sloth-
ful ass; he looked always as if he were half asleep, and
as if he did not know whether it were night or day.
He shut himself away from all care, and shunned manly
exercise, but if there were any mischief to be done he
joined in-it readily. The Queen was indeed badly
served who had Idleness for her leading Councillor.

Next to him came Gluttony, riding ona pig; then
Self-indulgence on a goat, Avarice on a camel, Envy
on a wolf, and Wrath on a lion. Each in his own
way was equally hideous and hateful.

As they went along, crowds of people came round,
shouting for joy; always before them a foggy mist
sprang up, covering all the land, and under their feet
lay the dead bones of men who had wandered from
the right path.

Bo
































“. .. This was drawne of six unequall beasts
On which ber six sage Counsellours did ryde,”
Cc

The House of Pride

So forth they went in this goodly array to enjoy the
fresh air, and to sport in the flowery meadows. Among
the rest, next to the chariot, rode the false Duessa, but
the good Knight kept far apart, not joining in the noisy
mirth which seemed unbefitting a true warrior.

Having enjoyed themselves awhile in the pleasant
fields, they returned to the stately palace. Here they
found that a wandering knight had just arrived. On his
shield, in red letters, was written the name “Sans Joy,”
which means /oyess; and he was the brother of Fazth-
less, whom the Red Cross Knight had slain, and of
Lawless, who had taken Una captive. He looked
sullen and revengeful, as if he had in his mind bitter
and angry thoughts.

When he saw the shield of his slain brother, Faith-
less, in the hands of the Red Cross Knight’s page, he
sprang at him and snatched it away. But the Knight
had no mind to lose the trophy which he had won in
battle, and, attacking him fiercely, he again got pos-
session of it.

Thereupon they hastily began to prepare for battle,
clashing their shields and shaking their swords in the
air. But the Queen, on pain of her severe displeasure,
commanded them to restrain their fury, saying that if
either had a right to the shield, they should fight it
out fairly the next day.

That night was passed in joy and gaiety, feasting
and making merry in bower and hall. The steward
of the court was Gluttony, who poured forth lavishly
of his abundance to all; and then the chamberlain,
Sloth, summoned them to rest.

35)
The Red Cross Knight

The Battle for the Shield

That night, when every one slept, Duessa stole
secretly to the lodgings of the pagan knight Joyless.
She found him wide awake, restless, and troubled,
busily devising how he might annoy his foe. To
him she spoke many untrue words.

“Dear Joyless,” she said, “I am so glad that you
have come. I have passed many sad hours for the sake
of Faithless, whom this traitor slew. He has treated
me very cruelly, keeping me shut up in a dark cave;
but now I will take shelter with you from his disdain-
ful spite. To you belongs the inheritance of your
brother, Faithless. Let him not be unavenged.”

“Fair lady, grieve no more for past sorrows,” said
Joyless; “neither be afraid of present peril, for need-
less fear never profited any one, nor is it any good to
lament over misfortunes that cannot be helped. Faith-
less is dead, his troubles are over; but I live, and I
will avenge him.”

“Oh, but I fear what may happen,” she answered,
‘Cand the advantage is on his side.”

“Why, lady, what advantage can there be when
both fight alike?” asked: Joyless.

“Yes, but he bears a charmed shield,” said Duessa,
“and also enchanted armour that no one can pierce.
None can wound the man that wears them.”

“Charmed or enchanted, I care not at all,” said Joy-
less fiercely, “nor need you tell me anything more about
them. But, fair lady, go back whence you came and

36
The Battle for the Shield

rest awhile. To-morrow I shall subdue the Red Cross
Knight, and give you the heritage of dead Faithless.”











































































“Wherever I am, my secret aid shall follow you,”
she answered, and then she left him.
At the first gleam of dawn the Red Cross Knight
Sy.
Whe Wed Gross mode

sprang up and dressed himself for battle in his sun-
bright armour. Forth he stepped into the halJ, where
there were many waiting to gaze at him, curious to
know what fate was in store for the stranger knight.
Many minstrels were there, making melody to drive
away sadness; many singers that could tune their voices
skilfully to harp and’viol; many chroniclers that could
tell old stories of love and war.

Soon after, came the pagan knight, Joyless, warily
armed in woven mail. He looked sternly at the Red
Cross Knight, who cared not at all how any living
creature looked at him. Cups of wine were brought
to the warriors, with dainty Eastern spices, and they
both swore a solemn oath to observe faithfully the
laws of just and fair fighting.

At last, with royal pomp, came the Queen. She
was led to a railed-in space of the green field, and
placed under a stately canopy. On the other side, full
in all men’s view, sat Duessa, and on a tree near was
hung the shield of Faithless. Both Duessa and the
shield were to be given to the victor.

A shrill trumpet bade them prepare for battle.
The pagan knight was stout and strong, and his blows
fell like great iron hammers. He fought for cruelty
and vengeance. The Red Cross Knight was fierce, and
full of youthful courage; he fought for praise and
honour. So furious was their onslaught that sparks of
fire flew from their shields, and deep marks were hewn
in their helmets.

Thus they fought, the one for wrong, the other for
right, and each tried to put his foe to shame. At last

38
The Battle for the Shield

Joyless chanced to look at his brother’s shield which
was hanging near. The sight of this doubled his anger,
and he struck at his foe with such fury that the Knight
reeled twice, and seemed likely to fall. To those who
looked on, the end of the battle appeared doubtful, and
false Duessa began to call loudly to Joyless, —

“ Thine the shield, and I, and all!’

Directly the Red Cross nee heard her voice he
woke out of the faintness that had overcome him; his
faith, which had grown weak, suddenly became oe
and he shook off the deadly cold that was creeping
over him.

This time he attacked Joyless with such vigour that
he brought himdownupon his knees. Lifting his sword,
he would have slain him, when suddenly a dark cloud fell
between them. Joyless was seen no more; he had van-
ished! The Knight called aloud to him, but received no
answer : his foe was completely hidden by the darkness.

Duessa rose hastily from her place, and ran to the
Red Cross Knight, saying,—-

‘O noblest Knight, be angry no longer! Some
evil power has covered your enemy with the cloud of
night, and borne him away to the regions of darkness.
The conquest is yours, I am yours, the shield and the
glory are yours.’

Then the trumpets sounded, and running heralds
made humble homage, and the shield, the cause of all
the enmity, was brought to the Red Cross Knight.
He went to the Queen, and, kneeling before her, offered
her his service, which she accepted with thanks and
much satisfaction, greatly praising his chivalry.

39


The Red Cross Knight

So they marched home, the Knight next the Queen,
while all the people followed with great glee, shout-
ing and clapping their hands. When they got to the
palace the Knight was given gentle attendants and
skilled doctors, for he had been badly hurt in the fight.
His wounds were washed with wine, and oil, and heal-
ing herbs, and all the while lovely music was played
round his bed to beguile him from grief and pain.

While this was happening, Duessa secretly left the
palace, and stole away to the Kingdom of Darkness,
which is ruled over by the Queen of Night. This
queen was a friend of her own, and was always ready
to help in any bad deeds. Duessa told her of what
had befallen the pagan knight, Joyless, and persuaded
her to carry him away to her owndominions. Here he
was placed under the care of a wonderful doctor, who
was able to cure people by magic, and Duessa hastened
back to the House of Pride.

When she got there she was dismayed to find that
the Red Cross Knight had already left, although he
was not nearly healed from the wounds which he
had received in battle.

The reason why he left was this. One day his
servant, whose name you may remember was Prudence,
came and told him that he had discovered in the palace
a huge, deep dungeon, full of miserable prisoners.
Hundreds of men and women were there, wailing and
lamenting—grand lords and beautiful ladies, who, from
foolish behaviour or love of idle pomp, had wasted
their wealth and fallen into the power of the wicked
Queen of Pride.

40
Una and the Woodland Knight
When the good Red Cross Knight heard this, he

determined to stay no longer in such a place of peril.
Rising before dawn, he left by a small side door, for
he knew that if he were seen he would be at once put to
death. ‘To him the place no more seemed beautiful ;
it filled him with horror and disgust. Riding under
the castle wall, the way was strewn with hundreds of
dead bodies of those who had perished miserably.
Such was the dreadful sight of the House of Pride.

Una and the Woodland Knight

We left Una in a piteous plight, in the hands of a
cruel enemy, the pagan knight Lawless. ,

Paying no heed to her tears and entreaties, he
placed her on his horse, and rode off with her till he
came to a great forest.,

Una was almost in despair, for there seemed no
hope of any rescue. But suddenly there came a
wonderful way of deliverance.

In the midst of the thick wood Lawless halted to
rest. ‘This forest was inhabited by numbers of strange
wild creatures, quite untaught, almost savages. Hear-
ing Una’s cries for help, they came flocking up to see
what was the matter. Their fierce, rough appearance
so frightened Lawless that he jumped on to his horse
and rode away as fast as he could.

When the wild wood-folk came up they found
Una sitting desolate and alone. They were amazed
at such a strange sight, and pitied her sad condition.

41
The Red Cross Knight

They all stood astonished at her loveliness, and could
not imagine how she had come there.

Una, for her part, was greatly terrified, not know-
ing whether some fresh danger awaited her. Half in
fear, half in hope, she sat still in amazement. Seeing
that she looked so sorrowful, the savages tried to show
that they meant to be friendly. They smiled, and came
forward gently, and kissed her feet. Then she guessed
that their hearts were kind, and she arose fearlessly
and went with them, no longer afraid of any evil.

Full of gladness, they led her along, shouting and
singing and dancing round her, and strewing all the
ground with green branches, as if she had been a queen.
Thus they brought her to their chief, old Sylvanus.

When Sylvanus saw her, like the rest he was
astonished at her beauty, for he had never seen any-
thing so fair. Her fame spread through the forest,
and all the other dwellers in it came to look at her.
The Hamadryads, who live in the trees, and the
Naiades, who live in the flowing fountains, all came
flocking to see her lovely face. As for the wood-
landers, henceforth they thought no one on earth fair
but Una.

Glad at such good fortune, Una was quite con-
tented to please the simple folk. She stayed a long
while with them, to gather strength after her many
troubles. During this time she did her best to teach
them, but the poor things were so ignorant, it was
almost impossible to make them understand the differ-
ence between right and wrong.

It chanced one day that a noble knight came to

42
ihe Balse Pilerun

the forest to seek his kindred who dwelt there. He
had won much glory in wars abroad, and distant lands
were filled with his fame. He was honest, faithful,
and true, though not very polished in manner, nor
accustomed to a courtly life. His name was Sir Saty-
rane. He had been born and brought up in the forest,
and his father had taught him nothing but to be utterly
fearless. When he grew up, and could master every-
thing in the forest, he went abroad to fight foreign foes,
and his fame was soon carried through all lands. It
was always his custom, after some time spent in labour
and adventure, to return for a while to his native
woods, and so it happened on this occasion that he
came across Una.

The first time he saw her she was surrounded by
the savages, whom she was trying to teach good and
holy things. Sir Satyrane wondered at the wisdom
which fell from her sweet lips, and when, later on, he
saw her gentle and kindly deeds, he began to admire
and love her. Although noble at heart, he had never
had any one to teach him, but now he began to learn
from Una faith and true religion.

The False Pilgrim

Una’s thoughts were still fixed on the Red Cross
Knight, and she was sorry to think of his perilous
wandering. She was always sad at heart, and spent
her time planning how to escape. At last she told
her wish to Sir Satyrane, who, glad to please her in

43
The Red Cross Knight

any way, began to devise how he could help her to get
free from the savage folk. One day, when Una was
left alone, all the woodlanders having gone to pay
court to their chief, old Sylvanus, she and Sir Satyrane
rode away together. They went so fast and so care-
fully that no one could overtake them, and thus at
last they came to the end of the forest, and out into
the open plain.

Towards evening, after they had journeyed a long
distance, they met a traveller. He seemed as if he
were a poor, simple pilgrim; his clothes were dusty
and travel-worn; his face brown and scorched with
the sun; he leant upon a staff, and carried all his neces-
saries in a scrip, or little bag, hanging behind.

Sir Satyrane asked if there were any tidings of new
adventures, but the stranger had heard of none. ‘Then
Una began to ask if he knew anything about a knight
who wore on his shield a red cross.

“Alas! dear lady,” he replied, ‘I may well grieve
to tell you the sad news! I have seen that knight with
my own eyes, both alive and also dead.”

When Una heard these cruel words she was filled
-with sorrow and dismay, and begged the pilgrim to tell
her everything he knew.

Then he related how*on that very morning he had
seen two knights preparing for battle. One was a
pagan, the other was the Red Cross Knight. They
fought with great fury, and in the end the Red Cross
Knight was slain.

This story was altogether false. The pretended
pilgrim was no other than the wicked enchanter

44


i hi | Bei
W N ig il ;
shad ify \e RAR

\ Ae A \. 6 4,



mm



“ The ‘knight, approaching nigh, of bim inquired
Tidings of warre, and of adventures new.”










Giant Pride

Archimago, or Hypocrisy, in a fresh disguise. But Sir
Satyrane and Una believed everything he told them.

“Where is this pagan now?” asked Satyrane.

“Not far from here,” replied the pilgrim; “I
left him resting beside a fountain.”

Thereupon Sir Satyrane hastily marched off, and
soon came to the place where he guessed that the
other would be found. This pagan knight turned
out to be Lawless, from whom, you may remember,
Una had escaped in the forest, before she was found
by the woodlanders. Sir Satyrane challenged Law-
less to fight, and they were soon engaged in a fierce
battle. Poor Una was so terrified at this new peril,
and in such dread of Lawless, that she did not wait
to see what the end would be, but fled far away as
fast as she could.

Archimago had been watching everything from a
secret hiding-place. Now, when he saw Una escaping,
he quickly followed, for he hoped to be able to work
her some further mischief.

Giant Pride

When Duessa found that the Red Cross Knight had
left the palace of Queen Lucifera, she immediately set
out in search of him. It was not long before she found
him where he sat wearily by the side of a fountain to
rest himself. He had taken off all his armour, and his
steed was cropping the grass close by. It was pleasant
in the cool shade, and the soft wind blew refreshingly

47
The Red Cross Knight




upon his forehead,
while, in the trees
above, numbers of
singing birds de-
lighted him with
their sweet music.

Duessa at first
pretended to be
angry with the
Knight for leaving
her so unkindly, but
they were soon good
friends again. They
stayed for some time
beside the fountain, where the green boughs sheltered
them from the scorching heat.

But although it looked so lovely and tempting,
the fountain near which they sat was an enchanted one.
Whoever tasted its waters grew faint and feeble.

The Knight, not knowing this, stooped down to
drink of the stream, which was as clear as crystal. Then

48
Giant Pride

all his strength turned to weakness, his courage melted
away, and a deadly chill crept over him.

At first he scarcely noticed the change, for he had
grown careless both of himself and of his fame. But
suddenly he heard a dreadful sound—a loud bellowing
which echoed through the wood. The earth seemed
to shake with terror, and all the trees trembled. The
Knight, astounded, started up, and tried to seize his
weapons. But before he could put on his armour, or get
his shield, his monstrous enemy came stalking into sight.

It was a hideous Giant, great and horrible. The
ground groaned under him. He was taller than three
of the tallest men put together. His name was
Orgoglio, or Pride, and his father’s name was lgnor-
ance. We was puffed up with arrogance and conceit,
and because he was so big and strong he despised every
one else. He leant upon a gnarled oak, which he had
torn up by its roots from the earth; it also served
him as a weapon to dismay his foemen.

When he saw the Knight he advanced to him with
dreadful fury. The latter, quite helpless, all in vain
tried to prepare for battle. Disarmed, disgraced, in-
wardly dismayed, and faint in every limb, he could
scarcely wield even his useless blade. The Giant aimed
such a merciless stroke at him, that if it had touched
him it would have crushed him to powder. But the
Knight leapt lightly to one side, and thus escaped the
blow. So great, however, was the wind that the club
made in whirling through the air that the Knight was
overthrown, and Jay on the ground stunned.

When Giant Pride saw his enemy lying helpless, he

49 D
The Red Cross Knight

lifted up his club to kill him, but Duessa called to
him to stay his hand.

“O great Orgoglio,” she cried, ‘spare him for my
sake, and do not kill him. Now that he is vanquished
make him your bond-slave, and, if you like, I will be
your wife!”

Giant Pride was quite pleased with this arrangement,
and, taking up the Red Cross Knight before he could
awake from his swoon, he carried him hastily to his
castle, and flung him, without pity, into a deep dungeon.

As for Duessa, from that day forth she was treated
with the greatest honour. She was given gold and
purple to wear, and a triple crown was placed upon her
head, and every one had to obey her as if she were a
queen. To make her more dreaded, Orgoglio gave
her a hideous dragon to ride. This dragon had seven
heads, with gleaming eyes, and its body seemed made
of iron and brass. Everything good that came within
its reach it swept away with a great long tail, and then
trampled under foot.

All the people’s hearts were filled with terror when
they saw Duessa riding on her dragon.

Prince Arthur

When the Red Cross Knight was made captive by
Giant Pride and carried away, Prudence, his servant,
who had seen his master’s fall, sorrowfully collected his
forsaken possessions—his mighty armour, missing when
most needed, his silver shield, now idle and masterless,

50
Prince Arthur

his sharp spear that had done good service in many a
fray. With these he departed to tell his sad tale.

He had not gone far when he met Una, flying
from the scene of battle, while Sir Satyrane hindered
Lawless from pursuing her. When she saw Prudence
carrying the armour of the Red Cross Knight, she
guessed something terrible had happened, and fell to
the ground as if she were dying of sorrow.

Unhappy Prudence would gladly have died himself,
but he did his best to restore Una to life. When she
had recovered she implored him to tell her what had
occurred.

Then the dwarf told her everything that had taken
place since they parted. How the crafty Archimago
had deceived the Red Cross Knight by his wiles, and
made him believe that Una had left him; how the
Knight had slain Faithless and had taken pity on Duessa
because of the false tales she told. Prudence also told
Una all about the House of Pride and its perils; he
described the fight which the Knight had with Joyless,
and lastly, he told about the luckless conflict with the
great Giant Pride, when the Knight was made captive,
whether living or dead he knew not.

Una listened patiently, and bravely tried to master
her sorrow, which almost broke her heart, for she dearly
loved the Red Cross Knight, for whose sake she had
borne so many troubles. At last she rose, quite resolved
to find him, alive or dead. The dwarf pointed out the
way by which Giant Pride had carried his prisoner, and
Una started on her quest. Long she wandered, through
woods and across valleys, high over hills, and low

Si
The Red Cross Knight

among the dales, tossed by storms and beaten by the
wind, but still keeping steadfast to her purpose.

At last she chanced by good fortune to meet a
knight, marching with his squire. This knight was
the most glorious she had ever seen. His glittering
armour shone far off, like the glancing light of the
brightest ray of sunshine; it covered him from top to
toe, and left no place unguarded. Across his breast he
wore a splendid belt, covered with jewels that sparkled
like stars. Among the jewels was one of great value,
which shone with such brilliancy that it amazed all who
beheld it. Close to this jewel hung the knight’s sword,
in an ivory sheath, carved with curious devices. The
hilt was of burnished gold, the handle of mother-of-
pearl, and it was buckled on with a golden clasp.

The helmet of this knight was also of gold, and for
crest it had a golden dragon with wings. On the top of
all was a waving plume, decked with sprinkled pearls,
which shook and danced in every little breath of wind.

The shield of the warrior was closely covered, and
might never be seen by mortal eye. It was not made
of steel nor of brass, but of one perfect and entire
diamond. This had been hewn out of the adamant
rock with mighty engines; no point of spear could ever
pierce it, nor dint of sword break it asunder.

This shield the knight never showed to mortals,
unless he wished to dismay some huge monster or to
frighten large armies that fought unfairly against him.
No magic arts nor enchanter’s spell had any power
against it. Everything that was not exactly what it
seemed to be faded before it and fell to ruin.

BD,
Prince Arthur

The maker of the shield was supposed to be
Merlin, a mighty magician; he made it with the
sword and armour for this young prince when the
latter first took to arms.

_ The name of the knight was Prince Arthur, type
of all Virtue and Magnificence, and pattern of all true
Knighthood.

His squire bore after him his spear of ebony wood ;
he was a gallant and noble youth, who managed his
fiery steed with much skill and courage.

When Prince Arthur came near Una, he greeted
her with much courtesy. By her unwilling answers he
guessed that some secret sorrow was troubling her, and
he hoped that his gentle and kindly words would
persuade her to tell him the cause of her grief.

‘What good will it do to speak of it?” said Una.
‘When I think of my sorrow it seems to me better
to keep it hidden than to make it worse by speaking of
Ait Nothing in the world can lighten my misfortunes.
My last comfort is to be left alone to weep for them.”

“Ah, dear lady,” said the gentle Knight, “I know
well that your grief is great, for it makes me sad even
to hear you speak of it. But let me entreat you to
tell me what is troubling you. Misfortunes may be
overcome by good advice, and wise counsel will lessen
the worst injury. He who never tells of his hurts will
never find help.”

His words were so kind and reasonable that-Una
was soon persuaded to tell him her whole story. She
began with the time when she had gone to the Court
of Queen Gloriana to seek a champion to release her

13
The Red Cross Knight

parents from the horrible dragon, and ended with the
account of how the Red Cross Knight had fallen a prey
to Giant Pride, who now held him captive in a dark
dungeon.

“Truly, lady, you have much cause to grieve,” said
Prince Arthur when the story was finished. ‘‘ But be of
good cheer, and take comfort. Rest assured I will never
forsake you until I have set free your captive Knight.”

His cheerful words revived Una’s drooping heart,
and so they set forth on their journey, Prudence guiding
them in the right way.

The Wondrous Bugle and the Mighty Shield

Badly indeed would it now have fared with the Red
Cross Knight had it not been for the Lady Una. Even
good people daily fall into sin and temptation, but as
often as their own foolish pride or weakness leads them
astray, so often will Divine love and care rescue them,
if only they repent of their misdoings. ‘Thus we see
how Holiness, in the guise of the Red Cross Knight,
was for a while cast down and defeated; yet in the end,
because he truly repented) help was given him to fight
again and conquer.

Prince Arthur and the Lady Una travelled till they
came to a castle which was built very strong and high.

“Lo,” cried the dwarf, ‘‘ yonder is the place where
my unhappy master is held captive by that cruel
tyrant!”

The Prince at once dismounted, and bade Una stay

54
The Wondrous Bugle

to see what would happen. He marched with his
squire to the castle walls, where he found the gates
shut fast. There was no warder to guard them, nor
to answer to the call of any who came.

Then the squire took a small bugle which hung at
- his side with twisted gold and gay tassels. Wonderful
stories were told about that bugle; every one trembled
with dread at its shrill sound. It could easily be heard
three miles off, and whenever it was blown it echoed
three times. No false enchantment or deceitful snare
could stand before the terror of that blast. No gate
was so strong, no lock so firm and fast, but at that
piercing noise it flew open or burst.

This was the bugle which Prince Arthur’s squire
blew before the gate of Giant Pride. Then the whole
castle quaked, and every door flew open. The Giant

himself, dismayed at the sound, came rushing forth in-

haste from an inner bower, to see what was the reason

of this sudden uproar, and to discover who had dared ©

to brave his power. After him came Duessa, riding on
her dragon with the seven heads; every head had a
crown on it, and a fiery tongue of flame.

When Prince Arthur saw Giant Pride, he took his
mighty shield and flew at him fiercely ; the Giant lifted
up his club to smite him, but the Prince leaped to one
side, and the weapon, missing him, buried itself with such
force in the ground, that the Giant could not quickly
pull it out again. Then with his sharp sword Prince
Arthur struck at the Giant, and wounded him severely.

Duessa, seeing her companion’s danger, urged for-
ward her dragon to help him, but the brave squire sprang

5
The Red Cross Knight

in between it and the Prince, and with his drawn sword
drove it back. ‘Then the angry Duessa took a golden
cup, which she always carried, and which was full of a
secret poison. ‘Those who drank of that cup either died,
or else felt despair seize them. She lightly sprinkled
the squire with the contents of this cup, and immedi-
ately his courage faded away, and he was filled with
sudden dread. He fell down before the cruel dragon,
' who seized him with its claws, and nearly crushed the
life out of him. He had no power nor will to stir.

When Prince Arthur saw what had happened, he
left Giant Pride and turned against the dragon, for he
was deeply grieved to see his beloved squire in such peril.
He soon drove back the horrible creature, but now once
again the Giant rushed at him with his club, This time
the blow struck the Prince with such force, that it bore
him to the ground. In the fall, his shield, that had been
covered, lost by chance its veil, and flew open.

Then through the air flashed such a blazing bright-
ness, that no eye could bear to look upon it. Grant
Pride let fall the weapon with which he was just going
to slay the Prince, and the dragon was struck blind,
and tumbled on the ground.

“Oh, help, Orgoglio, help, or we all perish!” cried
Duessa.

Gladly would Giant Pride have helped her, but all
was in vain; when that light shone he had no power
to hurt others, nor to defend himself ; so Prince Arthur

soon killed him.
When he was dead, his great body, that had seemed
so big and strong, suddenly melted away, and nothing
56
The Wondrous Bugle

was left but what looked like the shrivelled skin of a”
broken balloon; for, after all, there was no real sub-

stance in him, but he was simply puffed out with empti-

ness and conceit, and his grand appearance was nothing

but a sham.

So that was the end of Giant Pride.

When false Duessa saw the fall of Giant Pride she
flung down her golden cup, and threw aside her crown,
and fled away. But the squire followed, and soon took
her prisoner. Telling him to keep safe guard on her,
Prince Arthur boldly entered the Giant’s Castle. Not
a living creature could he spy; he called loudly, but
no one answered; a solemn silence reigned everywhere,
not a voice was to be heard, not a person seen, in
bower or hall.

At last an old, old man, with beard as white as
snow, came creeping along; he guided his feeble steps
with a staff, for long ago his sight had failed. On his
arm he bore a bunch of keys, all covered with rust. They
were the keys of all the doors inside the castle; they
were never used, but he still kept possession of them.

It was curious to see the way in which this old man
walked, for always, as he went forward, he kept his
wrinkled face turned back, as if he were trying to
look behind. He was the keeper of the place, and
the father of the dead Giant Pride; his name was
Lenorance.

Prince Arthur, as was fitting, honoured his grey
hair and gravity, and gently asked him where all the
people were who used to live in that stately building.
The old man softly answered him that he could not

57
The Red Cross Knight

tell, Again the Prince asked where was the Knight
whom the Giant had taken captive?

**T cannot tell,” said the old man.

Then the Prince asked which was the way into the
castle, and again he got the same answer, ‘I cannot
tell.”

At first he thought the man was mocking him, and
began to be much displeased. But presently, seeing
that the poor old thing could not help his foolishness,
he wisely calmed his anger. Going up to. him he took
the keys from his arm, and made an entrance for him-
self. He opened each door without the least difficulty ;
there was no one to challenge him, nor any bars to
hinder his passage.

Inside the castle he found the whole place fitted
up in the most splendid manner, decked with royal
tapestry, and shining with gold, fit for the presence of
the greatest prince. But all the floors were dirty, and
strewn with ashes, for it was here that the wicked
Giant Pride used to slay his unhappy victims.

Prince Arthur sought through every room, but
nowhere could he find the Red Cross Knight. At last
he came to an iron door, which was fast locked, but
- he found no key among the bunch to open it. In the
door, however, there was a little grating, and through
this the Prince called as loudly as he could, to know
if there were any living person shut up there whom he
could set free.

Then there came a hollow voice in answer. ‘‘ Oh,
who is that who brings to me the happy choice of
death? Here I lie, dying every hour, yet still compelled

58








“Wbome when bis Lady saw, to bim she tan
Wlith basty joy: to sce bim made ber glad,
Fund sad to view bis visage pale and wan.”

The Wondrous Bugle

to live, bound in horrible darkness. Three months
have come and gone since I beheld the light of day.
Oh, welcome, you who bring true tidings of death.” -

When Prince Arthur heard these words his heart
was so filled with pity and horror at any noble knight
being thus shamefully treated, that, in his strength and
indignation, he rent open the iron door. But entering,
he found no floor; there was a deep descent, as dark
as a pit, from which came up a horrible deadly smell.

Neither darkness, however, nor dirt, nor poisonous
smell could turn the Prince from his purpose, and he
went forward courageously. With great trouble and
difficulty he found means to raise the captive, whose
own limbs were too feeble to bear him, and then he
‘carried him out of the castle.

What a mournful picture was now the Red Cross
Knight! His dull, sunken eyes could not bear the
unaccustomed. light of the sun ; his cheeks were thin
and gaunt; his mighty arms, that had fought so often
and so bravely, were nothing now but bones; all his
strength was gone, and all his flesh shrunk up like a
withered flower.

When Una saw Prince Arthur carrying the Red
Cross Knight out of the castle she ran to them joy-
fully; it made her glad even to see the Knight, but
she was full of sorrow at the sight of his pale, wan
face, which had formerly been radiant with the glory
of youth.

““My dearest lord,” she cried, “what evil star has’
frowned on you and changed you thus? But welcome —

now, in weal or woe, my dear lord whom I have lost
61
The Red Cross Knight

too long! Fate, who has been our foe so long, will
injure us no further, but shall pay penance with three-
fold good for all these wrongs.”

The unhappy man, dazed with misery, had no
desire to speak of his troubles; his long-endured
famine needed more relief.

“Fair lady,” then said the victorious Prince,
‘things that were grievous to do or to bear it brings
no pleasure to recall. The only good that comes from
past danger is to make us wiser and more careful ‘for
the future. This day’s example has deeply written this
lesson on my heart—perfect happiness can never be
lasting while we still live on earth.

“ Henceforth, Sir Knight,” he continued, “take to
yourself your old strength, and master these mishaps
by patience. Look where your foe lies vanquished,
and the wicked woman, Duessa, the cause of all your
misery, stands in your power, to let her live or die.”

“To kill her would be to act unworthily,” said
Una, ‘‘and it would be a shame to avenge one’s self
on such a weak enemy. But take off her scarlet robe
and let her fly!”

So they did as Una bade them. They took from
Duessa all her finery—her royal robe, and purple cloak,
and all the rich ornaments with which she was decked.
And when this disguise was taken from her, they saw
her as she really was—old, and ugly, and bad. She
would no longer be able to deceive people by her pre-
tended goodness, and youth, and beauty, for every one
who saw her shrunk away in horror.

“Such,” said Una, “is the face of Falsehood when
62
The Knight with Hempen Rope

its borrowed light is laid aside, and all its deceitfulness
is made known.”

Thus, having taken from Duessa her power to work
evil, they set her free to go-where she pleased. She
fled to a barren wilderness, where she lurked unseen in
rocks and caves, for she always hated the light.

But Prince Arthur, and the Red Cross Knight, and
fair Una stayed for awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, to
rest themselves and to recover their strength. And here
they found a goodly store of all that was dainty and rare.

The Knight with the Hempen Rope

When the two Knights and the Lady Una had
rested awhile in the castle of Giant Pride, they set out
again on their journey. Before they parted, Prince
Arthur and the Red Cross Knight gave each other
beautiful gifts—tokens of love and friendship. Prince
Arthur gave a box of adamant, embossed with gold,
and richly ornamented ; in it were enclosed a few drops
of a precious liquid of wonderful power, which would
immediately'heal any wound. In return the Red Cross
Knight gave the Prince a Bible, all written with golden
letters, rich and beautiful.

Thus they parted, Prince Arthur to go about his
own work, and the Knight to fight the terrible Dragon
that was laying waste the kingdom that belonged to
Una’s father and mother. But she, seeing how thin
and ill her champion looked, and knowing that he was
still weak and weary, would not hasten forward, nor

63
The Red Cross Knight

let him run the chance of any further fighting, until
he had recovered his former strength.

As they travelled, they presently saw an armed.
knight galloping towards them. It seemed as though
_ he were flying from a dreaded foe, or some other grisly

thing. As he fled, his eyes kept looking backwards as
if the object of his terror were pursuing him, and his
horse flew as if it had wings to its feet.

When he came nearer they saw that his head was
bare, his hair almost standing on end with fright, and
his face very pale. Round his neck was a hempen
rope, suiting ill with his glittering armour.

The Red Cross Knight rode up to him, but could
scarcely prevail upon him to stop.

“Sir Knight,” he said, “pray tell us who hath
arrayed you like this, and from whom you are flying,
for never saw I warrior in so unseemly a plight.”

The stranger seemed dazed with fear, and at first
answered nothing; but after the gentle Knight had
spoken to him several times, at last he replied with
faltering tongue, and trembling in every limb: “I
beseech you, Sir Knight, do not stop me, for lo! he
comes—he comes fast after me!”

With that he again tried to run away, but the Red
Cross Knight prevented him, and tried to persuade him
to say what was the matter.

“Am I really safe from him who would have
forced me to die?” said the stranger. “May I tell
my luckless story?”

“Fear nothing,” said the Knight; “no danger is
near now.”

64


“o as they traveild, lo! they gan espy
Fn armed knight towards them gallop tast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing that bim agbast.”

E

The Knight with Hempen Rope

Then the stranger told how he and another knight
had lately been companions. The name of his friend
was Sir Terwin. He was bold and brave, but because
everything did not go exactly as he wished, he was not
happy. One day when they were feeling very sad and
comfortless, they met a man whose name was Despazr.
Greeting them in a friendly fashion, Despair soon con-
trived to find out from them what they were feeling,
and then he went on to make the worst of everything.
He told them there was no hope that things would get
any better, and tried to persuade them to put an end
to all further trouble by killing themselves. ‘To Sir
Terwin he lent a rusty knife, and to the other knight
a rope. Sir Terwin, who was really very unhappy,
killed himself at once; but Sir Trevisan, dismayed at
the sight, fled fast away, with the rope still round his
neck, half dead with fear.

“May you never hear the tempting speeches of
Despair,” he ended.

“‘ How could idle talking persuade a man to put
an end to his life?” said the Red Cross Knight. He
was ready to despise the danger, and he trusted in his
own strength to withstand it.

“‘7 know,” said the stranger, ‘‘for trial has lately
taught me; nor would I go through the like again for
the world’s wealth. His cunning, like sweetest honey,
drops into the heart, and all else is forgotten. Before
one knows it, all power is secretly stolen, and only
weakness remains. Oh, sir, do not wish ever to meet
with Despair.”

“Truly,” said the Red Cross Knight, “I shall

67
The Red Cross Knight

never rest till I have heard what the traitor has to
say for himself. And, Sir Knight, I beg of you, as
a favour, to guide me to his cabin.”

“To do you a favour, I will ride back with you
against my will,” said Sir Trevisan; “but not for gold,
nor for anything else will I remain with you when you
arrive at the place. I would rather die than see his
deadly face again.”

In the Cave of Despair

Sir Trevisan and the Red Cross Knight soon came
to the place where Despair had his dwelling. It was
in a hollow cave, far underneath a craggy cliff, dark
and dreary. On the top always perched a melancholy
owl, shrieking his dismal note, which drove all cheerful
birds far away. All around were dead and withered
trees, on which no fruit nor leaf ever grew.

When they arrived, Sir Trevisan would have fled
in terror, not daring to go near, but the Red Cross
Knight forced him to stay, and soothed his fears.

They entered the gloomy cave, where they found a
miserable man sitting on the ground, musing sullenly.
He had greasy, unkempt locks, and dull and hollow
eyes, and his cheeks were thin and shrunken, as if he
never got enough to eat. His garment was nothing
but rags, all patched, and pinned together with thorns.
“At his side lay the dead body of Sir Terwin, just as
Sir Trevisan had told.

When the Red Cross Knight saw this sad sight, all

68






“ ve long they come where that same wicked wight
‘bis dwelling bas, [ow in a bollow cave,
For underneath a craggy cliff yppight,
Datk, Ooleful, dreary, like a greedy grave,
That still for carrion carcases doth crave,”

In the Cave of Despair

his courage blazed up in the desire to avenge him, and
he said to Despair, “Wretched man! you are the cause
of this man’s death. It is only just that you should
pay the price of his life with your own.”

“Why do you speak so rashly?” said Despair.
‘Does not justice teach that he should die who does
not deserve to live? This man killed himself by his
own wish. Is it unjust to give to each man his due?
Or to let him die who hates to live longer? Or to
let him die in peace who lives here in trouble? Ifa
man travels by a weary, wandering way, and comes to
a great flood between him and his wished-for home, is
it not a gracious act to help him to pass over it?
Foolish man! would you not help him to gain rest,
who has long dwelt here in woe?”

Thus spoke Despair, and he said many beautiful
and persuasive words concerning Death. And as the
Red Cross Knight listened, all his courage and all his
anger melted away, and it seemed to him that there
would be no sweeter thing in the whole world than to
lie down and be at rest.

“‘ What is the good of living?” said Despair. ‘The
longer you live the more sins you commit. All those
great battles that you are so proud of winning, all this
strife and bloodshed and revenge, which are praised
now, hereafter you will be sorry for. Has not your
evil life lasted long enough? He that hath once missed
the right way, the farther he goes, the farther he goes
wrong. Go no farther, then—stray no farther. Lie
down here and take your rest. What has life to make
men love it so? Fear, sickness, age, loss, labour,

71
The Red Cross Knight

sorrow, strife, pain, hunger, cold, and fickle fortune,
all these, and a thousand more ills make life to be
hated rather than loved. Wretched man! you indeed
have the greatest need of death if you will truly judge
your own conduct. Never did knight who dared war-
like deeds meet with more luckless adventures. Think
of the deep dungeon wherein you were lately shut up ;
how often then did you wish for death! Though by
good luck you escaped from there, yet death would
prevent any further mischance into which you may
happen to fall.”

Then Despair went on to speak to the Red Cross
Knight of all his sins. He pointed out the many
wrong things he had done, and said that he had been
so faithless and wicked that there was no hope for
him of any mercy or forgiveness. Rather than live
longer and add to his sins, it would be better for him
to die at once, and put an end to all.

The Knight was greatly moved by this speech,
which pierced his heart like a sword. Too well he
knew that it was all true. There came to his conscience
such a vivid memory of all his wrongdoings that all
his strength melted away, as if a spell had bewitched
him. When Despair saw him waver and grow weak,
and that-his soul was deeply troubled, he tried all the
harder to drive him to utter misery.

“Think of all your sins,” he said. ‘God is very
angry with you. You are not worthy to live. It 1s only
just that you should die. Better kill yourself at once.”

Then Despair went and fetched a dagger, sharp and
keen, and gave it to the Red Cross Knight. Trembling

72
The House of Holiness

like an aspen-leaf, the Knight took it, and lifted up
his hand to slay himself.

When Una saw this, she grew cold with ‘horror,
but, starting forward, she snatched the knife from his
hand, and threw it to the ground, greatly enraged.

“ Fie, fie, faint-hearted Knight!” she cried. ‘What
is the meaning of this shameful strife? Is ¢4zs the battle
which you boasted you would fight with the horrible
fiery Dragon? Come, come away, feeble and faithless
man! Let no vain words deceive your manly heart, nor
wicked thoughts dismay your brave spirit. Have you
not a share in heavenly mercy? Why should you then
despair who have been chosen to fight the good fight?
If there is Justice, there is also Forgiveness, which
soothes the anguish of remorse and blots out the record -
of sin. Arise, Sir Knight, arise and leave this evil place.”

So up he rose, and straightway left the cave. When
Despair saw this, and that his guest would safely depart
in spite of all his beguiling words, he took a rope and
tried to hang himself. But though he had tried to
kill himself a thousand times, he could never do so,
until the last day comes when all evil things shall
perish for ever.

How le Red Cross Knight came to the
House of Holiness

The bravest man who boasts of. bodily strength
may often find his moral courage fail in the hour of
temptation. If he gain the victory, let him not

3
The Red Cross Knight

ascribe it to his own skill, but rather to the grace
of God.

From what had happened in the Cave of Despair,
Una saw that her Knight had grown faint and feeble ;
his long imprisonment had wasted away all his strength, -
and he was still quite unfit to fight. Therefore she
determined to bring him to a place where he might
refresh himself, and recover from his late sad plight.

There was an ancient house not far away, renowned
through all the world for its goodness and holy learn-
ing, so well was it guided and governed by a wise
matron. Her only joy was to comfort those in trouble
and to help the helpless poor. She was called Dame
Celia — the “Heavenly Lady’ — and she had three
beautiful daughters, Fidelia (/azth), Speranza (/fofe),
and Charissa (Love).

Arrived at the House of Holiness, they found the
door fast locked, for it was warily watched, night and
day, for fear of many foes. But when they knocked,
the porter straightway opened to them. He was an
aged man, with grey hair and slow footsteps; his name
was LYumility. ‘They passed in, stooping low, for the
way he showed them was strait and narrow, even as
all good things are hardest at the beginning. But
when they had entered they saw a spacious court,
very pleasant to walk in. Here they were met by a
frank, honest-looking man, called Zeal, who gladly
acted as their guide till they came to the hall.

The squire of the household recetved them, and
made them welcome; his name was Reverence. He
was very gentle, modest, and sincere, always treating

74
The House of Holiness

every one with the greatest kindness and courtesy, not
from any pretended politeness, but because of his own
good and sweet disposition.

He conducted them to the lady of the house, who
was busied: as usual in some good works. Directly
Dame Celia saw Una, she knew who she was; her
heart filled with joy, and she put her arms round her
and kissed her.

“Oh, happy earth,” she cried, “whereon your
innocent feet still tread! What good fortune has
brought you this way, or did you wander here un-
knowingly? It is strange to see a knight-errant in
this place, or any other man, for there are few who
choose the narrow path or seek the right.”

Una replied that.they had come to rest their weary
limbs, and to see the lady herself, whose fame and
praise had reached them.

Then Dame Celia entertained them with every
courtesy she could think of, and nothing was lacking
to show her generosity and wisdom. Whilst they were
talking, two beautiful maidens came in; they were
Faith and Hope, the daughters of the lady. Faith
was arrayed all in lily-white, and her face shone like
the light of the sun; in one hand she held a book.
Her younger sister, Hope, was clad all in blue, and
carried a silver anchor; her face was not as cheerful
as Faith’s, but it was very noble and steadfast.

Presently a servant, called Odedzence, came and
conducted the guests to their rooms, in order that they
might rest awhile. Afterwards Una asked Faith if she
would allow the Red Cross Knight to enter her school-

le) ;
The Red Cross Knight

house, in order that he might share in her heavenly
learning, and hear the divine wisdom of her words.

‘So the Knight went to school to learn of Faith, ©
and many were the wondrous things she taught him.
Now he saw in its true light all the error of his
ways, and he began truly to repent of all his wrong-
doings. The thought of them was so bitter, that he
felt he was no longer worthy to live.

Then came Hope with sweet comfort, and bade
him trust steadily and not lose heart. And Dame
Celia, seeing how unhappy he was, sent to him a
wonderful doctor, called Patience. Thanks to his
skill and wisdom, and to the careful nursing of his
attendant, Repentance, the Red Cross Knight presently —
recovered, and grew well and strong again.

After this Una took him one day to visit the third
daughter, whose name was Love. She was so wonder-
fully beautiful and good that there were few on earth
to compare with her. They found her in the midst
of a group of happy children; she wore a yellow robe,
and sat in an ivory chair, and at her side were two
turtle-doves.

Una besought Love to let the Red Cross Knight
learn of her whatever she could teach, and to this re-
quest Love gladly agreed. Then she began to instruct
the Knight in all good things. She spoke to him of
love and righteousness, and how to do well, and bade
him shun all wrath and hatred, which are displeasing
to Gop. And when she had well taught him this, she
went on to show him the path to heaven.

The better to guide his weak and wandering steps,

76






















“The Knight and Wna entering tayre ber greet,
Bnd bid ber joy of that ber bappy brood;
Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,
Fnd entertaynes with tricndly cheeretull mood,”

The City of the Great King

she called an ancient matron, named Mercy, well
known for her gracious and tender ways. Into her
careful charge Love gave the Knight, to lead in the
right path, so that he should never fall in all his
journeying through the wide world, but come to the
end in safety.

Then Mercy, taking the Knight by the hand, led
him away by a narrow path; it was scattered with
bushy thorns and ragged briars, but these she always
cleared away before him, so that nothing might hinder
his ready passage. And whenever his footsteps were
cumbered, or began to falter and stray, she held him
fast, and bore him up, so that he never fell.

The City of the Great King

Soon after leaving the House of Holiness, the Red
Cross Knight and his guide, Mercy, came to a hospital
by the wayside. Some bedesmen lived here, who had
vowed all their life to the service of the King of
Heaven, and who spent their days in doing good.
Their gates were always open to weary travellers, and
one of the brothers sat waiting to call in all poor and
needy passers-by. Each of the brothers had a separate
duty to perform. The first had to entertain travellers ;
the second, to give food to the needy; the third,
clothing to those who had none; the fourth, to relieve
prisoners and to redeem captives; the fifth, to comfort
the sick and the dying; the sixth, to take charge of
those who were dead, and to deck them with dainty

To
The Red Cross Knight

flowers; the seventh had to look after widows and
orphans. Mercy was a great friend of theirs, and
Love was the founder of their order.

They stayed at the hospital for some time, while
the Knight was taught all kinds of good works. He
was very quick at learning, and soon became so perfect
that no cause of blame or rebuke could be found
in him.

Leaving the hospital, he next came with his guide
to a steep and high hill, on the top of which was a
church, with a little hermitage close by. Here there
dwelt an old man, called Contemplation. He spent
all his days in prayer and meditation, never thinking
of worldly business, but only of God and goodness.
When he saw the travellers approaching, at first he felt
vexed, for he thought they would distract his thoughts
to earthly matters. But recognising Mercy, whom he
loved and respected, he greeted them civilly, and asked
why they had climbed that tedious height.

““For that same purpose which every living person
should make his aim—the wish to go to Heaven,”
replied Mercy. ‘‘ Does not the path lead straight from
here to that most glorious place which shines with
ever-living light? The keys were given into your hands
by Faith, who requires that you show the lovely city
to this knight in accordance with his desire.”

Then Contemplation took the Red Cross Knight,
and, after the latter had fasted awhile and prayed, he
led him to the highest part of the hill.

From there he showed him a little path, steep and
long, which led to a goodly city. The walls and

80
































































“ From thence, far off be unto bim dfd shew
A little path that was both steepe and long,
Which to a goodly Citty [ed his vew,
Whose wals and towres were builded bigh and strong
Of perle and precious stone that earthly tong

Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell.”
F

eCity oF the Great Kine

towers were built very high and strong, of pearl and
precious stones, more beautiful than tongue can tell.
It was called ‘‘ The City of the Great King,” and in it
dwelt eternal peace and happiness.

As the Knight stood gazing, he could see the
blessed angels descending to and fro, and walking in
the streets of the city, as friend walks with friend. At
this he much wondered, and’ he began to ask what was
the stately building that lifted its lofty towers so near
the starry sky, and what unknown nation dwelt there.

“Fair Knight,” said his companion, “that is Jeru-
salem—the New Jerusalem, which Gop has built for
those to dwell in that are His chosen people, cleansed
from sinful guilt by Curist, who died for the sins
of the whole world. Now they are saints together in
that city.”

“Until now,” said the Knight, “I thought that
the city of Queen Gloriana, whence I come, was the
fairest that might ever be seen. But now I know
otherwise, for that great city yonder far surpasses it.”

“Most true,” said the holy man. ‘Yet for an
earthly place the kingdom of Queen Gloriana is the
fairest that eye can behold. And you, Sir Knight,
have done good service by aiding a desolate and
oppressed maiden. But when you have won a famous
victory, and high amongst all knights have hung your
shield, follow no more the pursuit of earthly conquest,
for bloodshed and war bring sin and sorrow. Séek
this path which I point out to you, for it will in the
end bring you to Heaven. Go peaceably on your
pilgrimage to the City of the Great King. A blessed

83
The Red Cross Knight

end is ordained for you. Amongst the saints you
shall be a saint, the friend and patron of your own
nation. Saint George you shall be called—‘ Saint
George for merry England, the sign of Victory.’”

“O holy Sire!” said the Knight, “how can I re-
quite you for all that you have done for me?”

His eyes were dazzled by the brightness of the
glory at which he had been gazing, so that he could
scarcely see the ground by which to return; so dark
are earthly things compared with divine.

Thanking and rewarding the good man for all his
trouble, the Red Cross Knight returned to Una, who
was anxiously awaiting him. She received him with
joy, and after he had rested a little, she bade him be
mindful of the task still before him. So they took
leave of Dame Celia and her three daughters, and once
more set out on their journey.

The Last Fight

At last Una and the Knight came to Una’s king-
dom, where her parents were held captive, and all the
land lay wasted by the terrible dragon. As they drew
near their journey’s end, Una began to cheer her com-
panion with brave words.

“ Dear Knight,” she said, “who for my sake have
suffered all these sorrows, may Heaven reward you for
your weary toil! Now we have come to my own
country, and the place where all our perils dwell.
This is the haunt of the horrible monster, therefore

84
The Last Fight

be well on your guard and ready for the foe. Call
up all your courage, and do better than you have ever
done before, so that hereafter you shall be renowned
above all knights on earth.”

At this moment they heard a hideous roaring sound,
which filled the air, and almost shook the solid ground.
Soon they saw the dreadful dragon where he lay stretched
on the sunny side of a great hill. Directly he caught
sight of the glittering armour of the Knight, he quickly
roused himself, and hastened towards them.

The Red Cross Knight bade Una go to a hill at
some distance, from where she might behold the
battle and be safe from danger. She had scarcely done
so when the huge beast drew near, half flying, and half
running in his haste. ,

He was a dreadful creature to look at, very big,
covered with brazen scales like a coat of steel, which
he:clashed loudly as he came. He had two immense
wings with which he could fly, and at the point of his
great, knotted tail were two stings, sharper than the
sharpest steel. Worse even than these, however, were
his cruel claws, which tore to pieces everything that
came within their clutches. He had three rows of
iron teeth, and his eyes, blazing with wrath, sparkled
like living fire.

Such was the terrible monster with whom the Red
Cross Knight had now to do battle.

All day they fought; and when evening came, the
Knight was quite worn out and almost defeated. As
it chanced, however, close by was a spring, the waters
of which possessed a wonderful gift of healing. The

85
The Red Cross Knight

Knight was driven backwards and fell into this well.
The dragon clapped his wings in triumph, for he
thought he had gained the victory. But so great was
the power of the water in this well that although the
Knight’s own strength was utterly exhausted, yet he rose
out of it refreshed and vigorous. The dawn of the next
day found him stronger than ever, and ready for battle.
The name of the spring was called the Well of Life.
All through the second day the battle lasted, and
again, when evening came, the Knight was almost de-
feated. But this night he rested under a beautiful
tree laden with goodly fruit; the name of the tree was
the Tree of Life. From it flowed, as from a well, a
trickling stream of balm, a perfect cure for all ills, and
whoever ate of its fruit attained to everlasting life.
The strength of the Red Cross Knight alone would
never have been sufficient to overcome the terrible
Dragon of Sin, but the water of the Well of Life, and
the balm from the. Tree of Life, gave him a power
that nothing could resist.
On the morning of the third day he slew the dragon.

“Fase after War”

The sun had scarcely risen on the third day, when
the watchman on the walls of the brazen tower saw
the death of the dragon. He hastily called to the
captive King and Queen, who, coming forth, ordered
the tidings of peace and joy to be proclaimed through
the whole land. :

8










































“nd to the knight bis daughter deare be tyde
With sacred rites and vowes for ever to abyode.

* * * * * * *
‘bis owne two bands the boly knotts oid knitt,
That none but death for ever can divide.”

“Base after War”

Then all the trumpets sounded for victory, and
the people came flocking as to a great feast, rejoicing
at the fall of the cruel enemy, from whose bondage
they were now free.

Forth from the castle came the King and Queen,
attended by a noble company. In front marched a>
goodly band of brave young men, all able to wield
arms, but who now bore laurel branches in sign of
victory and peace. These they threw at the feet of
the Red Cross Knight, and hailed him conqueror.

Then came beautiful maidens with garlands of
flowers and timbrels; troops of merry children ran in
front, dancing and singing to the sound of sweet music.
When they reached the spot where Una stood, they
bowed before her, and crowned her with a garland, so
that she looked—as indeed she was—a queen.

The King gave goodly gifts of gold and ivory to
his brave champion, and thanked him a thousand times
for all that he had done. Then the Red Cross Knight
and Una were brought in triumph to the palace; the
trumpets and the clarions sounded, and all the people
sang for joy, and strewed their garments in the way.
At the palace everything was splendid and beautiful, as
befitted a prince’s court, and here a great feast was held.

The King and Queen made their guest tell them
all the strange adventures and perils that had befallen
him. They listened with much interest and pity to
his story. Then said the King :—

“Dear son, great are the evils which you have
borne, so that I know not whether most to praise or
to pity you. Never has living man passed through a

89
The Red Cross Knight

sea of more deadly dangers. But since you have
arrived safely at the shore, now let us think of ease
and everlasting rest.”

‘“‘ Ah! dearest sovereign,” replied the brave Knight,
“J may not yet think of ease or rest. For by the
vow which I made when I first took up arms, I plighted
myself to return to Queen Gloriana, and to serve her
in warlike ways for six years.”

The King, when he heard this, was very sorry, but
he knew that the vow must be kept.

“* As soon as the six years are over,” said he, “‘ you
shall return here and marry my daughter, the Lady
Una. I proclaimed through the world that whoever
killed the dragon should have my only daughter to be
his wife, and should be made heir of my kingdom.
Since you have won the reward by noble chivalry, lo!
here I yield to you my daughter and my kingdom.”

Then Una stepped forward, radiant as the morning
star and fair as the flowers in May. She wore a gar-
ment of lily-white, that looked as if it were woven of
silk and silver. The blazing brightness of her beauty
and the glorious light of her sunshiny face can scarcely
be told. Even her dear Knight, who had been with
her every day, wondered at the sight.

So the Red Cross Knight and Una were betrothed.
Every one, young and old, rejoiced, and a solemn feast
was held through all the land. Now, indeed, the
Knight thought himself happy. Whenever his eye
beheld Una, his heart melted with joy; no wickedness
nor envy could ever again harm their love.

Yet even in the midst of his happiness he re-

go
“Kase after War”

membered the vow he had made to return to Queen
Gloriana. His work was not yet done, and at last the
day came when he had to leave Una, and set forth
again on his travels.

We know, however, that whatever new perils lay
before him, he would be able to overcome them all
by the help of his heavenly armour, and that in the
end he would be restored to Una, to dwell happily

with her for ever.

gi


“©The Good Sir Guyon eB

Sir Guyon meets the Magician

RCHIMAGO, the wicked magician, who had
worked such mischief to Una and the Red
Cross Knight, was very angry when he found that in
the end all his evil wiles were defeated, and that the
Knight and the lady were happily betrothed. He
would willingly have brought more trouble on them,
but he was powerless to do any harm to Una, for she
was now safely restored to her own kingdom, and
92


“pon the way bim fortuned to meete,
Faire marching underneath a shadie bill,
A goodly ‘knight, all armed in barnesse meete.”

Sir Guyon meets the Magician

living in the care of her father and mother. He
therefore directed all his spite against the Knight, who
had once more to set forth on his adventures, as he
had promised Queen Gloriana to serve her faithfully
for six years. At the end of that time he hoped to
return and marry Una, and the King, her father, had
made him heir to the throne.

Archimago, whose other name you may remember
was Hypocrisy, set all his wits to work to see what
harm he could do the Knight, for he knew that, after
all the troubles he had fallen into, he would be more
than usually careful. He kept laying snares for him,
and placed spies wherever he went, but the Knight had
now become so wise and wary that he always found
out and shunned the danger. Archimago, however,
still kept on hoping he should find some way to hurt
him, and at last his opportunity came.

It happened, one day, that the enchanter saw march-
ing to meet him a noble knight. The stranger was
clad in shining armour and rode a splendid war-horse ;
his bearing was very stately, and his face, although
calm and beautiful, was so stern and noble that all his
friends loved him and his foes feared him. He was
one of the chief knights of Queen Gloriana’s court, a -
man of great honour and power in his native land.
His name was Sir Guyon.

As the Red Cross Knight was known as the
Champion of /Zolinmess, so Sir Guyon was known as
the Knight of Temperance.

With him now there was an aged palmer or pilgrim,
clad in black; his hair was grey and he leant on a staff.
To judge by his look he was a wise and grave old

95
Sir Guyon

man, and he seemed to be acting as guide to the
Knight, who carefully checked his prancing horse to
keep pace with his slow footsteps.

The name of the black palmer was Comsczence, and
he went with Sir Guyon as his companion and adviser,
somewhat in the same fashion as Prudence had gone
as servant with the Red Cross Knight.

When Archimago saw Sir Guyon, he immediately
stopped him, just as on a former occasion he had
stopped the Red Cross Knight.

This time he had a fresh story to tell, which, of course,
was perfectly false. He implored Sir Guyon to come
to the help of a beautiful maiden, cruelly ill-treated by
a rough knight, who had cut off her golden locks,
and threatened to kill her with his sharp sword.

“What!” cried Sir Guyon, his gentle nature roused
to indignation, ‘‘is the man still alive who could do
such a deed?”

“He is alive, and boasts of it,” said wicked
Hypocrisy. ‘Nor has any other knight yet punished
him for it.”

“Take me to him at once,” said Sir Guyon.

“That I can easily do,” said Archimago. “I will
show you where he is,” and he hurried off in high glee,
because he thought that at last he had found a way of
revenging himself on the. Red Cross Knight.

Friend or Foe?

Archimago and Sir Guyon came presently to a place
where a beautiful lady sat alone, with torn clothes and
ruffled hair; she was weeping bitterly and wringing her

96
Friend or Foe?

hands, and when Sir Guyon asked her the cause of her
grief, she said it was because she had been most cruelly
treated by a rough knight.

This lady who seemed so good and gentle was, in



reality, no other than Duessa (or Fadsehood ), who had
formerly led the Red Cross Knight into such trouble.
Her old companion, Archimago, had found her wander-
ing forlorn in the desert whither she had been banished

97 Sc
Sir Guyon

by Prince Arthur, and had again decked her out in fine
clothes and ornaments, so that she might help him in
his wicked schemes.

Her cunning quite deceived Sir Guyon, who be-
lieved everything she told him.

“Be comforted, fair lady,” he said, ‘‘and tell me
who did this, so that I can punish him at once.”

“T do not know his name,” she replied, ‘‘ but he
rode a dappled grey steed, and on his silver shield
there was a red cross.”

When Sir Guyon heard this he was amazed.

“T cannot think how that knight could have done
such a deed,” he said, “for I can say boldly he is a
right good knight. I was present when he first took
arms and started out to help the Lady Una, since when
he has won great glory, as I have heard tell. Never-
theless, he shall be made to explain this, and if he
cannot clear himself of all blame, be sure he shall be
well punished.”

Duessa was greatly pleased when she heard this, for
now she hoped there would be a quarrel between the
two knights.

Archimago then led Sir Guyon by an unknown way
through woods and across mountains, till they came at
last to a pleasant dale which lay between two hills. A
little river ran through this valley, and by it sat a knight
with his helmet unlaced, refreshing himself with the
cool water after his long journey and hard work.

“Yonder is the man!” cried Archimago. “He
has come here thinking to hide himself, but in vain,
for you will soon make him repent of his cruelty.

OS
Friend or Foe?

All success to you! We will stay here, and watch
from a distance.”

Archimago and Duessa left Sir Guyon, who imme-
diately rushed forward to the attack. ‘The stranger,
seeing a knight hurrying so fiercely towards him, seized
his own weapons, prepared for battle, and sprang to
meet him. The two had almost met when Sir Guyon
suddenly lowered his spear.

“Mercy, Sir Knight! Mercy!” he cried. ‘‘ Pardon
my rashness, that had almost led me to disgrace my
honour by raising my weapon against the sacred badge
on your shield.”

When the Red Cross Knight, for he indeed it was,
heard the other’s voice, he knew him at once.

“Ah! dear Sir Guyon,” he said, bowing cour-
teously, “it is I rather who should be blamed. In my
reckless haste I almost did violence to the image of
Queen Gloriana which I now see inscribed on your
shield. The fault is mine!”

So the two knights made friends, and talked very
happily together, and Sir Guyon explained how he
had been cheated by Archimago and Duessa, who had
both now fled away. Then up came Guyon’s guide,
Conscience, and as soon as his eye fell on the Red
Cross Knight, he knew him, for he had seen him at
the court of Queen Gloriana.

“Joy be with you, and everlasting fame, for the
great deeds you have done!” he cried. “ Your glorious
name is enrolled in the heavenly register, where you have
won a seat among the saints. But we luckless mortals
are only now beginning to run the race in which you

99
Sir Guyon

have gained such renown.” ‘Then to his master he said,
‘‘God grant you, Guyon, to end your work well, and
bring your weary bark safely to the wished-for haven.”

‘“‘Palmer,” said the Red Cross Knight, “‘give the
praise to Gop, to whom all honour is due, and who
made my hand the organ of His might. Attribute
nothing to me except a willing heart; for all that I did,
I only did as I ought. But as for you, fair sir, whose
turn it is now,” he added to Guyon, ‘‘ may you prosper
as well as you can wish, and may we hear thrice happy
tidings of you; for you are indeed worthy, both in
courage and gentle manners.”

Then the two Knights took leave of each other
with much courtesy and goodwill. Sir Guyon went
forward on his journey, still guided by the Black
Palmer, who led him over hill and dale, pointing out
the way with his staff, and by his wise judgment guard-
ing his master from all dangers into which his own
hasty nature might have made him fall.

The Story of the Knight and the Lady.

After leaving Prince Arthur, Sir Guyon and the
Black Palmer (or Comsczence) travelled for some dis-
tance, fighting and winning many battles as they went,
which brought much honour to the Knight.

But the chief adventure in Sir Guyon’s life began
in this way :

One day, passing through a forest, they heard
sounds of bitter weeping and lamentation.

100
The Knight and the Lady

“Tf I cannot be revenged for all my misery,” cried
a voice, “at least nothing can prevent my dying.
Come then, come soon, come, sweetest death! But,
thou, my babe, who hast seen thy father’s fall, long
mayest thou live, and thrive better than thy unhappy
parents. Live to bear witness that thy mother died
for no fault of her own.”

When Sir Guyon heard these piteous words, he
dismounted, and rushed into the thicket, where he
found a beautiful lady dying on the ground. In her
arms there was a lovely baby, and the dead body of an
armed knight lay close beside them.

Horrified at the sight, Sir Guyon did all he could
to restore the lady to life, but she begged him to
leave her alone to die in peace; her sorrows, she said,
were more than she could bear, and therefore she had
tried to kill herself.

‘Dear lady,” said Sir Guyon, “‘all that I wish is
to comfort you, and to bring you some relief, there-
fore tell me the cause of your misfortune.”

‘Listen, then,” she answered. ‘This dead man,
the gentlest, bravest knight that ever lived, was my
husband, the good Sir Mordant. One day he rode
forth, as is the custom of knights, to seek adventures,
and it chanced most unhappily he came to the place
where the wicked Acrasia lives—Acrasia, the false
enchantress, who has brought ruin on so many knights.
Her dwelling is within a wandering island, in Perilous
Gulf. Fair sir, if ever you travel there, shun the
hateful place! I will tell you the name—it is called
the Lower of Bliss. Acrasia’s one aim in life is

IOI
Sir Guyon

Pleasure. \n the Bower of Bliss nothing is thought
of but eating and drinking, and every kind of luxury
and extravagance. All those who come within it for-
get everything good and noble, and care for nothing
but to amuse themselves. When my dear knight
never returned to me, I set forth in search of him,
and here I found him, a captive to the spells of Acrasia.
At first he did not even know me; but by-and-by,
with great care, I brought him back to a better state of
mind, and persuaded him to leave the Bower of Bliss.
But the wicked enchantress, angry at losing one of her
victims, gave him a parting cup of poison, and stooping
to drink at this well, he suddenly fell dead. When
I saw this ” Here the lady’s own words failed,
and, lying down as if to sleep, quiet death put an end
to all her sorrow.

Sir Guyon felt such grief at what had happened
that- he could scarcely keep from weeping. Turn-
ing to the Palmer, he said: ‘‘ Behold here this image
of human life, when raging passion like a fierce
tyrant robs reason of its proper sway. ‘The strong
it weakens, and the weak it fills with fury; the
strong (like this Knight) fall soonest through excess of
pleasure; the weak (like this Lady) through excess of
grief. But Temperance with a golden rule can measure
out a medium between the two, neither to be overcome
by pleasure, nor to give way to despair. Thrice happy
man who can tread evenly between them! But, since
this wretched lady did wrong through grief, and not
from wickedness, it is not for us to judge her. Let
us give her an honourable burial. Death comes to all,

102


The Knight and the Lady






fa
A ete INNO

the good and the bad alike,
and, after death, each must answer
for his own deeds. But both alike should have a
fitting burial.”

So Sir Guyon and the Black Palmer dug a grave
under the cypress-trees, and here they tenderly placed
the dead bodies of the Knight and the Lady, and bade
them sleep in everlasting peace. And before they left
the spot, Sir Guyon swore a solemn vow that he would
avenge the hapless little orphan child for the death of
his parents.

103
Sir Guyon

- The Three Sisters

After the burial of the Knight and the Lady, Sir
Guyon gave the little baby into the care of the Palmer,
and, lading himself with the heavy armour of the dead
Sir Mordant, the two started again on their journey.
But when they came to the place where Sir Guyon
had left his steed, with its golden saddle and costly
trappings, they found, to their surprise and vexation,
that it had quite disappeared. They were obliged,
therefore, to go forward on foot.

By-and-by they came to a famous old Castle, built
on a rock near the sea. In this castle lived three
sisters, who were so different in character that they
could never agree. The eldest and the youngest were
always quarrelling, and they were both as disagreeable
as possible to the middle sister. Elissa, the eldest, was
very harsh and stern; she always looked discontented,
and she despised every kind of pleasure or merriment.
It was useless ever to attempt to make her smile; she
was always frowning and scolding in a way not at all
becoming to any gentle lady.

Perissa, the youngest sister, was just as bad in the
other direction; she cared for nothing but amusement,
and was so full of laughter and play that she forgot all
rules of right and reason, and became quite thoughtless
and silly. She spent all her time in eating, and drink-
ing, and dressing herself up in fine clothes.

These two sisters showed the evil of two extremes ;
but the middle sister, Medina, or ‘‘ Golden Mean,” as

104
Vig

‘
\



LEN 5 A asl at
EON ae aN

\ ~.
Pg SY a





















“. . . At last they to a Castle came,
Suilt on a rocke adjopning to the scas.”

The Three Sisters

she was sometimes called, was the type of moderation,
and all that was right and proper. She was sweet,
and gracious, and womanly; not harsh and stern, like
Elissa,.nor yet heedless and silly, like Perissa. She
dressed richly, but quietly, and her clothes suited her
well: they were different alike from Elissa’s stinginess
and Perissa’s extravagance.

When Medina saw Sir Guyon approaching the
castle, she met him on the threshold, and led him in
like an honoured guest. But her sisters were very
angry when they heard of his arrival. There were two
other visitors at the castle just then, and they also
were very angry. Sir Hudibras was a friend of the
eldest sister. He was very savage and sullen, slow-
witted, but big and strong. Sans-loy, or Law/ess, was
the friend of the youngest sister. He was the same
Lawless who had been so cruel to poor Una, and he
was just as bold and unruly now as he had been then,
and he never cared what wrong he did to any one.

These two hated each other, and were always
quarrelling, but when they heard of the coming of
the stranger knight, they both flew to attack him.
On the way, however, they began fighting with each
other, and, hearing the noise, Sir Guyon ran to try to
stop them, whereupon they both turned upon him.
The two sisters stood by, and encouraged them to go
on fighting; but Medina ran in amongst them, and
entreated them to stop. Her gentle words at last ap-
peased their anger, and they laid down their weapons,
and consented to make friends.

Then Medina invited them all to a feast, which

107
Sir Guyon

she had prepared in honour of Sir Guyon. Elissa and
Perissa came very unwillingly, though they attempted
to hide their grudging and envy under a pretence of
cheerfulness. One sister thought the entertainment
provided far too much, and the other sister thought
it far too little. Elissa would scarcely speak or eat
anything, while Perissa chattered and ate far more
than was right or proper.

After the feast, Medina begged Sir Guyon to tell
them the story of his adventures, and to say on what
quest he was now bound.

Then Sir Guyon told them all about the court of
the Faerie Queene, Gloriana, and how he had sworn
service to her, and promised to go out into the world
to fight every kind of evil. The task he had now in
hand was to find out the wicked enchantress, Acrasia,
and to destroy her dwelling, for she had done more
bad deeds than could be told, and, among them, had
brought about the deaths of the father and mother of
the poor little baby he had taken under his care.

By the time Sir Guyon’s tale was finished the night
was far spent, and all the guests in the castle betook
themselves to rest.

Braggadochio

As soon as it was dawn, Sir Guyon arose, and,
mindful of his appointed work, armed himself again
for the journey.

The little baby whom he had rescued he entrusted

108
Braggadochio

to the tender care of Medina, entreating her to train
him up as befitted his noble birth. Then, since his
good steed had been stolen from him, he and the
Palmer fared forward on foot.

It will be remembered that when Sir Guyon heard
the cries for help of the Lady Amavia, he dismounted,
and ran into the thicket, leaving his horse outside.
While he was absent, there wandered that way an idle,
worthless fellow, called Braggadochio. This was a man
who never did anything great or good, but who was
extremely vain and boastful, and always trying to make
out that he was somebody grand. When he saw the
beautiful horse with its golden saddle and rich trappings,
and Sir Guyon’s spear, he immediately took possession
of them, and hurried away. He was so puffed up with
self-conceit that he felt now as if he were really some
noble knight, and he hoped that every one else would
think the same of him. He determined to go first to
court, where he thought such a gallant show would at
once attract notice and gain him favour.

Braggadochio had never been trained in chivalry; -
he rode very badly, and could not manage Sir Guyon’s
splendid high-spirited horse in the least. He managed,
however, to stick on somehow, and presently, seeing a
man sitting on a bank by the roadside, and wishing to
show off, he rode at him, pretending to aim at him with
his spear. The silly fellow fell flat down with fear,
crying out for mercy.. Braggadochio was very proud
and delighted at this, and shouted at him in a loud
voice, ‘‘ Die, or yield thyself my captive!” The man
was so terrified that he promised at once to become

109
Sir Guyon

Braggadochio’s servant. So the two went on together.
They were excellently well suited, for both were vain,
and false, and cowardly, while Braggadochio tried to get
his own way by bluster, and his companion by cunning.







e all

{sl Vet

SS ae




SS Be SS
URS ps
\ Se
SY SS ba ~
a
a ~~) Ss - 3

Trompart (or Decezt), for that was the man’s name,
speedily discovered the folly of his master. He was
very wily-witted and well accustomed to every form of
cunning trickery, and, to suit his own purpose, he
flattered up Braggadochio, and did all he could to

encourage his idle vanity.
IIo
Braggadochio

Presently, as the two went along, they met the
wicked magician, Archimago (or Hyfocrisy), who was
now just as angry with Sir Guyon as he had been before
with the Red Cross Knight. When he saw Bragga-
dochio, he thought he had found a good opportunity
to be revenged on both the knights, and, going up to
him, he asked if he would be willing to fight them.

Braggadochio immediately pretended to fall into a
great rage against them, and said he would slay them
both. Then Archimago, seeing that he had no sword,
warned him that he must arm himself with the very
best weapons, for they were two of the mightiest war-
riors living.

“Silly old man!” said Braggadochio boastfully.
“Stop giving advice. Isn’t one brave man enough,
without sword or shield, to make an army quail? You
little know what this right hand can do. Once, when
I killed seven knights with one sword, I swore thence-
forward never to wear a sword in battle again, unless it
could be the one that the noblest knight on earth wears.”

“Good!” said the magician quickly; “that sword
you shall have very shortly. For now the best and
noblest knight alive is Prince Arthur, who lives in the
land of the Faerie Queene. He has a sword that is like
a flaming brand. I will undertake that, by my devices,
this sword is: found to-morrow at your side.”

At these words the boaster began to quake, for he
could not think who it was that spoke like this. Then
Archimago suddenly vanished, for the north wind, at
his command, carried him away, lifting him high into
the air.

III
Sir Guyon

Brageadochio and Deceit looked all about, but could
find no trace of him. Nearly dead with fright, they
both fled, never turning to look round till, at last, they
came to a green forest where they hid themselves. Even
here fear followed them, and every trembling leaf and
rustle of the wind made their hair stand on end.

Fury’s Captive
As Sir Guyon and his guide, the Black Palmer,

went on their way, they presently saw at some distance
what seemed to be a great uproar and commotion.
Hurrying near, they found a big savage man dragging
along and beating a handsome youth. An ugly old
woman followed them, shouting and railing, and
urging the man not to let go the youth, but to treat
him worse and worse.

The name of the bad man was Fury; the old
woman was his mother, and was called Occaszon. The
youth was a young squire, named Phaon.

Fury had Phaon completely in his power, but in
his blind and senseless rage he scarcely knew what he
was about, and spent half his force in vain. He often
struck wide of the mark, and frequently hurt himself
unawares, like a bull rushing at random, not knowing
where he hits and not caring whom he hurts.

When Sir Guyon saw the sad plight of the young
squire, he ran to help him; but Fury grappled with
the Knight and flung him to the ground. Sir Guyon
sprang to his feet, and drew his sword, but, seeing this,

1s


“GH mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the baire along upon the grownd
F bandsom stripling with great crueltce,
Whom sore be bett.”

Fury’s Captive

the Palmer cried, “ Not so, O Guyon; never think the
monster can be mastered or destroyed in that fashion.
He is not a foe to be wounded by steel or overthrown
by strength. This cruel wretch is Fury, who works
much woe and shame to knighthood. That old hag, his
mother, is the cause of all his wrath and spite. Whoever
~will conquer Fury, must first get hold of Occasion and
master her. When she is got rid of, or strongly with-
stood, Fury himself is easily’‘managed. But she is very
difficult to catch, for her hair hangs so thickly over her
eyes, it is often impossible to know her, and when she
has once slipped past, you can never overtake her.”

When Sir Guyon heard this, he left Fury and went
to catch Occasion. All happened as the Palmer said.
Directly the wicked old woman was captured, and her
angry tongue silenced, her son turned to fly. Sir Guyon
followed, and soon made him prisoner; but even when
bound in iron chains, Fury kept grinding and gnash-
ing his teeth, shaking his copper-coloured locks, and
threatening revenge.

. Then Sir Guyon turned to the young squire, and
asked him how he had fallen into the power of such a
wretch.

Phaon said all his misfortunes arose from his giving
way to wrath and-jealousy. He had a dear friend, about
whom malicious stories were told, and without waiting
to find out whether or not they were true, he killed
this friend in sudden anger. When he discovered that
he had been misled, and that his friend was innocent,
he was filled with grief, and swore to be revenged on
the two people who had deceived him. To one he gave

IIS
Sir Guyon

a deadly draught of poison, and the other he was
pursuing with a drawn sword, when he himself was
overtaken by Fury, who completely mastered him.

“As long as I live,” he ended, “I shall never get
over the agony caused me by Grief and Fury.”

“Squire,” said Sir Guyon, “‘ you have suffered much,
but all your ills may be softened if you do not give
way to such violence.”

Then said the Palmer, ‘‘ Wretched is the man who
never learns to govern his passions. At first they are
feeble and can be easily managed, but through lack of
control they lead to fearful results. Fight against them
while they are young, for when they get strong they
do their best to overcome all the good in you. Un-
governed wrath, jealousy, and grief have been the cause
of this squire’s downfall.”

“Unlucky Phaon,” said Sir Guyon; “since you
have fallen into trouble through your hot, impatient
disposition, henceforth take heed, and govern your ways
carefully, less a worse evil come upon you.”

While Sir Guyon spoke, they saw far off a man
running towards them, whose flying feet went so fast
that he was almost hidden in a cloud of dust.

The Anger of Fire

The man soon reached Sir Guyon and the Palmer,
hot, panting, and breathless. He was a bold-looking
fellow, not in the least abashed by Sir Guyon, but

casting scornful glances at him.
116
Wie Anger of Mire

Behind his back he bore a brazen shield, which
looked as if it belonged to some famous knight. On it
was drawn the picture of a flaming fire, round which were
the words “ Burnt, [ do burn.” In his hand the man
carried two sharp and slender darts, tipped with poison.

When he came near, he said boldly to Guyon, “ Sir
Knight—if you be a knight—I advise you to leave this
place at once, in case of further harm. If you choose
- to stay, you do so at your own peril!”

Sir Guyon wondered at the fellow’s boldness, though
he scorned his idle vanity. He asked him mildly why
any harm should come to him if he remained.

“Because,” replied the man, “‘ there is now coming,
and close at hand, a knight of wondrous power, who
never yet met an enemy without doing him deadly
harm, or frightening him dreadfully. You need not
hope for any better fate, if you choose to stay.”

‘What is his name?” said Sir Guyon, “‘ and where
does he come from?”

“His name is Pyrocles, which means ¢he Anger of
Fire,” was the answer, “and he is called so from his
hot and cruel temper. He is the brother of Cymocles,
which means ¢he Anger of the Sea- Waves, for Cymocles
is wild and revengeful. They are the sons of Malice
and Intemperance. Lam Strife, the servant of Pyrocles,
and I find work for him to do and stir him up to mis-
chief. Fly, therefore, from this dreadful place, or your
foolhardiness may bring you into danger.”

“Never mind about that,” said Sir Guyon, “but
tell me whither you are now bound. For it must be
some great reason that makes you in such a hurry.”

117
Sir Guyon

‘“‘ My master has sent me to seek out Occasion,” said
‘Strife. ‘He is furious to fight, and woe betide the
man who first falls in his way.”

“You must be mad,” said the Palmer, ‘‘to seek
out Occasion and cause for strife. She comes unsought,
and follows even when shunned. Happy the man who
can keep away from her.” _

“Look,” said Sir Guyon, ‘‘ yonder she sits, bound.
Take that message to your master.”

At this Strife grew very angry, and seizing one of
his darts, he hurled it at Sir Guyon. The Knight
caught it-on his shield, whereupon Strife fled away,
and was soon lost to sight.

Not long after, Sir Guyon saw a fierce-looking
knight riding swiftly towards him. His armour
sparkled like fire, and his horse was bright red, and
champed and chafed at his bit as his master spurred
him roughly forward. This was Pyrocles.

Not waiting to speak, he furiously attacked Sir
Guyon, but after a sharp battle he was utterly defeated,
and obliged to beg for mercy.

This Sir Guyon courteously granted, and asked the
reason why Pyrocles had attacked him so fiercely.

The knight replied it was because he heard that
Sir Guyon had taken captive a poor old woman, and
chained her up. He demanded that she and her son
Fury should be set free.

“* And is that all that has so sorely displeased you?”
said Sir Guyon, smiling. “There they are; I hand
them over to you.”

Pyrocles, delighted, rushed to set free the captives,

118


“ tbe boldly spake, ‘Sir Rnigbt, if knigbt thou bee,
Abandon this forestalled place at erst,
For fear of further barme, F counsell thee,
Or bide the chaunce at thine owne jeopardie,’ ”



The Idle Lake

but they were scarcely untied before their rage and
spite burst forth with double fury. They did every-
thing they could to make Pyrocles and Sir Guyon fight
again. They not only railed against Sir Guyon for
being the conqueror, but also against Pyrocles for allow-
ing himself to be conquered.

‘Sir Guyon stood apart and refused to be drawn
into the quarrel; but Pyrocles could not help getting
enraged, and he and Fury were soon in the midst of a
terrible fight.

Seeing that Pyrocles was getting the worst of it,
Sir Guyon would have gone to his help, but the Palmer
held him back, and refused to let him interfere.

“No,” he said firmly, ‘‘it is idle for you to pity
him. He has brought this trouble upon himself by
his own folly and wilfulness, and he must now bear
the punishment.”

So, as there was nothing more to be done, Sir Guyon
and the Palmer started again on their journey.

The Idle Lake

In the course of their journey, Sir Guyon and the
Palmer came at last to the shores of a great lake. The
water of this lake was thick and sluggish, unmoved by
any wind or tide. In the midst of it floated an island,
a lovely plot of fertile land, set like a little nest among
the wide waves. The island was full of dainty herbs
and flowers, beautiful trees with spreading branches,
and with birds singing sweetly on every branch. But

121
Sir Guyon

everything there —the flowers, the trees, and the sing-
ing birds—only served to tempt weak-minded people
to be slothful and lazy. Lying on the soft grass in
some shady dell, they forgot there was any such thing
as work or duty, and cared for nothing but to sleep
away the time in idle dreams.

Up to the present, Sir Guyon had only had to face
adventures of a stern and painful kind, but now he was
to be put to quite a different test. Would he fall a
prey to the sloth and luxury of this island, or would
he remain faithful to his knightly duty?

When Sir Guyon and his companion, Conscience,
came to the shore of the lake, they saw, floating near,
a little gondola, all decked with boughs. In the
gondola sat a beautiful lady, amusing herself by sing-
ing and laughing loudly. She came at once when
Guyon called, and offered to ferry him across the lake ;
but when the Knight was in the boat, she refused to
let the Palmer get in, and neither money nor entreaties .
would induce her to take the old man with them. Sir
Guyon was very unwilling to leave his guide behind,
but he could not go back, for the boat, obeying the
lady’s wish, shot away more swiftly than a swallow flies.
It needed no oar nor pilot to guide it, nor any sails to
carry it with the wind; it knew how to go exactly
where its owner wanted, and could save itself both
from rocks and shoals.

The name of the lady in the gondola was Pheedria ;
she was one of the servants of the wicked enchantress,
Acrasia, whom Sir Guyon was.now on his way to attack.
She hoped that the beautiful island would entrap the

122










“gut whenas Guyon of that land bad sight,
‘tbe wist bimselfe amisse, and angry said;
‘Alb, Dame! perdy ye bave not doen me right,
Thus to mislead mee, whiles F you obaid:
Mee litle needed trom my right way to bave straid,’”



The Idle Lake
Knight, and make him delay his journey and forget his

purpose.

On the way, as was her custom, she began joking
and laughing loudly, thinking this would amuse her
guest. Sir Guyon was so kind and courteous that he
was quite ready to join in any real merriment , but
when he saw his companion grow noisier and sillier
every moment, he began to despise her and did not care
to share her foolish attempts at fun. But she went on
still in the same manner till at last they reached the
island.

When Sir Guyon saw this land, he knew he was
out of his way, and was very angry.

“Lady,” he said, “you have not done right to me,
to mislead me like this, when I trusted you. There
was no need for me to have strayed from my right way.”

“Pair sir,” she said, “‘do not be angry. He who
travels on the sea cannot command his way, nor order
wind and weather at his pleasure. The sea is wide,
and it is easy to stray on it; the wind is uncertain.
But here you may rest awhile in safety, till the season
serves to attempt a new passage. Better be safe in
port than on a rough sea,” she ended laughingly.

Sir Guyon was not at all pleased, but he checked
his anger and stepped on shore. Phaedria at once began
to show off all the delights of the island, which grew
in beauty wherever she went. The flowers sprang
freshly, the trees burst into bud and early blossom,
and a whole chorus of birds broke into song. And
the lady, more sweetly than any bird on bough, would
often sing with them, surpassing, as. she easily could,

TONG
Sir Guyon

their native music with her skilful art. She strove,
by every device in her power, so to charm Sir Guyon
that he would forget all deeds of daring and his
knightly duty.

But Sir Guyon was wise, and took care not to be .
carried away by these delights, though he would not
seem so rude as to despise anything that a gentle lady
did to give him pleasure. He spoke many times of
his desire to leave, but she kept on making excuses
to delay his journey.

Now it happened that Pheedria had already allured
to the island another knight. This was Cymocles,
whose name means ¢he Anger of the Sea. He was
the brother of Pyrocles (‘he Anger of Fire), whom
you may remember Sir Guyon had already fought and
conquered. Cymocles had been sunk in a heavy sleep
when Sir Guyon arrived, but when he woke up and
discovered the new-comer, he flew at once into a
furious rage, and rushed to attack him.

Sir Guyon, of course, was quite ready to defend
himself, and Cymocles soon found that he had never
before met such a powerful foe. The fight between
them was so terrible that Phedria, overcome with pity
and dismay, rushed forward, and implored them, for
her sake, to stop. She blamed herself as the cause of
all the mischief, and entreated them not to disgrace
the name of knighthood by strife and cruelty, but to
make peace and be friends.

So great is the power of gentle words to a brave
and generous heart, that at her speech their rage began
to relent. When all was over, Sir Guyon again begged

126
The Realm of Pluto

the lady to let him depart, and to give him passage to
the opposite shore. She was now quite as glad as he
was for him to go, for she saw that all her folly and
vain delights were powerless to tempt him from his
duty, and she did not want her selfish ease and pleasure
to be troubled with terror and the clash of arms. So
she bade him get into the little boat again, and soon
conveyed him swiftly to the farther strand.

The Realm of Pluto

Sir Guyon having lost his trusty guide, who was
left behind on the shore of the Idle Lake, had now to
go on his way alone. At last he came to a gloomy
glade, where the thick branches and shrubs shut away
the daylight. There, lurking in the shade, he found
a rude, savage man, very ugly and’ unpleasant-looking.
His face was tanned with smoke, his eyes dull, his
head and beard streaked with soot, his hands were
coal-black, as if burnt at a smith’s forge, and his nails
were like claws. __

His iron coat, all overgrown with rust, was lined
with gold, which, though now darkened with dirt,
seemed as if it had been formerly a work of rich and
curious design. In his lap he counted over a mass of
coin, feasting his eyes and his covetous wishes with
the sight of his huge treasury. Round about on every
side lay great heaps of gold, which could never be
spent: some were the rough ore, others were beaten
into great ingots and square wedges; some were

oe:
Sir Guyon

round plates, without mark of any kind, but most
were stamped, and bore the ancient and curious in-
scription of some king or emperor.

As soon as the man saw Sir Guyon, he rose, in great
haste and fright, to hide his mounds of treasure, and
began with trembling hands to pour them through a
wide hole into the earth. But Sir Guyon, though he
was himself dismayed at the sight, sprang lightly for-
ward to stop him.

‘““Who are you that live here in the desert, and
hide away from people’s sight, and from their proper
use, all these rich heaps of wealth?” he asked.

Looking at him with great disdain, the man replied,
“You are very rash and heedless of yourself, Sir
Knight, to come here to trouble me, and my heaps of
treasure. I call myself ‘King of this world and
worldlings ’"—Great Mammon—the greatest power on
earth. Riches, renown, honour, estate, and all the
goods of this world, for which men incessantly toil
and moil, flow forth from me in abundance. If you
will deign to serve and follow me, all these mountains
of gold shall be at your command, and, if these will
not suffice, you shall have ten times as much.”

“Mammon,” said the Knight, “ your boast of
kingship is in vain, and your bribe of golden wages is
useless. Offer your gifts to those who covet such
dazzling gain. It would ill befit me, who spend my
days in deeds of daring and pursuit of honour, to pay
any attention to the tempting baits with which you
bewitch weak men. Any desire for worldly dross
mixes badly with, and debases the true heroic spirit

128
The Realm of Pluto



which joys in fighting for crowns and kingdoms. Fair

shields, gay steeds, bright armour are my delight.

These are the riches fit for a venturous knight.”

Mammon went on trying to tempt the Knight with

all sorts of alluring promises, but Sir Guyon stood

firm. He pointed out the evils that had come through
129 I
Sir Guyon

riches, which he considered the root of all unquietness
—first got with guile—then kept with dread, after-
wards spent with pride and lavishness, and leaving
behind them grief and heaviness. They were the
cause of infinite mischief, strife and debate, bloodshed
and bitterness, wrong-doing and covetousness, which
noble hearts despise as dishonour. Innocent people
were murdered, kings slain, great cities sacked and
burnt, and other evils, too many to mention, were
caused by riches.

**Son,” said Mammon at last, ‘‘let be your scorn,
and leave the wrongs done in the old days to those
who lived in them. You who live in these later times
must work for wealth, and risk your life for gold.
If you choose to use what I offer you, take what you
please of all this abundance; if you don’t choose, you
are free to refuse it, but do not ene blame the
thing you have eRe: ie

‘“‘T do not choose to receive anything,” replied the
Knight, “until I am sure that it has been well come
by. How do I know but what you have got these
goods by force or fraud from their rightful owners?”

‘“No eye has ever yet seen, nor tongue counted,
nor hand handled them,” said Mammon. ‘I keep
them safe hidden in a secret place. Come and see.”

Then Mammon led Sir Guyon through the thick
covert, and found a dark way which no man could
spy, that went deep down into the ground, and was
compassed round with dread and horror. At length
they came into a larger space, that stretched into a wide
plain ; a broad beaten highway ran across this, leading

130
The Realm of Pluto

straight to the grisly realm of Pluto, King of Wealth,
and ruler of the Lower Regions.

It was indeed a horrible road. By the wayside sat
fiendish Vengeance and turbulent Strife, one brandish-
ing an iron whip, the other a knife, and both gnashing
their teeth and threatening the lives of those who went
by. On the other side, in one group, sat cruel Revenge
and rancorous Spite, disloyal Treason and heart-burning
Hate; but gnawing Jealousy sat alone out of thew
sight, biting his lips; and trembling Fear ran to and
fro, finding no place where he might safely shroud
himself. Lamenting Sorrow lay in the darkness, and
Shame hid his ugly face from living eye. Over them
always fluttered grim Horror, beating his iron wings,
and after him flew owls and night-ravens, messengers
of evil tidings, while a Harpy—a hideous bird of ill
omen—sitting on a cliff near, sang a song of bitter
sorrow that would have broken a heart of flint, and
when it was ended flew swiftly after Horror.

All these lay before the gates of Pluto, and passing
by, Sir Guyon and Mammon said nothing to them,
but all the way wonder fed the eyes and filled the
thoughts of Sir Guyon.

At last Mammon brought him to a little door that
was next adjoining to the wide-open gate of Hades,
and nothing parted them; there was only a little stride
between them, dividing the House of Riches from the
mouth of the Lower Regions.

Before the door sat self-consuming Care, keeping
watch and ward, day and night, for fear lest Force or
Fraud should break in, and steal the treasure he was

131
Sir Guyon

guarding. Nor would he allow Sleep once to come
near, although his drowsy den was next.

Directly Mammon arrived, the door opened, and
gave passage to him. Sir Guyon still kept following,
for neither darkness nor danger could dismay him.

The Cave. of Mammon

As soon as Mammon and Sir Guyon entered the
House of Riches, the door immediately shut of itself,
and from: behind it leapt forth an ugly fiend, who
followed them wherever they went. He kept an eager
watch on Guyon, hoping that before long the Knight
would lay a covetous hand on some of the treasures,
in which case he was ready to tear him to pieces with
his claws.

The form of the house inside was rude and strong,
like a huge cave hewn out of the cliff; from cracks in
the rough vault hung lumps of gold, and every rift
was laden with rich metal, so that they seemed ready
to fall in pieces, while high above all the spider spun
her crafty web, smothered in smoke and clouds blacker
than jet. The roof, and floor, and walls were all of
gold, but covered with dust and hid in darkness, so
that no one could see the colour of it; for the cheer-
ful daylight never came inside that house, only a faint
shadow of uncertain light, like a dying lamp. Nothing
was to be seen but great iron chests and strong coffers,
all barred with double bands of metal, so that no one
could force them open by violence; but all the ground

mae
The Cave of Mammon

was strewn with the bones of dead men, who had lost
their lives in that place, and were now left there
unburied.

They passed on, and Guyon spoke not a word till
they came to an iron door, which opened to them of
its own accord, and showed them such a store of riches
as the eye of man had never seen before.

Then Mammon, turning to the warrior, said, “ Be-
hold here the world’s happiness! Behold here the end
at which all men aim, to be made rich! Such favour
—to be happy—is now laid before you.”

‘J will not have your offered favour,” said the
Knight, “nor do I intend to be happy in that way.
Before my eyes I place another happiness, another end.
To those that take pleasure in them, I resign these
base things. But I prefer to spend my fleeting hours
in fighting and brave deeds, and would rather be lord
over those who have riches than have them myself,
and be their slave.”

At that the fiend gnashed his teeth, and was angry
because he was kept so long from his prey, for he
thought that so glorious a bait would surely have
tempted his guest. Had it done so, he would have
snatched him away lighter than a dove in a falcon’s
claws.

But, when Mammon saw he had missed his object,
he thought of another way to entrap the Knight un-
awares. He led him away into another room where
-there were a hundred furnaces burning fiercely. By
every furnace were many evil spirits horrible to see,
busily engaged in tending the fires, or working with

133
Sir Guyon

the molten metal. When they saw Guyon they all
stood stock still to wonder at him, for they had never
seen such a mortal before; he was almost afraid of
their staring eyes and hideous figures.

“Behold what living eye has never seen before,”
said Mammon. “ Here is the fountain of the world’s
good. If, therefore, you will be rich, be well advised
and change your wilful mood, lest hereafter you may
wish and not be able to have.”

“Let it suffice that I refuse all your idle offers,”
said Guyon. “All that I need I have. Why should
I covet more than I can use? Keep such vain show
for your worldlings, but give me leave to follow my
quest.”

Mammon was much displeased, but he led him
forward, to entice him further. He brought him
through a dark and narrow way to a broad gate, built
‘of beaten gold. The gate was open, but there stood
in front of it a sturdy fellow, very bold and defiant-
looking. In his right hand he held an iron club, but
he himself seemed as if he were made of gold. His
name was Disdain. When he saw Guyon he brandished
his club, but Mammon bade him be still, and led his
guest past him.

He took him into a large place, like some solemn
temple; great golden pillars upheld the massive roof,
and every pillar was decked with crowns and diadems,
such as princes wore while reigning on earth. A
crowd of people of every sort and nation were there
assembled, all pressing with a great uproar to the
upper part, where was placed a high throne. On it

134










“S8cbold thou Faervics sonic, with mortall eve,
That living eye before did never sec:

* * * * * *

‘bere is the fountaine of the worldes good:
Mow, therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee,
Avise thee well, and chaunge thy wiltull mood,”



The Cave of Mammon

sat a woman, clad in gorgeous robes of royalty. Her
face seemed marvellously fair; her beauty threw such
brightness round that all men could see it; it was not
all her own, however, but was partly made up by art.
As she sat there, glittering, she held a great gold
chain, the upper end of which reached high into heaven,
and the other end deep down into the lower regions ;
and all the crowd around her pressed to catch hold of
that chain, to climb aloft by it, and excel others.

The name of the chain was Amdztzon, and every
link was a step of dignity. Some thought to raise
themselves to a high place by riches, some by pushing,
some by flattery, some by friends—and all by wrong
ways, for those that were up themselves kept others
low, and those that were low held tight hold of others,
not letting them rise, while every one strove to throw
down his companions.

When Guyon saw this he began to ask what all
the crowd meant, and who was the lady that sat on
the throne.

“That goodly person, round whom every one
flocks, is my dear daughter,” said Mammon. “ From °
her alone come honour and dignity, and this world’s
happiness, for which all men struggle, but which few
get. She is called Philotime, the Love of Honour,
and she is the fairest lady in the world. Since you
have found favour with me, I will make her your wife,
if you like, that she may advance you, because of your
work and just merits.”

“J thank you much, Mammon,” said the gentle
Knight, “ for offering me such favour, but I am only

037
Sir Guyon

a mortal, and, I know well, an unworthy match for such _
a wife. And, if I were not, yet is my troth plighted
and my love declared to another lady, and to change
one’s love without cause is a disgrace to a knight.”

Mammon was inwardly enraged, but, hiding his
feelings, he led him away, through the grisly shadows,
by a beaten path, into a garden well furnished with
herbs and fruits of an unknown kind. They were
not such as men gather from the fertile earth, sweet
and of good taste, but deadly black, both leaf and
flower. Here grew cypress and ebony, poppy and
deadly nightshade, hemlock, and many other poisonous
plants. The place was called the Garden of Proser-
pine. In the midst was a silver seat, under a thick
arbour, and near by grew a great tree with spreading
branches, laden with golden apples.

Mammon showed the Knight many wonders in
the Garden of Proserpine, and tried to tempt him to
sit in the silver seat, or to eat of the golden apples.
If Guyon had done so, the horrible monster who
waited behind would have pounced on him and torn
him to pieces; but he was wary and took care not
to yield to temptation, so the beguiler was cheated
of his prey. But now he began to feel weak and ill
for want of food and sleep, for three days had passed
since he entered the cave. So he begged Mammon to
guide him back to the surface of the earth by the way
they had come. Mammon, though very unwilling, was
forced to obey ; but the change was too much for Guyon
in his feeble state, and as soon as he came into the light,
and began to breathe the fresh air, he fainted away.

138
The Champion of Chivalry

The Champion of Chivalry

During the time that Guyon stayed in the house
of Mammon, the Palmer, whom the maid of the Idle
Lake had refused to take in her boat, had found a
passage in some other way. On his journey he came
‘near the place where Guyon lay in a trance, and sud-
denly he heard a voice calling loud and clear, ‘‘Come
hither, hither! Oh, come quickly!”

He hurried in the direction of the cry, which led
him to the shady dell where Mammon had formerly
counted his wealth. Here he found Guyon senseless
on the ground, but watched over by a beautiful angel.

_ At first he was dismayed, but the angel bade him
not be frightened, for that life and renewed vigour
would soon come back to the Knight. He now handed
him over to the charge of the Palmer, and bade him
watch with care, for fresh evil was at hand.

Thus saying, the angel vanished, and the Palmer,
turning to look at Guyon, was rejoiced to find a feeble
glimmer of life in him, which he cherished tenderly.

At last there came that way two Pagan knights in
shining armour, led by an old man, and with a light-
footed page far in front, scattering mischief and enmity
wherever he went. These were the two bad brothers,
Pyrocles and Cymocles, the sons of Anger, guided by
the false Archimago, while their servant, Atin (or
Strife) stirred them up to quarrelling and vengeance.

When they came to the place where the Palmer sat
watching over the sleeping body of the Knight, they

139
Sir Guyon

knew the latter at once, for they had both lately
fought with him. They reviled the Palmer, and began



heaping abuse on Sir Guyon, whom they thought dead,
and declared that they would strip him of his armour,
140
The Champion of Chivalry

which was much too good for such a worthless creature.
The Palmer implored them not to do such a shameful
‘and dishonourable deed, but his entreaties were in vain ;
one brother: laid his hand on the shield, the other on
the helmet, both fiercely eager to possess themselves of
the spoil.

At this moment they saw coming towards them
an armed knight of bold and lofty grace, whose squire
bore after him an ebony spear and a covered shield.
Well did the magician know him by his arms and bear-
ing when he saw his prancing Libyan steed, and he cried
to the brothers, ‘‘ Rise quickly, and prepare yourselves
for battle, for yonder comes the mightiest knight alive

-—Prince Arthur, the flower of grace and chivalry.”

The brothers were so impressed that they started up
and greedily prepared for battle. Pyrocles, who had lost
his own weapons in the fight with Fury, snatched a
sword from Archimago, although the latter warned
him it was a magic sword, and would do no harm to
Prince Arthur, for whom it had been made long ago,
and who was its rightful owner. Pyrocles only laughed
at the magician’s warning, and having bound Guyon’s
shield to his wrist, he was ready for the fray.

By that time the stranger Knight had come near,
and greeted them courteously. They returned no
answer, but looked very disdainful, and then, turning to
the Palmer, Prince Arthur noticed that at his feet lay an
armed man, in whose dead face he read great nobility.

“ Reverend sir,” he said, “what great misfortune
has befallen this Knight? Did he die a natural death,
or did he fall by treason or by fight?”

I4I
Sir Guyon

‘* Not by one or the other,” said the Palmer ; ‘‘ but
his senses are drowned in sleep, and these cruel foes
have taken advantage of it to revenge their spite and
rob him of his armour; but you, fair sir, whose
honourable look promises hope of help, may I beseech
you to take pity on his sad plight, and by your power
protect him?”

“‘ Palmer,” he said, ‘there is no knight so rude, I
trust, as to do outrage to a sleeping spirit. Maybe,
better reason will soften their rash revenge. Well-
chosen words have a secret power in appeasing anger.
If not, leave to me your Knight’s last defence.”

Then, turning to the brothers, he first tried what
persuasion would do. He took for granted that their
wrath was provoked by wrongs they had suffered, and
did not challenge the right or justice of their actions;
but, on behalf of the sleeping man, he entreated pardon
for anything he might have done amiss.

To this gentle speech the brothers made rude and
insulting answers, and Pyrocles, not waiting to set
the Prince on guard, lifted high the magic sword,
thinking to kill him. The faithful steel refused to
harm its master, and swerved from the mark, but the
blow was so furious it made man and horse reel.
Prince Arthur was such a splendid rider that he did
not fall from the saddle; but, full of anger, he cried
fiercely —

“False traitor! you have broken the law of arms
by striking a foe unchallenged, but you shall soon
right bitterly taste the fruit of your treason, and feel
the law which you have disgraced.”

14.2
The Champion of Chivalry

With that he levelled his spear at Pyrocles, and the
two were soon engaged in a fiery battle. Cymocles
rushed to his brother’s aid, and they both fell on the
Prince with terrific fury, so that he had hard work to
defend himself. So mighty was his power that neither
of his foes could stand against it; but whenever he
smote at Pyrocles, the latter threw in front of him
Guyon’s shield, on which was portrayed the face of
the Faerie Queene, and when he saw this, the Prince’s
hand relented, and he stayed the stroke, because of the
love and loyalty he bore the picture. This often saved
the Pagan knight from deadly harm, but at last Prince
Arthur overcame and killed both him and his brother,
while false Archimago and Strife fled fast away.

By this time Sir Guyon had awakened from his
trance, and was much grieved when he found that his
shield and sword had disappeared; but when he saw
beside him his faithful companion, whom he had lost
some days before, he was very glad. ‘The Palmer was
delighted to see him rise looking so well, and told him
not to trouble about the loss of his weapons, for they
would soon be restored to him. Then he told Guyon
all that had happened, and how the strange Knight
had fought for him with the two wicked brothers.

When he heard this, Sir Guyon was deeply touched,
and felt all his heart fill with affection. Bowing to
Prince Arthur with due reverence, as to the defender
of his life, he said, “‘ My lord, my liege, by whose most
gracious aid I live this day and see my foes subdued,
what reward would be sufficient to repay you for your
great goodness, unless to be ever bound gs

143


Sir Guyon

But the Prince interrupted. “Fair sir, what need
is there to reckon a good turn as a debt to be paid?
Are not all knights bound by oath to withstand the
power of the oppressor? It is sufficient that I have
done my duty properly.”

So they both found that a good deed is made

gracious by kindness and courtesy.

.The House of Temperance

After the Pagan brothers were conquered, and Prince
Arthur had recovered his stolen sword and Guyon his
lost shield, the two went on their way together, talking
pleasantly as they journeyed along. When the sun was
near setting they saw in the distance a goodly castle,
placed near a river, in a pleasant valley. Thinking this
place would do to spend the night in, they marched
thither, but when they came near, and dismounted from
their tired steeds, they found the gates barred and every
fastening locked, as though for fear of foes. They
thought this was done as an insult to them, to prevent
their entrance, till the Squire blew his horn under the
castle wall, which shook with the sound as if it would
fal]. Then a watchman quickly looked forth from the
highest tower, and called loudly to the knights to ask
what they required so rudely. They gently answered
that they wished to enter.

“Fly, fly, good knights!” he said; ‘fly fast away
if you love your lives, as it is right you should. Fly
fast, and save yourselves from instant death. You

144
The House of Temperance

may not enter here, though we would most willingly
let you in if only we could. But a thousand enemies
rage round us, who have held the castle in siege for
seven years, and many good knights who have sought
to save us have been slain.”

As he spoke, a thousand villains, with horrible out-
cry, swarmed around them from the adjoining rocks
and caves—vile wretches, ragged, rude, and hideous,
all threatening death, and all armed in a curious
manner, some with unwieldy clubs, some with long
spears, some with rusty knives, some with staves heated
in the fire. They looked like wild bulls, staring with
hollow eyes, and with stiff hair standing on end.

They assailed the Knights fiercely, and made them
recoil, but when Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon charged
again their strength began to fail, and they were un-
_able to withstand them, for the champions broke on
them with such might that they were forced to fly like
scattered sheep before the rush of a lion and a tiger.
The Knights with their shining blades soon broke their
rude ranks, and drove them into confusion, hewing and
slashing at them; and now, when faced boldly, they
found that they were nothing but idle shadows, for,
though they seemed bodies, they had really no substance.

When they had dispersed this troublesome rabble,
Prince Arthur and Guyon came again to the castle
gate, and begged entrance, where they had been refused
before. The report of their danger and conflict having
reached the ears of the lady who dwelt there, she came
out with a goodly train of squires and ladies to bid
them welcome.

145 : K
Sir Guyon

The lady’s name was Alma. She was as beautiful
as it was possible to be, in the very flower of her youth,
yet full of goodness and modesty. She was clad in a
robe of lily-white, reaching from her shoulders to the
ground; the long, loose train, embroidered with gold
and pearls, was carried by two fair damsels. Her
yellow-golden hair was trimly arranged, and she wore
no head-dress except a garland of sweet roses:

She entertained the Knights nobly, and, when they
had rested a little, they begged her, as a great favour,
to show them over her castle. This she consented
to do.

First she led them up to the castle wall, which was
so high that no foe could climb it, and yet was both
beautiful and fit for defence. It was not built of
brick, nor yet of stone, sand, nor mortar, but of clay.
The pity was that such goodly workmanship could net
last longer, for it must soon turn back to earth.

Two gates were placed in this building, the one
(mouth) by which all passed in far excelling the other
in workmanship. When it was locked, no one could
pass through, and when it was opened no man could
shut it. Within the barbican sat a porter (the congue),
day and night keeping watch and ward; nobody could
go in or out of the gate without strict scrutiny.
Utterers of secrets he debarred, babblers of folly, and
those who told tales of wrong-doing; when cause
required it, his alarm-bell might be heard far and
wide, but never without occasion.

Round the porch on each side sat sixteen warders
(the ¢eeth), all in bright array; tall yeomen they

146








“ ut soone the knights with their brigbt-burning blades
Broke their rude troupes, and orders did confound,
‘bewing and slasbing at their dle shades;
For though they bodies seem, yet substaunce from them fades.”





The House of Pemperance

seemed, of great strength, and were ranged ready for
fight.

Alma then took the Knights over the rest of the
castle, and:showed them so many curious and beautiful
things that their minds were filled with wonder, for
they had never before seen so strange a sight. Pre-
sently she brought them back into a beautiful parlour
(the Zeart), hung with rich tapestry, where sat a bevy
of fair ladies (the feelings, tastes, &c.), amusing them-
selves in different ways. Some sang, some laughed,
some played with straws, some sat idly at ease; but
othess could not bear to play—all amusement was
annoyance to them. This one frowned, that one
yawned, a third blushed for shame, another seemed
envious or shy, while another gnawed a rush and looked
sullen.

After that, Alma took her guests up to a stately
turret (the ead), in which two beacons (the eyes)
gave light, and flamed continually, for they were most
marvellously made of living fire, and set in silver sockets,
covered with lids that could easily open and shut.

In this turret there were many rooms and places,
but three chief ones, in which dwelt three honourable
sages, who counselled fair Alma how to govern well.
The first of these could foresee things to come; the
second could best advise of things present; the third
kept things past in memory, so that no time or occa-
sion could arise which one or other of them could not
deal with.

The first sat in the front of the house, so that
nothing should hinder his coming to a conclusion

149
Sir Guyon

quickly; he made up his mind in advance, without .
listening to reason; he had a keen foresight, and an
active brain that was never idle and never rested. His
room held a collection of the oddest and queerest things
ever seen or imagined. It was filled, too, with flies,
that buzzed all about, confusing men’s eyes and ears,
with a sound like a swarm of bees. ‘These were idle
thoughts and fancies, dreams, visions, soothsayings,
prophecies, &c., and all kinds of false tales and lies.

The second counsellor was a much older man. He
spent all his time meditating over things that had really
happened, and in studying law, art, science and philo-
sophy, so that he had grown very wise indeed.

The third counsellor was a very, very aged man.
His chamber seemed very ruinous and old, and was
therefore at the back of the house, but the walls that
upheld it were quite firm and strong. He was half
blind, and looked feeble in body, but his mind was
still vigorous. All things that had happened, however
ancient they were, he faithfully recorded, so that no-
thing might be forgotten.

The names of Alma’s three counsellors were Ima-
gination, Judgment, and Memory.

The Rock of Reproach and the Wandering Islands

The next morning, before it was light, Sir Guyon,
clad in his bright armour, and accompanied bythe Palmer
in his black dress, started once more on his journey
to find the wicked enchantress, Acrasia, and the Bower

150
The Rock of Reproach

of Bliss. At the river ford, they found a ferryman,
whom Alma had commanded to be there with his well-
rigged boat. They went on board, and he imme-
diately launched his bark, and Lady Alma’s country
was soon left far behind.

For two days they sailed without even seeing land ;
but on the morning of the third day, they heard, far
away, a hideous roaring that filled them with terror,
and they saw the surges rage so high, they feared to be
drowned.

Then said the boatman, “ Palmer, steer aright, and
keep'an even course, for we must needs pass yonder
way. That is the Gulf of Greediness, which swallows
up all it can devour, and is in a constant turmoil.”

On the other side, stood a hideous rock of mighty
magnet stone, whose craggy cliffs were dreadful to
behold. Great jagged reefs ran out into the water,
and threatened death to all who came near. Yet
passers-by were unable to keep away, for trying to
escape the devouring jaws of the Gulf of Greediness,
they were dashed to pieces on the rock. :

As they drew near this dreadful spot, the ferryman
had to put forth all his strength and skill to row them
past. On the one hand, they saw the horrible gulf,
that looked as if it were sucking down all the sea into
itself; and on the other hand, they saw the perilous
rock, on whose sharp cliffs lay the ribs of many shat-
tered vessels, together with the dead bodies of those who
had recklessly flung themselves to destruction.

The name of the rock was the “Rock of Re-
proach.” It was a dangerous and hateful place, to

yi
Sir Guyon

which no fish nor fowl ever came, but only screaming
sea-gulls and cormorants, who sat waiting on the cliff
to prey on the unhappy wretches whose extravagant
and thriftless living had brought them to ruin.

Sir Guyon and his companions passed by this
dangerous spot in safety, and the ferryman rowed them
briskly over the dancing billows.

At last, far off, they spied many islands floating
on every side among the waves. Then said the Knight,
‘Lo, I see the land, so, Sir Palmer, direct your course
tonit.

“Not so,” said the ferryman, “lest we unknow-
ingly run into danger; for those same islands, which
now and then appear, are not firm land, nor have they
any certain abiding-place; they are straggling plots,
which run to and fro in the wide waters, wherefore
they are called the ‘Wandering Islands,’ and are to
be shunned, for they have drawn many a traveller into

_danger and distress. Yet from far off, they seem very
pleasant, both fair and fruitful, the ground spread
with soft, green grass, and the tall trees covered with
leaves, and decked with white and red blossoms that
might well allure passers-by. But whoever once sets
his foot on those islands can never recover it, but
evermore wanders, uncertain and unsure.”

Sir Guyon and the Palmer listened to their pilot, as
seemed HEED g; and they passed on their way.

““Now,”’ said the cautious boatman, when they had
left behind them the Wandering Islands (or, Zes¢less
adleness), “we must be careful to take good heed of
our safety here, for a perilous passage lies before us.

1D








sg Said then the #Boteman, ‘Palmer, stere aright,
And keepe an even course; for yonder way
We needes must pas (God doe us well acquight).’ ”’

~The Rock of Reproach

There is a great quicksand, and a whirlpool of hidden
danger; therefore, Sir Palmer, keep a steady hand, for
the narrow way lies between them.”

Scarcely had he spoken, when near at hand they
spied the quicksand; it was almost covered with
water, but they knew it at once by the waves round it
and the discoloured sea. It was called the Quicksand
of Unthriftiness.

Passing by, they saw a goodly ship, laden from far
with precious merchandise, and well fitted as a ship
could be, which through misadventure or careless-
ness had run herself into danger. The mariners
and merchants, with much toil, laboured in vain to
recover their prize and to save the rich wares. from
destruction, but neither toil nor trouble served to free
her from the quicksand. :

On the other. side, they saw the dangerous pool
that was called the Whirlpool of Decay, in which
many had haplessly sunk, of whom no memory re-
mained. The circling waters whirled round, like a rest-
less wheel, eager to draw the boat into the outer limit
of the labyrinth, and to drown the travellers. But the
heedful ferryman rowed with all his might, so that they

passed by in safety and left the dreaded danger behind.
Suddenly they saw in the midst of the ocean, the surg-
ing waters rise like a mountain, and the great sea puffed
up, as though threatening to devour everything. The
waves came rolling along, and the billows roared in fury,
though there was not a breath of wind. At this, Sir
Guyon, the Palmer, and the ferryman were greatly afraid,
for they knew not what strange horror was approaching.

oe)
Sir Guyon

Sea-Monsters and Land-Monsters

Presently they saw a hideous crowd of» huge sea-
monsters, such as terrified any one to behold; every
shape of ugliness and horror was there—water-snakes,
and whales, and sword-fish, and hippopotamuses, and
sharks, and every kind of sea-monster, and ;they came
along in thousands, with a dreadful noise and a hollow,
rumbling roar. No wonder the Knight was appalled,
for, compared with these, all that we hold dreadful on
earth were but a trifle.

“Bear nothing,” then said the Palmer, ‘‘ “for these
creatures that look like monsters are not $0, in reality ;
they are only disguised into these fearful shapes by the
wicked enchantress to terrify us, and to oe our
continuing our journey.’

Then, lifting up his magic staff, he smote the sea,
which immediately became calm, and all the make-
believe monsters fled to the bottom of the ocean.

Free from that danger, the travellers kept on their
way, and as they went, they heard a pitiful: cry, as of
some one wailing and weeping. At last, on an island,
they saw a beautiful maiden, who seemed in great
sorrow, and who kept calling to them for help:' Directly
Guyon heard her, he bade the Palmer steer straight
to her rescue; but the latter, knowing better, said,
“Fair sir, do not be displeased if I disobey you, for
it would be a bad thing to listen to her,;for really
there is nothing the matter; it is only a trick to
entrap you.”

156
Sea and Land Monsters

The Knight was guided by his advice, and the
ferryman ‘held steadily straight on his course.

The next temptation they had to face was of a
different kind. They came to a lovely bay, sheltered
on the one side by a steep hill, and on the other by
a high rock, so that between them was a still and
pleasant haven. In this bay lived five mermaids, who
could sing in the sweetest manner possible, but the
only use they made of their skill in melody was to
allure travellers, whom, when they had got hold of,
they killed. So now to Guyon as he passed, they
began to sing their sweetest tunes, greeting him as the
_ mightiest knight that had ever fought in battle, and
bidding him to turn his rudder into the quiet bay,
where his storm-beaten vessel might safely ride.

‘“‘Thisis the port of rest from troublous toil,” they
sang ; ‘‘ the world’s sweet inn from pain and wearisome
turmoil.” -

The rolling sea and the waves breaking on the rock
mingled with their singing, and the wind whistled in
harmony. »The sound so delighted Guyon that he bade
the boatman row slowly, to let him listen to their
melody. But the Palmer wisely counselled him not to
do this, and so they got safely past the danger, and
soon after they saw, in the distance, the land to which
they were directing their course.

Then suddenly a thick fog came down upon them,
hiding the cheerful daylight, and making the whole
world seem a confused mass. They were much dis-
mayed at this, not knowing which way to steer in the
darkness, ‘and fearing that they would fall into some

L5/
Sir Guyon

hidden danger. To add to their confusion, they were
attacked by a flock of horrible birds, which flew scream-
ing round them, beating at them with their wicked wings -
—owls, and ravens, and bats, and screech-owls. Yet
the travellers would not stay because of these, but went
straight forward, the ferryman rowing, while the Palmer
kept a firm hand on the rudder, till at last the weather
began to clear, and the land showed plainly. Then
the .Palmer warned Sir Guyon to have his armour in
readiness, for peril would soon assail him.

The Knight obeyed, and when the boat reached
the shore, he and the Palmer stepped out, fully armed,
and carefully prepared against every danger.

They had not gone far, before they heard a hideous
bellowing, and a pack of wild beasts rushed forward
as if to devour them. But when they came near, the
Palmer lifted up his wonderful staff, and immediately
they were quelled, and shrank back trembling.

Passing these, Sir Guyon and the Palmer soon came
to the place the Knight was seeking—the object of
his long and toilsome quest—the home of the wicked
enchantress— the ‘‘ Bower of Bliss.”

The Bower of Bliss

It was a lovely spot, a placé adorned in the most
perfect way by which art could imitate nature; every-
thing sweet and pleasing, or that the daintiest fancy
could devise, was gathered here in lavish profusion.
A light fence enclosed it, and a rich ivory gate,

158


“wre long they beard an bideous bellowing
Of many beasts, that roared outrageously.

Put soone as they approcht with deadly threat,
The Palmer over them bis statfe upheld.”

The Bower of Bliss

wonderfully carven, stood open to all those that came
thither.

In the porch sat a tall, handsome porter, whose
looks were so pleasant that he seemed to entice
travellers to him, but it was only to deceive them to
their own ruin. He was the keeper of the garden,
and his name was Pleasure. He was decked with
flowers, and by his side was set a great bowl of wine,
with which he pleased all new-comers. He offered it
to Sir Guyon, but the latter refused his idle courtesy,
and overthrew the bowl.

Passing through the gate, they beheld a large and
spacious plain, strewn on every side with delights. The
ground was covered with green grass, and made beauti-
ful with all kinds of lovely flowers; the skies were
always bright, and the air soft and balmy; no storm
or frost ever came to harm the tender blossoms ; neither
scorching heat nor piercing cold to hurt those who
dwelt therein.

Guyon wondered much at the loveliness of that
sweet place, yet would not suffer any of its delights to
allure him, but passed straight through, and still looked
forward. Presently he came to a beautiful arbour,
fashioned out of interlacing boughs and branches. This
was arched over with a clustering vine, richly laden with
bunches of luscious grapes—some were deep purple
like the hyacinth—some like rubies, laughing red—
some like emeralds, not yet well ripened, and there were
others of burnished gold. They almost broke down
the branches with their weight, and seemed to offer
themselves to be freely gathered by the passers-by.

161 L
Sir Guyon

In the arbour sat a finely dressed lady; she held
in her left hand a golden cup, and with her right hand
she gathered the ripe fruit, and squeezed the juice of
the grapes into the cup. It was her custom to give a
draught of this wine to every stranger that passed,
but when she offered it to Guyon to taste, he took
the cup out of her hand, and flung it to the ground,
so that it was broken and all the wine spilt. A-vcess,
for that was the lady’s name, was very angry at this,
but she could not withstand -the Knight, and was
obliged to let him pass, and he went on, heedless of
her displeasure.

Then before his eyes appeared a most lovely para-
dise, abounding in every sort of pleasure: rainbow-
coloured flowers, lofty trees, shady dells, breezy
mountains, rustling groves, crystal streams—it was
impossible to tell which was art and which nature,
they were so cunningly mingled; both combined made
greater the beauty of the other, and adorned this garden
with an endless variety.

In the midst of all, stood a fountain made of the
most precious materials on earth, so pure and bright
that one could see the silver flood running through
every channel. It was wrought all over with curious
carving, and above all was spread a trail of ivy of the
purest gold, coloured like nature, so that any one who
saw it would surely think it was real ivy. Number-
less little streams continually welled out of this foun-
tain, and formed a little lake, through the shallow.
water of which one could see the bottom, all paved
with shining jasper.

162
Ee Bower of Bliss

Then at last Sir Guyon and the Palmer drew near
to the “Bower of Bliss,’ so called by the foolish
favourites of the wicked enchantress.

“Now, sir, consider well,” said the Palmer, “for
here is the end of all our travel. Here dwells Acrasia,
whom we must surprise, or else she will slip away, and
laugh at our attempt.”

Soon they heard the most lovely melody, such as
might never be heard on mortal ground. It was almost
impossible to say what kind of music it was, for all that .
is pleasing to the ear there joined in harmony—the
joyous singing of birds, angelic voices, silver-sounding
instruments, murmuring waters, and the whispering
wind; and through it all they heard the singing of one
voice, sweeter than all the others.

But in spite of the lovely music heard on every
side, Sir Guyon and the Palmer never left their path ;
they kept on through many groves and thickets, till at
last they came in sight of the wicked enchantress herself.
She lay, half-sleeping, on a bed of roses, clad in a veil
of silk and silver; all round were many fair ladies and
boys singing sweetly. Not far off was her last victim,
a gallant-looking youth, over whom she had cast an
evil spell. His brave sword and armour hung idly on
a tree, and he lay sunk in a heavy slumber, forgetful of
all the noble deeds in which he had once delighted.

Sir Guyon and the Palmer cautiously drew near,
then suddenly rushed forward, and flung over Acrasia
a net which the skilful Palmer had made for the occa-
sion. All her attendants immediately fled in terror.
Acrasia tried all her arts and crafty wiles to set herself

163
Sir Guyon

free, but in vain; the net was so cunningly woven,
neither guile nor force could disentangle her.



Then Sir Guyon broke down without
pity all the pleasant bowers, and the stately —
palace, and trampled down the gardens, and burnt
the banqueting-hall, so that nothing was left of the
beautiful place to tempt other people to ruin.
164.
The Bower of Bliss

As for Acrasia, they led her away captive, bound
with adamantine chains, for nothing else would keep
her safe ; and when they came back to the place where
they had met the wild beasts, these again flew fiercely
at them, as if they would rescue their mistress. But
the Palmer soon pacified them.

Then Guyon asked what was the meaning of these
beasts that lived there.

‘These seeming beasts are really men whom the en-
chantress has thus transformed,” replied the Palmer.
“Now they are turned into these hideous figures, in
accordance with their bad and ugly minds.”

‘¢ A sad end of an ignoble life, and a mournful result
of excess in pleasure,” said the Knight. ‘But, Palmer,
if it may so please you, let them be returned to their
former state.”

So the Palmer struck them with his staff, and im-
mediately they were turned into men. Very queer and
ill at ease they looked. Some were inwardly ashamed,
and some were angry to see the Lady Acrasia captive.
But one in particular, who had_ lately been a hog, Grill
by name, loudly lamented, and abused the Knight for
bringing him back from the shape of a hog into that
of a man.

Then said Guyon, ‘See how low a man can sink, to
forget so soon the excellence in which he was created, and
to choose rather to be a beast without intelligence!”

“Worthless men delight in base things,” said the
Palmer. “Let Grill be Grill, and have his hoggish
mind. But let us depart hence, while wind and
weather serve.”

165
Sir Guyon

So Sir Guyon, having overthrown the power of the
wicked enchantress, went back to the house of Alma,
where he had left Prince Arthur. The captive Acrasia
he sent under a strong guard to the court of the
Faerie Queene, to be presented to Queen Gloriana as
a proof that he had accomplished his hard task ; but
he himself travelled forth with Prince Arthur, to
make further trial of his. strength and to seek fresh
adventures.

166


The Legend of Britomart

How Sir Guyon met a Champion mightier
than himself

ees the capture of the wicked enchantress
Acrasia, Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon travelled
long and far together in all sorts of dangerous places.
They met with many perilous adventures, which won
them great glory and honour, for their aim was always
to relieve the weak and oppressed, and to recover right
for those who had suffered wrong.
167
The Legend of Britomart

At last one day, as they rode across an open plain,
they saw a Knight spurring towards them. An aged
squire rode beside him, and on the Knight’s shield was
emblazoned a lion on a golden field.

When they saw him, Sir Guyon begged Prince
Arthur to let him be the one to face the attack, and the
Prince agreeing, Guyon levelled his spear and galloped
towards the Knight. They met with such fury that
the stranger reeled in his saddle, and Guyon himself,
before he was aware, was hurled from his horse.

His fall filled him with shame and sorrow, for never
yet since he bore arms had such a disgrace happened
to him. He need not, however, have been so grieved,
for it was no fault of his own that he was dismounted.
The spear that brought him to the ground was en-
chanted, and no one could resist it.

But Guyon would have felt far more sorry and
ashamed had he known that the Knight who overthrew
him ‘was in reality a maiden. The stranger was no
other than the famous Princess Britomart, daughter
of Ryence, King of South Wales. She was roaming
the world in search of Artegall, the champion Knight
of Justice, whose image she had once beheld in a magic
mirror given by the magician Merlin to her father.
So grand and noble was the image of this splendid
Knight that Britomart felt she could never rest until
she had seen him in reality. She dressed herself in
the armour of a knight, and her old nurse, Glaucé,
disguised herself as her squire, and together the two
left the court of King Ryence and wandered through
the world in search of Sir Artegall.

168


“put Guyon selfe, ere well be was aware,
Wigb a speares length bebind bis crouper fell,”



How Sir Guyon met a Champion

Sir Guyon, full of anger at his fall, and eager to
revenge himself, rose hastily, drew his sword, and
rushed at the foe; but his attendant, the Black Palmer,
who had been his faithful companion and guide in all
his former adventures, implored his master not to run
into fresh danger. By his great wisdom he could tell
that Britomart’s spear was enchanted, and that no
mortal power could withstand it.

Prince Arthur joined his entreaties to the Palmer’s,
and they both spoke so wisely that Guyon’s anger
melted away. Britomart and he became reconciled, and
swore a firm friendship. In those days, when knights
fought together, it was often not at all in malice,
but only to test their strength and manliness. ‘The
one who conquered won much renown, but the van-
quished felt no spite nor envy. It is a great thing to
be able to lose with a good grace, without becoming
sulky and disagreeable. Later ages might do well
in this respect to learn a lesson from the days of
chivalry.

So Britomart, Prince Arthur, and Sir Guyon then
travelled on together in the most friendly fashion,
seeking further adventures. For some time nothing
happened, but at length they came to a wide forest,
which seemed very horrible and dreary. They rode a
long way through this, but found no track of living
creature, except bears, and lions, and bulls, which
roamed all around. Suddenly, out of the thickest
part of the wood, something rushed past them.

7s
thee keeend Of Beitomare

How Britomart fought with Six Knights

The creature that rushed from the wood, across
the path of Britomart, Sir Guyon, and Prince Arthur,
was a milk-white pony. On its back was a lovely
lady, whose face shone as clear as crystal, though it
was now white with fear. Her garments were all
worked with beaten gold, and the trappings of her
steed were coyered with glittering embroidery. The
pony fled so fast that nothing could hold it, and they
could scarcely see the lady. She kept casting back-
ward glances, as if she feared some evil that closely
pursued her, and her bright yellow hair flew out far
behind in the wind like the trail of a blazing comet.

The name of the lady was Florimell.

As the Knights stood gazing after her, there rushed
from the same thicket a rough, clownish woodman,
fiercely urging on his tired horse through thick and
thin, over bank and bush, hoping by some means to
get hold of Florimell. He was a huge, cruel-looking
fellow, and in his hand he carried a sharp boar-spear.

Directly Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon saw this
they stayed not a moment to see which would be first,
but both spurred after as fast as they could to rescue
the lady from the villain.

Britomart waited some time to see if they would
return, but finding they did not come back she again
set forward on her journey with steadfast courage.
She intended no evil, nor did she fear any.

At last, when she had nearly reached the edge of

172


“ut faire before the gate a spatious plapne
MMantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde,
On which she saw siz knights, that did darrayne
Ficrs battail against one with cruel might and mayne.”



How Britomart fought

the wood, she spied far away a stately Castle, to which
she immediately directed her steps. This castle was a
fine building, and placed for pleasure near the edge of
the forest, but in front of the gate stretched a wide,
green plain.

On this plain Britomart saw six knights, who were
all engaged in cruel battle against one Knight. They
attacked him with great violence all at the same time,
and sorely beset him on every side, so that he was
nearly breathless; but nothing could dismay him, and
he never yielded a foot of ground, although he was
sorely wounded. He dealt his blows stoutly, and
whichever way he turned he made his enemies recoil,
so that not one of all the six dared face him alone.
They were like cowardly curs having some savage crea-
ture at bay, who run about here and there to snatch
a bite at their prey whenever his back is turned.

When Britomart saw this gallant Knight in such
distress and danger, she ran quickly to his rescue, and
called to the six others to cease their attack on a
single enemy. They paid no attention, but rather
increased their spiteful fury, till Britomart, rushing
through the thickest crowd, broke up their band, and
compelled them, by force, to listen to peace. Then
she began mildly to inquire the cause of their dispute
and outrageous anger.

Thereupon the single Knight answered, ‘ These
six tried by force to make me give up my own dear
lady, and love another. I would rather die than do
such a thing. For I love one lady, the truest one on
earth, and I have no desire to change. For her dear

IS
ihe Wegend of Britomart

sake I have endured many a bitter peril and met with
many a wound.” | ;

‘““‘Then, certainly, you six are to blame,” said
Britomart, ‘“‘for it would be a great shame for a
knight to leave his faithful lady—it would be better
to die. Neither can you compel love by force.”

Then spoke one of the six. ‘There dwells within
this Castle a fair lady whose beauty has no living rival.
She has ordained this law, which we approve—that
every knight who comes this way, and has no lady of
his own, shall enter her service, never to leave it. But
if he has already a lady whom he loves, then he must
give her up, or else fight with us to prove that she is
fairer than our lady.”

“Truly,” said Britomart, “the choice is hard.
But, suppose the knight overcame, what reward would
Nesoctens

‘Then he would be advanced to high honour, and
win the hand of our lady,” was the answer. ‘‘ There-
fore, sir, if you love any one——” ;

“T certainly will not give up my love, nor will I
do service to your lady,” replied Britomart. “But
I will revenge the. wrong you have done to this
Knight.” :

Then she rode at the six with her enchanted spear,
and overthrew three of them before they were well
aware of it. The fourth was dismayed by the Knight
to whose rescue she had come, and the two others gave
in before she touched them.

“Too well we see our own weakness and. your
matchless power,” they said. “Henceforth, fair sir,

176
Britomart in Castle Joyous

according to her own law, the lady is yours, and we
plight our loyalty to you as liegemen.”

So they threw their swords under Britomart’s feet,
and afterwards besought her to enter into the castle,
and reap the reward of her victory.

Britomart consenting, they all went in together.

How it fared with Britomart in Castle Joyous

The stately mansion into which Britomart and the
rescued Knight now entered was called “ Castle Joyous,”
and the owner of it was known to her retainers by the
name of “the Lady of Delight.” It would be im-
possible to tell all the wonderful richness and beauty
of this building, which was adorned fit for the palace
of a prince.

Passing through a lofty and spacious chamber,
every pillar of which was pure gold, set with pearls
and precious stones, the knights came to an inner
room, hung with the most costly tapestry. The place
was filled with the sweetest music and the singing of
birds, but the wasteful luxury they saw on every side
did not please Britomart nor the Knight, and they
looked with a scornful eye on such lavish profusion.

Then they came into the presence of the Lady of
the Castle. They found her seated on a splendid
couch, glittering with gold and embroidery. She
seemed very generous and of rare beauty, but she was
neither gentle nor modest, and she never hesitated 'to
gratify her own desires at any cost.

177 M
The Legend of Britomart

When she saw Britomart, who, in her armour,
appeared to be a young and handsome knight, she
took a great liking to her, and thought how nice it
would be if she would enter into her service, and stay
altogether at the Castle. All through the splendid
supper which was presently served, she-tried to make
herself as agreeable as ever she could, hoping that
Britomatt would be tempted to remain. After supper, :
she begged her to lay aside her armour, and enjoy
some sport; but this the maiden refused to do, for
she wore it as a disguise. . Britomart would not be so
discourteous as to repulse the kindly spoken offers of
goodwill, but she in her heart thought that such a
sudden affection for a meneeone guest could not be
worth very much.

When the supper-tables were cleared away, all the
knights, and squires, and dames began to make merry.
There was dancing and gambling, and every kind of
revelry; but through it all Malecasta (which was the
real name of the Lady of Delight) was plotting in her
own mind how she could get hold of Britomart. If
the gallant young Knight (as she thought him) would
not consent to stay of his own free will, she deter-
mined to detain him by guile.

So that night, when Britomart had taken off her
armour and was fast asleep, Malecasta went to her
room. Britomart sprang up in a great fright, and ran
to seize her weapon; but Malecasta shrieked for her
six knights, and they all came rushing in, armed
and half-armed. When they saw Britomart, with her
sword drawn, they were afraid to go near her; but

178


“ ut one of these sire knights, Gardanté bight,
Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene,
Wbich forth be sent, with felonous despight
nd fell intent, against the virgin sbeene.”



Britomart and the Magic Mirror

one of them drew a deadly bow, and shot a keen arrow
at her, which wounded her in the side. But the noise
had also wakened the other Knight, who now ran to
her help, and, fighting together side by side, they soon
defeated their foes.

When they were all put to shameful flight, Brito-
mart arrayed herself again in her armour, for she
would stay no longer in a place where such things
were done by those who were apparently noble knights
and ladies. Quite early, therefore, while the dawn was
still grey, she and her companion-knight took their
steeds and went forth upon their journey. ;

How Britomart looked into the Magic Mirror

As Britomart and the Knight journeyed away from
‘Castle Joyous, it came into the Knight’s mind to ask
the Princess what had brought her into that part of
the country, and why she disguised herself thus: for
she seemed a beautiful lady when she was dressed as
one, but the handsomest knight alive when she was
clad in armour.

“Fair sir,” replied Britomart, “I would have you
know that from the hour when I left my nurse’s arms,
I have been trained up in warlike ways, to toss spear
and shield, and to meet and overthrow warrior knights.
I loathe to lead the lazy life of pleasure that most
ladies do, fingering fine needle and fancy thread; I
would rather die at the point of the foeman’s spear.
All my delight is set on deeds of arms, to hunt out

181
The Legend of Britomart

perils and adventures wherever they may be met by
sea or land, not for riches nor for reward, but only for
glory and honour. For this reason, I came into these
parts, far from my native country, without map or
compass, to seek for praise and fame.

“For report has blazed forth that here, in the
land of the Faerie Queene, many famous knights and
ladies dwell, and many strange adventures can be
found, out of which much glory may be won; and to
prove this, I have begun this voyage. But may I ask
of you, courteous Knight, tidings of one who has
behaved very badly to me, and on whom I am seeking -
to revenge myself; he is called Artegall.”

Britomart did not mean what she said of Artegall;
she only spoke like this to conceal her real feelings.
As soon as the words were uttered she repented, and
would have recalled them, but her companion answered
almost before she had finished speaking. He said she
was very wrong to upbraid so scornfully a gentle Knight,
for of all who ever rode at tilt or tourney, the noble
Artegall was the most renowned. It would be very
strange, therefore, if any shameful thought ever entered
his mind, or if he did any deed deserving of blame, for
noble courage does nothing unworthy of itself.

Britomart grew wonderfully glad to hear her love
thus highly praised, and rejoiced that she had given
her heart to one so gallant; but in order to lead
the Knight to speak further in the same style, she still
pretended to find fault with Artegall, and asked where
he might be found, because she wanted to fight with
him.

182
Britomart and the Magic Mirror

‘Ah, if only reason could persuade you to soften
your anger!” said the Knight. “It is a bold thing
to imagine you can bind a man like this down to hard
conditions, or to hope to match in equal fight one
whose prowess has no living rival. Besides, it is not
at all easy to tell where or how he can be found, for
he never dwells in any settled spot, but roams all over
the world, always doing noble deeds, defending the
rightful cause of women and orphans, whenever he
hears they are oppressed by might or tyranny. Thus
he wins the highest honour.”

‘These words sank into Britomart’s heart, and filled
her with rapture; but still she would not let her com-
panion see it.

“Since it is so difficult to find Sir Artegall,” she
said, ‘‘ tell me some marks by which he may be known,
in case | happen to meet him by chance. What is he
like? What is his shield—his arms—his steed—and
anything else that may distinguish him?”

The Knight set himself to point out all these, and
described Sir Artegall in every particular.

But Britomart knew already exactly what Sir
Artegall was like; and this is how she came to
know it.

Long ago in Britain she had seen his image plainly
revealed in a magic mirror, and ever since then she
had loved no one else.

For in the days when her father, King Ryence,
reigned over South Wales, Merlin, the great magician,
had by his spells devised a wonderful looking-glass,
the fame of which soon went through all the world.

183
The Legend of Britomart

For this mirror had the power of showing perfectly
whatever thing the world contained, between heaven



and earth, provided it had to do with the person who

looked into it. Whatever a foe had done, or a friend
184 -
Britomart and the Magic Mirror

had feigned, was revealed in this mirror, and it was
impossible to keep anything secret from it.

’ The mirror was round and hollow, and seemed
like a great globe of glass. Merlin gave it to King
Ryence as a safeguard, so that if foes ever invaded his
kingdom he would always know it at home before he
heard tidings, and thus be able to prevent them. A
present which could thus detect treason and overthrow
enemies, was a famous one for a prince.

One day Britomart happened to go into her father’s
private room. Nothing was kept hidden from her,
for she was his only daughter, and his heir. When
she spied the mirror, she first looked in to see herself,
but in vain. Then,.remembering the strange power it
was said to possess, she tried to think of some interest-
ing thing that concerned herself, and thus she wondered
what husband fortune would allot to her.

Immediately there was presented to her eyes the
picture of a gallant Knight, clad in complete armour.
His face, under the uplifted visor of the helmet,
showed forth like the sun, to terrify his foes and
make glad his friends. His heroic grace and noble
bearing added to the grandeur of his figure.

His crest was a crouching hound, and all his
armour seemed of an antique fashion, but was wonder-
fully massive and stout, and fretted all round with gold ;
written on it in ancient lettering were the words—

“Fchilles’ arms, which Artegall did win.”

On his shield he bore the device of a little crowned
- ermine on an azure field. ,
185
The Legend of Britomart

Britomart looked well at the figure of this Knight,
and liked it well, and then went on her way, never
dreaming that her future fate lay hidden at the bottom
of this globe of glass.

How Britomart went to the Cave of the Magician
Merlin

After Britomart had seen the figure of Sir Artegall
in the magic mirror, a strange thing happened. She
grew pale and ill, and lost all her merry spirits, and
she no longer cared to do any of the things in which
she had formerly delighted. At night, instead of
sleeping, she tossed about, and sighed and wept; or
if she did close her eyes for a few minutes, it was only
to dream of dreadful things, and to start awake again
suddenly, with cries of terror.

Her old nurse, Glaucé, was much distressed to see
such a sad change in her dear young mistress, and one
night when Britomart had been more restless than
usual, she begged her to say what was troubling her,
and if she were secretly fretting over anything.

Then Britomart told Glaucé of the splendid Knight
she had seen in the magic mirror, and how she longed
to see him again. If it were some living person, there
might have been some hope for her, but now there
was none, for it was only the shade or semblance of a
knight. So grand and noble was the appearance of
Artegall that Britomart’s heart ached with sorrow to

think she should never see him in real life.
186
The Cave of the Magician

Glaucé tried to comfort her, and spoke cheerfully,
but at first Britomart-would not be consoled, for she
did not see how things could ever be better for her.
It was very foolish of her, she owned, to love only a
shadow, but she knew the remembrance of Sir Artegall
would never fade as long as life lasted, and she felt
that death only could put an end to her grief.

“Well,” said the faithful old nurse, “‘if it 1s a
choice between death and seeing him again, I swear to
you by right or wrong to discover that Knight.”

Her cheerful words quite soothed Britomart’s sad
heart, and she lay down again in bed, and actually got
a little sleep ; as for Glaucé, she turned the lamp low,
and sat by the bedside to watch and weep over her
dear young lady.

After that, Glaucé tried every way she could think
of to cure Britomart’s grief ; but neither medicine, nor
charms, nor good advice did her any good, and the nurse
began to fear the King would be very angry with her
when he heard what had happened to his dear daughter.

At last she thought that he who made the mirror
in which Britomart had seen the strange vision of the
Knight, would surely be able to tell where the real
man could be found. Disguising themselves, there-
fore, in poor clothes, so that no one would know who
they were, she and Britomart took their way to the
place where the great magician, Merlin, had his dwell-
ing, low underneath the ground, in a deep dell, far
from the light of day. It was a hideous, hollow cave,
under a rock that lay near a swift river foaming down
the woody hills.

187
The Legend of Britomart

Arrived here, Glaucé and Britomart at first loitered
about outside, afraid to go into the cave, and beginning
to doubt whether they had done well to come. The
brave maiden, with love to befriend her, was the first
to enter, and there she found the magician deep in
some work of wonder, busily writing strange characters
on the ground.

Merlin was not in the least surprised at their bold
visit, for he knew quite well beforehand of their
coming; but he bade them unfold their business,—
as though anything in the world were hidden from
him!

Then Glaucé told him that for the last three
months some strange malady had taken hold of the
young maiden; what it was, or whence it sprang, she
knew not, but this she knew, that if a remedy were
not found, she would soon see her dead. Merlin
began to smile softly at Glaucé’s smooth speeches, for
he knew quite well she was not telling him the whole
truth, and he said, ““By what you say, your young
lady has more need of a doctor than of my skill. He
who can get help elsewhere, seeks in vain wonders
from magic.”

Glaucé was rather taken aback at hearing these
words, and yet she was unwilling to let her purpose
appear plainly.

“If any doctor’s skill could have cured my dear
daughter,” she said, “I should certainly not have
wished to trouble you; but this sad illness which has
seized her is far beyond natural causes.”

The wizard could stand no more of this, but burst
188


“Deepe busicd *bout worke of wondrous end,
And writing straunge characters in the grownd.”



The Cave of the Magician

out laughing, and said, ‘“‘Glaucé, what need is there
for these excuses to cover the cause which has already
betrayed: itself? And you, fair Britomart, although
dressed in these poor clothes, are no more hidden than
the sun in a veil of clouds. You have done well to
come to me for help, for I can give it you.”

Britomart was quite abashed at finding herself
discovered, and grew very red; but the old nurse was
not in the least discomfited.

“Since you know all our grief—for what is there
that you do not know?”’—she said to Merlin, ‘“‘I pray
you to pity our trouble, and grant us relief.”

Merlin reflected for a few minutes; then he spoke
to Britomart, and told her many things that would
happen in the future. He bade her not to be in the
least troubled, for all would end well, and it was no
misfortune for her to love the most powerful knight
that had ever lived.

The man whom she had seen in the magic mirror
was Sir Artegall, the champion Knight of /wstzce, and
he dwelt in the land of the Faerie Queene. He was
a mighty warrior, and would fight many battles for
his native country, in which Britomart would aid him.
He would win again for himself the crown that was
his father’s by right, and he would reign with great
happiness. His son would succeed him, and after
him would come a long race of kings.

When Britomart and her old nurse, Glaucé, had
heard all they wanted to know, they both felt very
glad and hopeful, and they returned home with much
lighter hearts than they had set out.

IgI
The Legend of Britomart

How Britomart set forth on her Quest

Britomart and her old nurse Glaucé now. took
counsel together as to the best means of finding Sir
Artegall. They thought of one plan after another,
and at last the nurse hit upon a bold device. She
suggested to Britomart that, as the whole country was
now disturbed by war, they should disguise themselves,
in armour, and go in search of the Knight. It would
be easy for Britomart to do this, for she was tall and
strong, and needed nothing but a little practice to
render her skilful in the use of spear and sword.

“Truly,” said Glaucé, “it ought to fire your
_ courage to hear the poets sing of all the brave women
who have come from the royal house to which you
belong.”

She went on to name a long list of noble Princesses
who had fought gallantly against their country’s ene-
mies, and bade Britomart follow their example and be
equally courageous.

Her stirring words sank deep into the heart of the
maiden, and immediately filled her with courage, and
made her long to do brave deeds. She resolved to go
forth as an adventurous knight, and bade Glaucé put
all things at once in readiness.

It happened fortunately for them that only a few
days before, a band of Britons riding on a foray had
taken some rich spoil from the enemy. Amongst this
was a splendid suit of armour which had belonged
to the Saxon Queen, Angela. It was all fretted with

192




“3n th’ evening late old Glaucé bither led
Faire Pritomart, and, that same Armory
Downe taking, ber therein appareled
Well as she might.” ...



How Britomart set forth

gold, and very beautiful. This, with the other orna-
ments, King Ryence had caused to be hung in his
chief church, as a lasting memorial of his victory.
Glaucé, remembering this, led Britomart there late
one evening, and, taking down the armour, dressed
her in it. Beside the arms stood a mighty spear,
which had been made by magic; ‘no living person
could sit so fast in the saddle but it could hurl him
to the ground. Britomart took this spear, and also
a shield which hung near.

When Glaucé had dressed the maiden she took
another suit of armour, and put it on herself, so that
she could go forth with her young mistress and attend
her carefully as her squire. Then they lightly mounted
their horses, which were ready for them, and rode
away in the darkness of night, so that none should
see them.

They never rested till they reached the land of
the Faerie Queene, as Merlin had directed them.
There they met with the Knight from Queen
Gloriana’s court, as we have already seen, with whom
they had much pleasant conversation, but especially
about the gallant Sir Artegall. When they came
at last to the place where they had to part, the
Knight and Britomart, who greatly liked each other,
promised always to remain true friends, and Britomart
then rode on alone with Glaucé in search of Sir
Artegall.

What her companion had told her about Artegall
made her long all the more to see him, and she
fashioned in her mind a thousand thoughts as to what

rp)
ihe Leoend of Britomart

he would be like, picturing him in her fancy every-
thing that was noble and lovable—‘“ wise, warlike,
handsome, courteous, and kind.” But these thoughts,
instead of soothing her sorrow, only made it worse,
till it seemed that nothing but death could drive away
the pain. So she rode forth, restless and unrefreshed,
searching all lands, and every remotest part, with
nothing but her love to guide her.

How Britomart came to the Castle of the Churl
Malbecco

One night, as Britomart was riding on her way, a
fearful storm came on, great blasts of wind and a
pelting shower of hail. Seeing a Castle in front of
her, she went up to it, and earnestly begged to be let
in. But the Castle belonged to a miserly churl, called
Malbecco, who, because of his jealous and peevish
disposition, refused to allow any strangers to enter his
doors. He cared nothing what men said of him,
good or bad; all his mind was set upon hoarding up
heaps of ill-gotten gain. He was old and ugly, and
lacking in all kindness and courtesy. Instead of
opening his doors to all wandering knights, as was
the custom of the time, he kept them close-barred,
and even in the midst of the terrible tempest which
was then raging, Britomart was flatly refused entrance.
She was greatly displeased at this, and determined
when the time came to punish the churl for his dis-
courtesy.

196
“Pike Castle of Churl Malbecco

But, in order to escape the fury of the gale, she
was compelled to seek some refuge near. Beside the
Castle gate was a little shed, meant for swine, but
when she tried to enter she found it already full of
guests. Another party of knights had been refused
admittance at the Castle, and were forced to fly there
for shelter. These would not at first allow Britomart
to enter, whereupon she grew very angry, and declared
she would either lodge with them in a friendly fashion,
or she would turn them all out of the shed, whether
they were willing or not, and then she challenged
them to come forth and fight.

The knights would now have been willing to let
her come in, but her boastful tone irritated them ;
one of them, Paridell by name, was especially annoyed,
and hastily mounting his steed he rode forth to fight
with her. Their spears met with such fury that both
man and horse were borne to the ground, and Paridell
was so sorely bruised that he could scarcely arise to
continue the combat on foot, with swords, as was then
the custom.

But his companion, Sir Satyrane (who was the
good Knight who had formerly befriended Una in
the forest), stepped forward to prevent Britomart and
Paridell from fighting further, and his wise speeches
soon soothed their anger. When peace was restored,
they agreed to join together to punish the unmannerly
churl, who had acted so ungraciously in refusing them
shelter from the tempest, and they went towards the
gates to burn them down.

Malbecco, seeing that they were really resolved to

197
The Legend of Britomart

set fire to the building, ran frantically, and called to
them from the castle wall, beseeching them humbly to
have patience with him,,as being ignorant of his ser-
vants’ rudeness and inattention to strangers. The



knights were willing to accept his excuses, though they
did not believe them, and they did not refuse to enter.
They were brought into a beautiful bower, and

served with everything needful, though their host
198
The Castle of Ghul Malbecco

secretly scowled at them, and welcomed them more
through fear than charity. They took off their wet
garments, and undid their heavy armour, to dry them-
selves at the fire. Britomart, like the rest, was forced
to disarray herself. When she lifted her helmet, and
her golden locks fell like a cloud of light to the
ground, they were all amazed to find the valiant
stranger was a beautiful maiden. They stood gazing
at her, silent with astonishment, for eye had never
seen a fairer woman, but chiefly they marvelled at her
chivalry and noble daring. They longed to know who
she might be, yet no one questioned her, and every
one loved her on the spot.

Supper was then served, and when the meal was
over the Lady Hellenore, wife of Malbecco, invited
all the knights to tell their name and kindred, and
any deeds of arms they had done. They talked so
long about their various strange adventures, and the
daring feats and many dangers they had passed through,
that old Malbecco grew quite impatient. He took no
interest in conversation of this kind. At last, when
the night was half spent, he persuaded them to go
to rest; so they all retired to the rooms prepared for
them.

The next day, as soon as the sun shone in the sky,
Britomart rose up and set forth on her journey. Sir
Satyrane went with her, but Paridell pretended to have
been so much hurt by his fight with Britomart that
he must stay behind at the Castle till his wounds were
cured.

199
The Legend of Britomart

How Britomart walked through Fire

Britomart and Sir Satyrane had not long left the

— Castle of the churl Malbecco when they saw in front

_of them a huge Giant chasing a young man. Filled
with anger, Britomart immediately galloped to the
rescue, and Sir Satyrane followed close behind. Seeing
them approach, the Giant quickly resigned his prey,
and fled to:save himself. He ran so fast that neither
of them could overtake him, and presently he came
to a great forest, where he hid himself. It was not
Sir Satyrane he feared so much as Britomart, for some
instinct told him that his evil nature would be power
less to fight against any one so good.

Britomart and Sir Satyrane entered the wood, and
searched everywhere for the Giant, and, each going a
different. way, they soon got separated. Britomart
went deep into the forest, and at last came to a foun-
tain by which lay a Knight. He had tossed aside his
coat and mail, his helmet, his spear, and his shield,
and had flung himself face downwards on the grass.
At first, Britomart would not disturb him, for she
thought him asleep, but, while she stood still looking
at him, she presently heard him sob and sigh as if his
heart would break.

Filled with pity, Britomart begged him to say
what was the matter, as perhaps she might be able to
help him. The Knight, whose name was Scudamour,
did not think this at all likely, and would scarcely
speak, but, after some further gentle words from

200
Britomart alles through Fire

Britomart, he told her that he was in such deep sorrow
because the lady he loved had been seized by a wicked
enchanter called Busirane, and shut up in a horrible
dungeon, from which no living power could release
her. ‘The enchanter had done this because he wanted
to marry her himself, and when she refused, and declared
she would never forsake her own true Knight, he had
taken this cruel revenge.

Then Britomart bade him take courage, for she
would either deliver the Lady Amoretta from her
dungeon, or she would die with her.

“Ah, gentlest Knight alive,’ cried Scudamour,
‘how brave and good you are! But keep your happy
days and use them to better purpose. Let me die
that ought. One is enough to die.”

“Life is not lost by which is bought endless
renown,” said Britomart.

Thus she persuaded Sir Scudamour to rise and go
with her to see what success would befall him in this
fresh attempt. She gathered up his armour, which he
had flung away in despair, and helped him to put it
on, and she fetched his steed, which had wandered to
some distance.

Then they went forth together, and soon arrived
at the place where their venture was to be made.
There they dismounted, drew their weapons, and
boldly marched up to the Castle. Here they found
no gate to bar their passage, nor any warder, but in
the porch, which greatly terrified them, was a huge
flaming fire, mixed with smoke and sulphur, which
choked all the entrance, and forced them to go back.

201
The Legend: of Britomart

Britomart was dismayed at this, and did not know
what to do, for it seemed useless danger to attempt
to brave the fire, which prevented any one going near.
Turning back to Scudamour, she asked what course
he thought it would be safest to take, and how they
should get at their foe to fight him.

‘‘’This is the reason why I said to you at first the
quest was hopeless,” replied Scudamour, “for this fire
cannot be quenched either by strength or cunning, nor
can it be moved away, so mighty are the enchantments
that keep it here. What else is to be done but to
stop this useless labour, and leave me to my former
despair? ‘The Lady Amoretta must stay in her wicked
chains, and Scudamour die here with sorrowing.”

“No, indeed,” said Britomart, ‘“‘ for it would be a
shameful thing to abandon a noble enterprise at the
mere sight of peril, without even venturing. Rather
let us try the last chance than give up our purpose
out of fear.”

So saying, resolved to try her utmost, she threw her
shield in front of her face, and, holding the point of her
sword straight in front of her, she advanced to the fire.
The flames immediately gave way, and parted on either
side, so that she walked through without hindrance.

When Scudamour saw Britomart safe and un-
touched on the other side of the fire, he also tried. to
pass, and bade the flames make way for him; but the
fire would not obey his threatening command, and
only raged the more fiercely, forcing him to retire all
scorched and painfully burnt. Furious at his failure,
more even than at the pain of his burns, he flung him-

DOoe














“‘ber ample sbicld she threw before ber tace,
And ber swords point directing forward right
Assayld the flame; the which ettsoones gave place,
Bnd did it selfe divide with equall space.”
Peer


Britomart walks through Fire

self impatiently down on the grass, but Britomart had
now passed the first door and entered the Castle.

The first room she came to was splendid to see,
for it was all hung round with rich tapestry, woven
with gold and silk. Beautiful pictures, representing
well-known fables and stories, were worked in the
tapestry, and at the upper end of the room was a great
Image which the people of the house were accustomed
to worship. This image was made of massive gold,
and had wings that shone with all the colours of the
rainbow. It was blindfolded, and held in its hand a
bow and arrows, which it seemed to shoot at random;
some of the arrows were tipped with lead, some with
pure gold. A wounded dragon lay under its feet.

Britomart was so amazed at this wonderful figure,
that she kept gazing at it again and again, though its
brightness quite dazzled her. But, casting her eyes
round the room, to discover every secret of the place,
she saw written over the door these words :—

“Be bold.”

She read this over and over, but could not think
to what it could refer; but, whatever it might mean,
it did not in the least discourage her from following
out her first intention, so she went forward with bold
steps into the next room.

This second room was even fairer and richer than
the first one, for it was not hung round with tapestry,
but was all overlaid with pure gold carved into the
most curious and grotesque figures.

Britomart marvelled much to see all this wealth
205
The Legend of Britomart

and luxury, but, still more, that there was no trace of
living person—nothing but wasteful emptiness and
solemn silence over all the place; it seemed strange
that there was no one to possess such rich belongings,
nor to keep them carefully.

And as she looked about she saw how over that
door, too, was written “ Be bold, be bold;” and every-
where, “ Ge bold.” She meditated much over this,
but could not understand it. At last, at the upper
end of the room, she saw another iron door, on
which was written

“$e not too bold,”

but, though she bent all her wise mind to the subject,
she could not tell what it might mean.

Thus she waited there until evening, yet saw no
living creature appear. And now gloomy shadows
began to hide the world from mortal view and wrap
it in darkness. Britomart did not dare to take off
her tiring armour, nor to go to sleep, for fear of
secret danger, but she held herself in readiness, and:
saw that all her weapons were in good order.

What Britomart saw in the Enchanted Chamber

As darkness fell, Britomart heard the sound of a
shrill trumpet, the sign of an approaching battle or a
victory gained. This did not in the least daunt her
courage, but rather strengthened it, while she expected

each moment to see some foe appear.
206
The Prrchanced Chamber

Then arose a hideous storm of wind, with thunder
and lightning, and an earthquake as if it would shake
the foundations of the world. This was followed by
a horrible smell of smoke and sulphur, which filled
the whole place. Yet still the brave Princess was not
afraid, but remained steadfast.

Suddenly a whirlwind swept through the house,
banging every door, and bursting open the iron wicket.
Then stepped forth a grave-looking person, in costly
raiment, and bearing in his hand a branch of laurel.
Advancing to the middle of the room, he stood still,
as if he had something to say, and beckoned with his
hand to call for silence. After making various other
signs, as if he were explaining some play that was going |
on, he softly retired, and then his name could be seen
written on his robe in golden letters —“ Fase.”

Britomart, still standing, saw all this, and marvelled
what his strange intention could be.

Then through the iron wicket came a joyous band,
' minstrels and poets playing and singing the sweetest
music, and after them followed a number of strange
figures in curious disguise, marching all in order like
a procession.

The first was Fancy, like a lovely boy. His
garment was neither silk nor stuff, but painted plumes,
such as wild Indians deck themselves with. He
seemed as vain and light as these same plumes, for he
walked along as if he were dancing, bearing in his
hand a great fan, which he waved to and fro. At his
side marched Deszre. His dress was extravagant, and
his embroidered cap was all awry. He carried in his

207
The Legend of Britomart

two hands some sparks, which he kept so busily blow-
ing that they soon burst into flame.

Next after these came Dodd, in a faded cloak and
hood, with wide sleeves. He glanced sideways out of
his mistrustful eyes, and trod carefully; as if thorns
lay in his path; he supported his feeble steps with a
broken reed, which bent whenever he leant hard on it.
With Doudbé walked Danger, clothed in a ragged bear’s
skin, which made him more dreadful, though his own
face was grisly enough, and needed nothing to make it
more so. In one hand wasa net, in the other a rusty blade
—Mischief and Mischance. With the one he threatened
his foes, with the other he entrapped his friends.

After Danger walked ear ; he was all armed from
top to toe, yet even then did not think himself safe.
He was afraid of every shadow, and when he spied his
own arms glittering, or heard them clashing, he fled
fast away. His face was pale as ashes, and he kept his
eyes fixed on Danger, against whom he always bent a
brazen shield, which he held in his right hand.

Side by side with Fear marched //ofe, a handsome
maid, with a cheerful expression and lovely to see.
She was lightly arrayed in silken samite, and her fair
locks were woven up with gold. She always smiled, and
in her hand she held a little phial of dew, from which
she sprinkled favours on any one she chose. She showed
a great liking to many people, but true love to few.

After them, Dzssembling and Suspicion marched
together, though they were not in the least alike; for
Dissembling was gentle and mild, courteous to all,
and seemingly gracious, well adorned, and handsome,

208


























































































































































































































































“F£fter all these there marcbt a most faire Dame,
Led of two grysie Willains, th’ one Despight,
The other clepcd Cruclty by name,”

oO



The Enchanted Chamber

But all her good points were painted or stolen; her
deeds were forged, her words false. In her -hand she
always twined two clues of silk.

Suspicion was ugly, ill-favoured, and grim, for ever
looking askance under his sullen eyebrows. While Dis-
sembling constantly smiled at him, he scowled back at
her, showing his nature by his countenance. His rolling
eyes never rested in one place, but wandered all round,
for fear of hidden mischief; he held a screen of lattice-
work in front of his face, through which he kept peering.

Next him came Grief and Fury, fit companions —
Grief clad in sable, hanging his dull head, ae a
pair of pincers, with which he pinched people to the
heart; Fury all in rags, tossing in her right hand a
feeend Then followed Dzspleasure, looking heavy
and sullen, and Pleasure, cheerful, fresh, and full of
_ gladness. Displeasure had an angry wasp in a bottle,
and Pleasure a honey-laden bee.

After these six couples came a beautiful lady led
by two villains, Spzte and Cruelty. She looked pale
as death, and very ill, but in spite of this was most lovely
and graceful. Her feeble feet could scarcely carry her,
but the two wretches held her up, and kept urging her
forward.

Then the Tyrant of the Castle appeared—the
winged figure of Love, whom Britomart had already
seen in the first room as a golden image. He rode on
a ravenous lion, and had unbound his eyes, so that he
might gloat over the distress. of the lovely lady, which
seemed to please him greatly. He looked round him
with stern disdain, and, surveying his goodly company,

211
The Legend of Britomart

marshalled them in order. Then he shook the darts
that he carried in his right hand and clashed his rainbow-
coloured wings, so that every one was terrified.

Behind him came his three chief attendants, /e-
broach, Repentance, and Shame, and after them flocked
a rude, confused crowd, who owned him as master—
Strife and Anger, Care and Unthriftiness, Loss of
Time and Sorrow, fickle Change, false Desloyalty,
Rioting, Poverty, and, lastly, Death-wzth-infamy.

All these and many other evil followers passed in
disguise before Britomart, and, having thrice marched
round the enchanted chamber, returned to the inner
room whence they had come.

How Britomart rescued a Fair Lady from a
Wicked Enchanter

As soon as the strange procession had passed into
the inner room, the door shut tight, driven by the
same stormy blast with which it had first opened.
Then the brave maiden, who all this while had re-
mained hidden in shadow, came forth, and went to the
door to enter in, but found it fast locked. In vain
she thought to open it by strength when charms had
closed it, and, finding force of no avail, she determined
to use art, resolving not to leave that room till the
next day, when the same figures would again appear.

At last the morning dawned, calling men to their
daily work, and Britomart, fresh as the morning, came
out from her hiding-place. All that day she spent in
wandering and in gazing at the adornment of the

212
Britomart rescues a Fair Lady

chamber, till again the second evening spread her black
cloak over everything. Then at midnight the brazen
door flew open, and in went bold Britomart, as she
had made up her mind to do, afraid neither of idle
shows nor of false charms.

As soon as she entered, she cast her eyes round to
see what had become of all the persons she had seen
in the outside room the night before, but, lo! they
had all vanished. She saw no living mortal of that
strange company except the same hapless lady, whose
two hands were bound fast, and who had an iron
chain round her small waist, fastened to a brazen
pillar by which she stood.

In front of her sat the vile Enchanter, drawing in
blood strange characters of his art, to try to make
her love him. But who could love the cause of all
her trouble? He had already tried a thousand charms,
but a thousand charms could not alter the lady’s stead-

fast heart.

. As soon as the Enchanter saw Britomart, he hastily
overthrew his wicked books, not caring to lose his long
labour, and, drawing a knife out of his pocket, ran
fiercely at the lady, thinking, in his villainy, to kill
her. But Britomart, leaping lightly to him, withheld
his wicked’ hand, and overpowered him.

_ Then, turning the weapon from the one whom he
had first meant it, he struck at Britomart and wounded
her. The hurt was slight, but it so enraged the maiden
that she drew her sword, and smote fiercely at the
tyrant. He fell to the ground half dead, and the next
stroke would have slain him, had not the lady who

213
The Legend of Britomart

stood bound called to Britomart not to kill him. If
she did so, the prisoner’s pain would be without remedy,

























for no one but the Enchanter who had put the spell
on her could take it off again.

Then Britomart unwillingly stayed her hand, for she

grudged him his life, and longed to see him punished.
214
Britomart rescues a Fair Lady

‘Thou wicked man,” she said to him, “‘ whose huge
mischief and villainy merit death or.worse than death,
be sure that nothing shall save thee, unless thou im-
mediately restore the lady to health and to her former
condition. This do and live, or else thou shalt un-
doubtedly die.”

The Enchanter, glad to live, for he had expected
nothing but death, yielded willingly, and, rising, began
at once to look over the wicked book, in order to
reverse his charms. He read aloud many dreadful
things, so that Britomart’s heart was pierced with horror.
But all the time he read, she held her sword high
over him, in case he tried to do further mischief.

Presently the house began to quake, and all the
doors to rattle. Yet this did not dismay her nor
make her slacken her threatening hand. But, with
steadfast eye and stout courage, she waited to see what
would be the end. At last the mighty chain which
was wound round the lady’s waist fell down, and the
great brazen pillar broke into small pieces. Gradu-
ally her look of terrible suffering passed, and she be-
came restored to perfect health, as if she had never
been ill.

When she felt herself unbound, and quite well and
strong, she threw herself at the feet of Britomart.

“Ah, noble Knight!” she said, ‘‘ what recompense
can a wretched lady, freed from her woeful state, yield
you for your gracious deed? Your virtue shall bring
its own reward, even immortal praise and glory, which
I, your vassal, freed by your prowess, shall proclaim
throughout the world.”

= DALG
The Legend of Britomart

But Britomart, lifting her from the ground, said,
‘Gentle lady, this I ween is reward enough for many
more labours than I have done, that now I see you in
safety, and that I have been the means of your deliver-
ance. Henceforth, fair lady, take comfort, and put
away remembrance of your late trouble. Know, instead,
that your loving husband has endured no less grief for
your sake.”

Amoret, for that was the lady’s name, was. much
cheered to hear this mention of Sir Scudamour, for
she loved him best of all living people.

Then the noble champion laid her strong hand on
the Enchanter who had treated Amoret so cruelly, and,
with the great chain with which he had formerly kept
prisoner the hapless lady, she now bound himself, and
led him away captive.

Returning the way she came, Britomart was dis-
mayed to find that the goodly rooms which she had
lately seen so richly and royally adorned had utterly
vanished, and all their glory had decayed. Descending
to the perilous porch, she found also that the dreadful
flames, which had formerly so cruelly scorched all those
who tried to enter, were quenched like a burnt-out
torch. It was now much easier to pass out than it had
been to comein. ‘The Enchanter, who had framed this
fraud to compel the love of the fair lady, was- deeply
vexed to see his work all wasted.

But when Britomart arrived at the place where she
had left Sir Scudamour and her own trusty squire (her
old nurse, Glaucé), she found neither of them there.
At this she was sorely astonished, and, above all,

216
Strange Meetings on the Way

Amoret, who had looked forward to seeing her own
dear Knight, being deprived of this hope, was filled
with fresh alarm.

Sir Scudamour, poor man, had waited long in dread
for Britomart’s return, but not seeing her, nor any
sign of her success, his expectation turned to despair,
for he felt sure that the flames must have burnt her.
Therefore be took counsel with her old squire, who
mourned her loss no less deeply, and the two departed
in search of further aid.

What Strange Meetings befell on the Way

Leaving the Enchanter’s Castle behind them, Brito-
mart and Amoret started in search of Sir Scudamour
and Glaucé.

As they went, Amoret told Britomart the story of
how she came into the power of the wicked Busirane.
On the very day of her marriage to Sir Scudamour, at
the wedding feast, while all the guests were making
merry, Busirane found means to introduce the strange
procession which had so amazed Britomart in the en-
chanted chamber. Amoret was persuaded in sport to
join it, and was carried away quite unknown to any one.
Seven months she had been kept in cruel imprisonment,
because she would not consent to give up her own dear
husband and become the wife of the wicked Enchanter.
Now, at last, she was free, and when she discovered that
her deliverer was not after all a knight, but in reality
a beautiful maiden like herself, her heart overflowed

217
The Legend of Britomart

with love and gratitude, and she and Britomart speedily
became the best and dearest friends.

In the course of their journey they presently saw
two knights in armour coming to meet them, each with
what seemed at that distance a fair lady riding beside him.
But ladies they were not, although in face and out-
ward show they seemed so. Under a mask of beauty and
graciousness they hid vile treachery and falsehood, which
were not apparent to any but the wise and cautious.

One was the false Duessa, who had formerly beguiled
the Red Cross Knight and Sir Guyon. She had changed
her usual appearance, for she could put on as many
different shapes as a chameleon can new colours.

Her companion was, if possible, worse than herself.
Her name was Até, Mother of Strife, cause of all dis-
sension both among private men and in public affairs of
state. False Duessa, knowing that she was just the
most fitting person to aid her in mischief, had sum-
moned her from her dwelling under the earth, where
she wasted her wretched days and nights in darkness.
Her abode was close to the Kingdom of Evil, where
plagues and harms abound to punish those who do
wrong. It was a gloomy dell, far under ground, sur-
rounded with thorns and briars, so that no one could
easily get out; there were many ways to enter, but
none by which to leave when one was once in; for it
is harder to end discord than to begin it.

All the broken walls inside were hung with the
ragged memorials of past times, which showed the sad
effects of strife. There were rent robes and broken

sceptres, sacred things ruined, shivered spears, and shields
218
Strange Meetings on the Way

torn in twain, great cities ransacked, and strong castles
beaten down, nations led into captivity, and huge armies



slain—relics of all these ruins remained in the house of

Até. All the famous wars in history found a record
219
the Weeend on Britomare

here, as well as the feuds and quarrels of private persons
too many to mention.

Such was the house inside. Outside, the barren
ground was full of poisonous weeds, which Stvz/e her-
self had sown; they had grown great from small seeds
—the seeds of evil words and wrangling deeds, which,
when they come to ripeness, bring forth an infinite
increase of trouble and contention, often ending in
bloodshed and war. ‘These horrible seeds also served
Até for bread, and she had been fed upon them from
childhood, for she got her life from that which killed
other people. She was born of a race of demons, and
brought up by the Furies.

Strife was as ugly as she was nicked she could
speak nothing but falsehood, and she never heard
aright. She could not even walk straight, but stumbled
backwards and forwards; what one hand reached out
to take, the other pushed away, or what one hand
made, the other destroyed. Great riches, which had
taken many a day to collect, she often squandered
rapidly, dismaying their possessors; for all her study
and thought was how she might overthrow the things
done by Concord. So far did her malice surpass her
might that she tried to bring all the world’s fair peace
and harmony into confusion. Such was the odious -
creature that rode with Duessa.

The two knights who escorted them, Blandamour
and Paridell, were young and handsome, but both
equally foolish, fickle, and false. When they saw
Britomart and the lovely Lady Amoret approaching,
Blandamour jestingly tried to make his companion

220
Strange Meetings on the Way

attack Britomart, so that he might win Amoret for
himself. But Paridell remembered how he had already
fought with a knight bearing those arms and that
shield, outside the castle of the churl Malbecco, and
he had no desire to provoke a new fight.

«Very well,” said Blandamour; ‘I will challenge
him myself ;” and he rode straight at Britomart.

But he had soon cause to repent his rashness, for
Britomart received his advance with so rude a welcome
that he speedily left his saddle. Then she passed
quietly on, leaving him on the ground much hurt, an
example of his own folly, and as sad now as he had
formerly been merry, well warned to beware in future
with whom he dared to interfere.

~ Paridell ran to his aid and helped him to mount
again, and they marched on their way, Blandamour ~
trying as well as he could to hide the evil plight
he was in. Before long they saw two other knights
coming quickly to meet them, and Blandamour was
enraged to see that one was Sir Scudamour, whom he
hated mortally, both because of his worth, which made -
all men love him, and because he had won by right
the Lady Amoret. Blandamour was greatly vexed
that his bruises prevented his wreaking his old spite,
and he immediately spoke thus to Paridell :—

“Fair sir, let me beg of you in the name of friend-
ship, that, as I lately ventured for you and got these
wounds, which now keep me from battle, you will now
repay me with a like good turn, and justify my cause
on yonder Knight.”

- Paridell willingly agreed, and sped at the stranger like
221
ihe beaend of Britomart

a shaft from a bow, but Sir Scudamour was on his guard,
and prepared himself to give him a fitting welcome.
So furiously they met that each hurled the other from
his horse, like two billows driven by contrary tides,
which meet together, and rebound back with roaring
rage, dashing on all sides and filling the sea with foam.
So fell these two, in spite of all their pride.

But Scudamour soon raised himself, and upbraided
his foe for lying there so long,

Blandamour, seeing the fall of Paridell, taunted
Sir Scudamour as a traitor, and heaped abuse on him,
saying that he only attacked knights who were too
weak to defend themselves.

Scudamour gave no answer to. this, trying to re-
strain his indignation; but then Duessa and Até
both chimed in, wickedly doing all they could to
rouse his passion.

They spoke jeering words, and said they wondered
Sir Scudamour should care to fight for any lady, for
Amoret was faithless, and had forgotten him and gone
off with another Knight.

This Knight, we know, was in reality the Princess
Britomart; but Sir Scudamour did not know: this.
He swore, in a fearful rage, to be revenged; he
even threatened to kill the squire, Glaucé, who was
still with him, since he could not get hold of his
master. In vain the poor old nurse tried to appease
him, for she dared not disclose Britomart’s secret.
Three times Sir Scudamour lifted his hand to kill
Glaucé, and three times he drew back, before at last
he became a little pacified.

212,2)
A Great Tournament

How Sir Satyrane proclaimed a Great Tournament

The fickle and quarrelsome couple, Blandamour and
Paridell, having been defeated by Britomart and Sir
Scudamour, next fell in with a party of two knights and
two masked ladies. They sent their squire to find out
who these were, and he brought back word that they
were two doughty knights of dreaded name, Cambell
and ‘Triamond, and the two ladies were their wives,
Cambina and Candace. All four were very famous
people, and the dearest friends possible: They had
had many wonderful adventures of their own, about
which perhaps you will read some day.

Blandamour, in his usual vainglorious spirit, would
gladly have tested his strength against the knights, but
he was still sore from the late unlucky fight with Brito-
mart. However, he went up to them, and began to
abuse and insult them, thinking in this way to win
_admiration from the ladies. Of course this enraged the
two knights, who were both bent on punishing Blanda-
mour for his base behaviour. But Cambina, wife of
Cambell, soothed them with her mild words, so, for
the present, they were reconciled.

‘The whole party rode on together, talking of daring
deeds and strange adventures, and, among other things,
of the great tournament to which they were then al]
bound

This tournament had been set on foot by Sir Saty-
rane, the same woodland knight who had formerly
befriended Una, and who had met Britomart at the

223
ihe Weeend oF Bricomant

castle of the churl Malbecco. Some time before,
ranging abroad in search of adventure, he had come to
the sea-coast, where he was horrified to find a vile
monster, something like a hyena, feeding on the dead
body of a milk-white palfrey. He knew the horse at
once as the one on which Florimell was accustomed
to ride, and, moreover, he found beside it her golden
girdle, This girdle had fallen from her in flight, for
Florimell had escaped in a small boat ; but Sir Satyrane
did not know this—he thought she had been killed by
the savage brute. Filled with fury, he fell on the
creature. He was unable to slay it, for it was protected
by the magic spells of its mistress, a wicked witch;
but he led it away captive for the time, though it
afterwards escaped.

The golden girdle which Sir Satyrane found he
kept as a sacred treasure, and wore for the sake of
Florimell. But when she herself was lost and gone,
many knights who also loved her dearly were jealous
that Sir Satyrane alone should wear the ornament of
the lost lady, and began to bear much spite against
him. Therefore, to stop their envy, he caused a solemn
feast, with public tourneying, to be proclaimed, to
which every knight was to bring his lady. She who
was found fairest of them all was to have the golden
girdle as a reward, and she was to bestow it on the
stoutest knight.

Now it happened after the flight of Florimell, that
the wicked witch from whom she had escaped made
up another person to represent her, in order to deceive
people. This imitation maiden was most beautiful to

224.


“he sett upon her Palfrey, tired Tame,
Hnd slew bim cruelly eve any reskew came.”



A Great Tournament

see. The substance of which her body was made was
purest snow frozen in a mass, and mixed with virgin
wax, tinted with vermilion; her eyes shone like stars,
her hair was yellow gold. Any one who saw her would
surely say it was Florimell herself, or even fairer than
Florimell, if such a thing could be.

But this false Florimell had a wicked and deceitful
spirit, full of fawning guile, and she excelled in all
manner of wily cunning.

In the course of her wandering, this creature, who
was known by the name of the “Snowy Lady,’’ came
across Braggadochio, whom you may remember as
the cowardly boaster that stole Sir Guyon’s horse and
armour. But as she rode along with Braggadochio the
latter was attacked and beaten by another knight, who
thought the lady was the real Florimell. He in turn
was vanquished by Blandamour, who also imagined that
she was the true Florimell, and was very proud of him-
self for getting possession of such a paragon. Though
he was so false himself, and had deceived hundreds of
others, he was no match for the ‘Snowy Lady” in cun-
ning, and was completely taken in by her.

When Biandamour heard of the great tournament
held by Sir Satyrane in honour of Florimell’s golden
girdle, he immediately determined to go there and
claim the prize on behalf of its rightful owner, whom
he then believed to be under his protection. Thus it
came to pass that the false’ Florimell journeyed with
Blandamour and the others to the tournament.

Not long after Cambell and Triamond, with their
wives, Cambina and Candace, had joined the party,

227
The Legend of Britomart

they saw a man in bright armour, with spear in rest,
riding towards them as though he meant to attack —
them. Paridell immediately prepared his own weapons,
whereupon the other slackened his pace, and seemed
to alter his intention, as if he meant nothing but peace
and pleasure now that he had fallen by chance into
their fellowship. Seeing this, they greeted him civilly,
and he rode on with them.

This man was Braggadochio. When his eyes fell
on the false Florimell, he remembered her as the lady
who had been taken from him not long before. He
therefore began to challenge her as his own prize, and
threatened to seize her again by force.

Blandamour treated his words with much disdain,
saying, “Sir Knight, since you claim this lady, you
shall win her, as I have done, in fight. She shall be
placed here, together with this hideous old hag, Até
(.St¢rzfe), that whoso wins her may have her by right.
But Até shall go to the one that is beaten, and he
shall always ride with her till he gets another lady.”

That offer pleased all the company, so the false
Florimell was brought forward with Ate, at which every
one began to laugh merrily. But Braggadochio now
tried to back out of his challenge. He said he never
thought to imperil his person in fight for a hideous old
creature like that. If they had sought to match the lady
with another one equally fair and radiant, he would then
have spent his life to justify his right.

At this vain excuse they all began to smile, scorning
his unmanly cowardice. The Snowy Lady reviled him
loudly for refusing to venture battle for her sake when

228
The Tournament

it was offered in such knightly fashion, and Ate secretly
taunted him with the shame of such contempt. But
nothing did he care for friend or foe, for in the base
mind dwells neither friendship nor enmity.

But Cambell jestingly stopped them all, saying,
“Brave knights and ladies, certainly you do wrong to
stir up strife when most we need rest, so that we may
keep ourselves fresh and strong against the coming
tournament, when every one who wishes to fight may
fight his fill. Postpone your challenge till that day,
and then it shall be tried, if you will, which one shall
have Até and which one still hold the lady.”

They all agreed, and so, turning everything to sport
and pleasantness, they passed merrily on their way, till

‘at length, on the appointed day, they came to the place -
where the tournament was to be held.

What befell on the First and Second Days of the

Tournament

On arriving at the scene of the tournament, the
little company divided, Blandamour and those of his
party going to one side and the rest to the other side ;
but boastful Braggadochio, from vain-glory, chose
rather to leave his companions, so that men might gaze
more on him alone. The rest disposed themselves in
groups, as seemed best to each one, every knight with
his own lady.

Then, first of all, came forth Sir Satyrane, bearing
the precious relic in a golden casket, so that no evil

229
ihe Verena: of Bitomare

eyes should profane it. Then softly drawing it out of
the dark, he showed it openly, so that all men might
mark it—a gorgeous girdle of marvellous workman-
ship, curiously embossed with pearls and precious stones
of great value. It was the same girdle which Flori-
mell had lately lost. Sir Satyrane hung it aloft in
open view, to be the prize of might and beauty. The
moment it was uncovered, the glorious sight attracted
every one’s gaze and stole the hearts of all who looked
on it, so that they uttered vain vows and wishes.
Thrice happy, it seemed to them, would be the lady
and knight who gained such a splendid reward for
their peril and labour.

Then the bold Sir Satyrane took in his hand a
great spear, such as he was accustomed to wield, and,
advancing forward from all the other knights, set his
shield in place, showing that he was ready for the fray.
The warriors who fought on his side were called the
“Knights of Maidenhood.” They were the challen-
gers, and their aim was to keep the golden girdle in
their own possession.

Against him, from the other side, stepped out a
Pagan knight, well skilled in arms, and often tried in
battle. He was called ‘‘ Bruncheval the Bold.” These
two met together so furiously that neither could sus-
tain the other’s force, and both champions were felled
to the ground, where they lay senseless.

Seeing this, other knights rode quickly to their
aid, some fighting on one side and some on the other.
Only Braggadochio, when his turn came, showed no
desire to hasten to the help of his party, but stood

230
The Tournament

still as one who seemed doubtful or dismayed. Then
Triamond, angry to see him delay, sternly stepped
forward and caught away his spear, with which he so
sorely assailed one of the knights that he bore both



horse and rider to the ground. To avenge his fall
one knight after another pressed forward, but Tria-
mond vanquished them all, for no one seemed able to
withstand his power.
By this time Sir Satyrane had awakened from his
231
the Weeend= of Britomart

swoon. When he looked around and saw the merciless
havoc that Sir Triamond had wrought to the knights
of his party, his heart was almost broken with bitter-
ness, and he wished himself dead rather than in so bad
a plight. He began at once to gather up his scattered
weapons, and, as it happened, he found his steed ready.
Like a flash of fire from the anvil, he rode fiercely to
where Triamond was driving his foes before him, and,
aiming his spear at him, he pierced his side badly.
Triamond could scarcely keep from falling, but he
withdrew softly from the field as well as he could, so
that no one saw plainly what had happened.

Then the challengers—the Knights of Maidenhood
—began to range the field anew, and pride themselves
on victory, since no one dared to maintain battle against
them. By that time it was evening, which forced them
to refrain from fighting, and the trumpets sounded to
compel them to cease.

So Sir Satyrane was judged to be the best knight on
that first day.

The next morning the tournament began anew.
Satyrane, with his gallant band, was the first to appear,
but Sir Triamond was unable to prepare for battle, be-
cause of his wound. This grieved him much, and Cam-
bell, seeing this, and eager to win honour on his friend’s
behalf, took the shield and armour which were well
known to belong to Triamond, and without saying a
word to any one, put them on and went forth to fight.

There he found Satyrane lord of the field, triumph-
ing in great joy, for no one was able to stand against
him. Envious of his glory, and eager to avenge his

232
The Tournament

friend’s indignity, Cambell at once bent his spear against
him. After a furious battle, he overthrew Sir Satyrane ;
but, before he could seize his shield and weapons, which
were always the reward of the victor, a hundred knights
had pressed round him to rescue Satyrane, and in the
hope of taking Cambell prisoner. Undismayed, the
latter fought valiantly, but what could one do against
so many? At last he was taken captive.

When news of this was brought to Triamond, he
forgot his wound, and, instantly starting up, looked for
his armour. But he sought in vain, for it was not there
—-Cambell had taken it. Triamond therefore threw on
himself Cambell’s armour, and nimbly rushed forward
to take his chance. There he found the warrior band
leading away his friend—a sorry sight for him to see.

He thrust into the thickest of that knightly crowd,
and smote down all between till he came to where he
had seen Cambell, like a captive thrall, between two
other knights. Triamond attacked them so fiercely that
they were obliged to let their prisoner go, and then the
two friends, fighting together, scattered their foes in
alarm, as two greedy wolves might a flock of sheep.
They followed in pursuit till the sound of the trumpet
warned every one to rest.

Then all with one consent yielded the prize of this
second day to Triamond and Cambell as the two best
knights. But Triamond resigned it to Cambell, and
Cambell gave it back to Triamond, each trying to
advance the other’s deed of arms, and make his praise
preferred before his own.

So the judgment was deferred to another day.

233
The Legend of Britomart

How Britomart did Battle for the Golden Girdle

The last day of the tournament came, when all the
knights again assembled to show their feats of arms.
Many brave deeds were done that day, but Satyrane above
all the other warriors displayed his wondrous might ;
from first to last he remained fighting, and though some-
times for a little while fortune failed him, yet he always
managed to retrieve his honour, and with unwearied
power he kept the prize secure for his own party.

The field was strewn with shivered spears, and
broken swords, and scattered shields, showing how
severe the fight had been; there might be seen also
loose steeds running at random, whose luckless riders
had been overthrown, and squires hastening to help
their wounded masters. But still the Knights of
Maidenhood came off the best, till there entered on
the other side a stranger knight.

Whence he came no man could tell. He was in
a quaint disguise, hard to be discovered, for all his
armour was like a savage dress, decked with woody
moss, and his steed had trappings of oak-leaves, that
seemed fit for some savage mortal. Charging the
enemy, this stranger smote down knight after knight,
till every one began to shun the dreadful sight of him.
They all wondered greatly who he was and whence he
came, and began to ask each other his name; but when
they could not learn it anyhow, it seemed most suitable
to his wild disguise to term him the Savage Knight.

But, truly, his right name was otherwise. Though

234
Battle for the Golden Girdle

known to few, he was called Sir Artegall, the cham-
pion of /ustzce, the doughtiest and the mightiest Knight
then living.

Sir Satyrane and all his band were so dismayed by
his strength and valour that none of them dared remain
in the field, but were beaten and chased about all day
till the evening. Then, as the sun set, out of the
thickest rout rushed forth another strange knight, who
put the glory of the “Savage Knight” to shame—so
can nothing be accounted happy till the end.

This strange Knight charged his mighty spear at
Artegall in the midst of his pride, and smote him so
sorely on the visor that he fell back off his horse, and
had small desire to rise again. Cambell, seeing this,
ran at the stranger with all his might and main, but
was soon likewise to be seen lying on the field. Tria-
mond thereupon was inwardly full of wrath, and deter-
mined to avenge the shame done to his friend; but by
his friend he soon found himself lying, in no less need
of help. Blandamour had seen everything from begin-
ning to end, and when he beheld this he was sorely
displeased, and thought he would soon mend matters ;
but he fared no better than the rest before him.

Many others likewise ran at the Knight, but in like
manner they were all dismounted; and of a truth it
was no wonder. No power of man could stay the
force of that enchanted spear, for the stranger was no
other than the famous Britomart.

Thus the warrior Princess restored that day to the
Knights of Maidenhood the prize which was well-nigh
lost, and bore away the prize of prowess from them all.

235
The Legend of Britomart

Then the shrill trumpets began to bray loudly, and
bade them leave their labour and long toil for the joyous
feast and other gentle play, for now the precious golden
girdle was to be awarded to the most beautiful lady.

Through all ages it has been the custom that the
prize of Beauty has been joined with the praise of arms
and Chivalry. And there are special reasons for this,
for each relies much on the other; that Knight who
can best defend a fair. Lady from harm, is surely the
most fitting to serve her; and that Lady who is fairest
and who will never swerve from her faith, is the most
fitting to deserve his service.

. So after the proof of prowess well ended came
next the contest of the sovereign grace of beauty, in ~
which the girdle of Florimell should fall to her who
most excelled. Many wished to win it only from vanity,
and not for the wondrous virtues which some said it
possessed. For the girdle gave the gift of constant
and loyal love to all who wore it; but whosoever was
false and fickle could never keep it on, for it would
loosen itself, or else tear asunder. It was said to be of
magic origin, and Florimell, to whom it had been given
long ago, held it dear as her life. No wonder, then,
that so many ladies sought to win it, for she mae wore
it was accounted to be peerless.

The feast, therefore, being ended, the selected judges
went down into the late field of battle to decide this
doubtful case, for which all the ladies contended. But,
first, inquiry was made as to which of those knights who
had lately tourneyed had won the wager. Then it was
judged that Satyrane had done best on the first day, for

236


“be at bis entrance charg’d bis powretull spear
At Artegall, in middest of bis prypode,
Bnd therewith smote bim on bis umbriere
So sore, that tombling back, be downe did slyde,””



The Golden Girdle awarded

he ended last, having begun first; the second day was
adjudged to Triamond, because he saved the victor from
disaster, for Cambell was in all men’s sight the victor
till by mishap he fell into the hands of his foemen; the
third day’s prize was adjudged to the stranger knight,
whom they all termed the “Knight of the Ebony Spear,”
and it was given by good right to Britomart, for she
had vanquished the ‘Savage Knight,” who until then
was the victor, and appeared at the last unconquered ;
for the last is deemed best.

To Britomart, therefore, the fairest lady was ad-
judged as a companion.

But Artegall greatly grudged this, and was much
vexed that this stranger had forestalled him both of
honour and of the reward of victory. He could not
dispute what was decreed, but he inwardly brooded over
the disgrace, and awaited a fit time to be avenged.

This matter being settled and every one agreed, it
next followed to decide the Paragon of Beauty, and
yield to the fairest lady her due prize.

How the Golden Girdle was awarded to the False
Florimell

Then each Knight in turn began to claim the golden
girdle on behalf of his own lady. First, Cambell
brought to their view his fair wife, Cambina, covered
with a veil. The veil being withdrawn at once re-
vealed her surpassing loveliness, which stole all wavering
hearts. Next, Sir Triamond uncovered the face of his

239
ihe Weegend= of Britomeare

dear Candace, which shone with such beauty that the
eyes of all were dazzled as with » great light. After
her, Paridell produced his false Duessa. With her
forged beauty, Duessa entrapped the hearts of some
who considered her the fairest; and, after these, a
hundred more ladies appeared in turn, each one of
whom seemed to excel the others.

At last Britomart openly showed her lovely Amoret,
whose face uncovered seemed like the heavenly picture
of some bright angel. Then all who saw her thought
that Amoret would surely bear away the prize.

But Blandamour, who imagined that he had the
real, true Florimell, now displayed the Snowy Lady,
and the sight, once seen, dismayed all the rest.

For all who had seemed bright and fair before, now
appeared base and contemptible; compared with her,
they were only like stars in comparison with the sun.
Every one who saw her was ravished with wonder ;
they thought she could be no mortal, but must be
some celestial being. They were all glad to see Flori-
mell, yet thought Florimell was not so fair as this
lady. Like some base metal overlaid with gold, which
deceives those who see it, was this false image who
passed for the true Florimell. Thus do forged things
sometimes show the fairest.

Then, by the decision of all, the golden belt was
granted to her as to the fairest lady; and, bringing it
to her, they thought to place it round her waist, as
became her best. But this they could by no means do,
for every time they fastened the girdle, it grew loose
and fell away, as if there were some secret fault in her,

240
The Golden Girdle awarded

Again and again she put it round her waist, but again
and again it fell apart. All the people wondered at
the strange sight, and each one thought according to



wut « °
\ Ae. NPR

WN
Vat

his own fancy. But the Snowy Lady herself thought
it was some spiteful trick, and it filled her with wrath

and shame as a thing devised to bring disgrace on her.
241 Q
ihe Vevend of “Britomart

Then many other ladies likewise tried to put on the
girdle, but it would stay on none of them. As soon as
they thought it fast, immediately it was untied again.

Seeing this, a scornful knight began to jest and
sneer, saying it was a pity that, among so many beauti-
ful ladies, not one was found worthy to wear the girdle.
All the knights began to laugh and all the ladies to
frown, till at last the gentle Amoret also essayed to
prove the girdle’s power. She set it round her waist,
and immediately it fitted perfectly, with no difficulty
whatever.

The others were very envious, and the Snowy
Lady was greatly fretted. Snatching the belt angrily
from Amoret, she again tied it round her own body,
but none the more would it fit her.

Nevertheless, to her, as her due right, was the girdle
yielded, for every one thought she was the true Flori-
mell, to whom it really belonged. And now she had
to choose her companion knight. Then she adjudged
the prize to the “Knight of the Ebony Spear,” who
had won it in fight. But Britomart would not assent
to this, nor give up her own companion, Amoret, for
the sake of that strange lady, whose wondrous beauty
she esteemed less than the wisdom and goodness of
Amoret.

When the other knights saw Britomart refuse, they
were all very glad, for each hoped Florimell would
choose himself. But the judges said that after Brito-
mart she must next choose the second best, and that
was the “Savage Knight.” But Sir Artegall had
already left in displeasure because he had not won the

242
The Golden Girdle awarded

prize. Then she was offered Triamond, but Triamond
loved Candace, and no one else. Then Sir Satyrane
was adjudged to Florimell, and he was right glad to
gain so goodly an award; but Paridell and Blandamour
and many other knights were very angry, and wanted
to fight Sir Satyrane. The hideous old woman, Até,
with her wicked words, stirred them all up to demand
and challenge Florimell as their right, the recompense
which they deserved for their peril.

Amongst the rest, with boastful, vain pretence,
Braggadochio stepped forward and claimed her as
his thrall, having won her in battle long ago. He
called the Snowy Lady herself to witness this, and being
asked, she confessed that it was the case.

Thereupon all the other knights were more angry
than ever, and they were quite ready to prepare anew
for battle. But Sir Satyrane hit on a plan to appease
them. He suggested that the Lady herself should
choose which knight she preferred, and all the others
should abide by her choice. This they agreed to. So
Florimell was placed in the midst of them all, and every
knight hoped she would choose him. ‘Then, having
looked a long time at each one, as though she wished
to please them all, the Snowy Lady walked up to
Braggadochio, and the two went off together.

Britomart took no part in the struggle for Florimell,
for as soon as she saw that discord had arisen, she left
the place. Taking with her the lovely Amoret, who
was still looking for Sir Scudamour, Britomart rode off
on her first quest, to seek her beloved Knight, Sir Arte-
gall, whose image she had seen in the magic mirror,

243
the Legend of Britomant

Little did she know that he was the ‘‘ Savage Knight ”
with whom she had so lately fought, and who was even
now waiting to be revenged on her. Unlucky maid, to
seek her enemy! Unlucky maid to seek far and wide
for him whom, when he was nearest, she could not
discover because of his disguise !

How Sir Scudamour came to the House of Care

Thus Britomart, with much toil and grief, still
sought the Knight whom she had seen in the magic
mirror, and in all her sad misfortunes she found her
fellow-wanderer, Amoret, a great comfort. But the
gentle Scudamour, whose heart the malicious Até had
filled with jealous discontent, was bent on revenge—on
revenge against the blameless Princess. The wicked
tale told by Até pricked his jealous heart like a thorn,
and pierced his soul like a poisoned arrow. Nothing
that Glaucé could do or say would alter his feeling ; the
more she tried to excuse Britomart, the worse it fretted
and grieved him night and day, so that nothing but
dire revenge might abate his anger.

Thus as they travelled, night, gloomy with cloud
and storm and bitter showers, fell upon them before its
usual hour. This forced them to seek some shelter
where they might hide their heads in quiet rest. Not
far away, unfitting for any guest, they spied a little
cottage, like some poor man’s dwelling. It was placed
under a steep hillside, where the mouldering earth had
hollowed out the bank. A small brook of muddy water,

2.44
The House of Care

bad-smelling as a puddle, passed close to it, bordered
by a few crooked willows.

When Sir Scudamour and Glaucé came nearer, they
heard the sound of many iron hammers ceaselessly beat-
ing in turn, so that it seemed as though some black-
smith dwelt in that desert place. Entering, they found
the good man himself bent busily at work. He was a
wretched, worn creature, with hollow eyes and wasted
cheeks, as if he had been long pent in prison. His
face was black and grisly-looking, smeared with smoke
that nearly blinded his eyes. He had a ragged beard
and shagey hair, which he never cut nor kept in order.
His garment was rough and all torn to rags; he had
no better, nor cared for any better. His hands were
blistered and burnt from the cinders, all unwashed, with
long nails fit to rend the food on which he lived.

This creature was called Cave. He was a black-
smith by trade, who never ceased working, day or
night, but made iron wedges of small use. (These are
unquiet thoughts, that invade anxious minds.)

He kept six. servants hard at work, always standing
round the anvil with great huge hammers, who never
rested from battering stroke on stroke. All six were
strong men, but each was stronger than the one before,
so they went up, as it were, in steps. So likewise the
hammers which they bore succeeded, like bells, in due
order of greatness. The last servant far exceeded the
first in size; he was like some monstrous giant. So
dreadfully did he beat the anvil that it seemed as if he
would soon drive it to dust. So huge was his hammer,
and so great his energy, that it seemed as though he

245
ihe Heoend of Britemanc

could break and rend asunder a rock of diamond if he
cared to try.

Sir Scudamour greatly wondered at the manner of
' their work and weary labour, and having beheld it for
a long time, at last inquired the cause and end of it.
But all his questions were in vain, for they would not
stop from their work for anything, nor listen to what
he said. Even the gusty bellows blew fiercely, like the
north wind, so that no one could hear. ‘* Sadness”
moved them, and the bellows were “ Szghs.”

The warrior, seeing this, said no more, but lay
down to rest in his armour. To rest he lay down on
the floor—in olden days the best bed for adventurous
knights—and thought to have refreshed his weary
limbs. And the aged nurse, Glaucé, his faithful
squire, also laid her feeble joints down, for her age
and weakness much needed rest after so long and
tiring a journey.

There lay Sir Scudamour, long expecting the
moment when gentle sleep would close his weary
eyes, turning often from side to side, and often choos-
ing a new place where it seemed he might repose
better. And often in wrath he again rose from there,
and often in wrath lay down again. But wherever he
disposed himself, he could by no means obtain the
desired ease; every place seemed painful, and each
alteration useless.

And evermore when he thought to sleep, the sound
of the hammers jarred his nerves, and evermore when
he began to get drowsy, the noise of the bellows
disturbed his quiet rest. All night the dogs barked

24.6


“Wbereto approaching nigh they beard the sound
Of many pron bammers beating ranke.”’



The House of Care

and howled around the house, scenting the stranger-
guest; and now the crowing cock, and now the owl
shrieking loudly, fretted his very soul.

If by fortune a little drowsiness chanced to fall on
his heavy eyelids, immediately one of the villains rapped
him on the head with his iron mallet, so that he awoke
at once and started up quickly, as one afraid, or as if
one had suddenly called him. Thus he was often
roused, and then he lay musing on the unhappy cause
that had led him to the House of Care.

At last his weary spirit, too tired to resist further,
gave place to rest ; yet even now he was troubled with
bad dreams. Then the wicked creature, the master-
smith, took a pair of red-hot iron tongs and nipped
him in the side, so that his heart quite quaked at the
pain. Thereupon he started up to be avenged on the
person who had broken his quiet slumber, but looking
round about him he could see no one, yet the smart
remained, though the giver of it fled.

In such disquiet and heart-fretting pain, Sir Scuda-
mour passed all that long night, and now the day
began to peep over the earth, sprinkling the morning
grass with pearly dew. Then up he rose, like a heavy
lump of lead, and one could plainly read in his face,
as in a looking-glass, signs of the anguish he had gone
through.

He mounted his war-horse and set forth again on
his former journey, arid with him also went Glaucé,
the aged squire, ready to share whatever pain and
peril might be in store.

249
The Legend of Britomart

How the “Savage Knight” met the ‘‘ Knight
with the Ebony Spear ”

The day after Sir Scudamour left the House of
Care, as he rode sadly on his way, he unexpectedly saw
an armed Knight sitting in the shade on the edge of
a forest, while his steed grazed beside him. Directly
this Knight saw Scudamour, he mounted and rode
eagerly towards him, as if he intended mischief; but,
as soon as he saw the arms borne by him, he lowered
his spear and turned aside. Sir Scudamour wondered
at this, but the other said, ‘‘ Ah, gentle Scudamour,
I submit myself to your grace, and ask pardon
of you for having this day almost done you an
injury.”

Whereupon Scudamour replied, ‘‘Small harm is
it for any warrior to prove his spear, without malice,
on a venturous knight. But, sir, since you know my
name, pray tell me what is your own?”

‘Truly, you must excuse me from making known
my right name now, for the time has not yet come for
it,” was the reply; “ but call me the Savage Knight, as
others do.”

“Then tell me, Sir Savage Knight,” said Scuda-
mour, ‘‘do you dwell here, within the forest, which
would answer well with your array >—Or have you put
it on for some special occasion, as seems more likely,
as you shun known arms?”

‘“The other day a stranger Knight brought shame
and dishonour on me,” replied the Savage Knight. ‘J

250
the <“Savace Knight.

am waiting to revenge the disgrace whenever he shall
pass this way, by day or night.”

“Shame be his reward who purposes shame !”’ said
Scudamour. ‘‘But what is he by whom you were
shamed ? ”

“A stranger Knight, unknown by name, but known
by fame and by an ebony spear, with which he bore
down all who met him. He, in an open tourney lately
held, stole away from me the honour of the game,
and having felled me (already weary), reft me of the
fairest lady, whom he has ever since withheld.”

When Scudamour heard mention of the spear, he
knew right well it was Britomart, who also, as he
imagined, had taken Amoret from himself. Then
his jealous heart swelled with rage, and he said
sharply, “And that is not the first unknightly act
which that same knight has done to other noble
warriors, for he has lately stolen my lady from me,
for which he shall pay dearly before long; and if to
the vengeance decreed by you this hand can supply
any help or succour, it shall not fail whensoever you
need it.”

So they both agreed to wreak their wrath on Brito- °
mart.

While they thus talked together, lo! far away they
saw a Knight gently riding towards them. He was
attired in foreign armour and strange array, and when
he came near they saw plainly he was the same for
whom they waited.

Then said Scudamour, “Sir Savage Knight, let me
beg this, that since I was the first to be wronged, let

251
The Legend of Britomart

me be the first to requite it, and if I happen to fail,
you shall recover my right.”

This being yielded, Sir Scudamour prepared his
spear for battle, and ran fiercely against Britomart.
But she gave him so rude a welcome that she smote
both man and horse to the ground, from which they
were in no hurry to rise. The sight of his mischance
added fresh fuel to Artegall’s burning rage, and thrust-
ing forward his steel-headed lance at a venture, he rode
against Britomart; but his evil intention recoiled on
himself, for unawares he suddenly left his saddle, and
in great amazement found himself on the ground.

Starting up lightly, he snatched forth his deadly
blade, and assailed Britomart with such vigour that,
although she was mounted and he on foot, she was
forced to give ground. As they darted here and there,
it chanced in her wheeling round that one stroke fell
on her horse and wounded him so badly that Britomart
was forced to alight.

Now she could no longer use her enchanted spear.
Casting it from her, she betook herself to her sword
and shield, and fought so valiantly that even now she
was almost a match for Sir Artegall; but towards the
end, while his strength seemed to get greater, hers grew
less. At last, he raised his hand, and gathering all his
force, struck such a terrible blow that it seemed as if
nothing but death could be her fate.

The stroke fell on her helmet, and with its force
sheared off the visor, and from there glanced harmlessly
downwards, and did her no more injury.

With that, her angel face, unseen before, shone

; OTE)
dchie” ““Sayace Knight”

forth radiant as the dawn; and round about it her
yellow hair, loosed from its usual bands, appeared like
a golden border, cunningly framed in a goldsmith’s
forge. Yet goldsmith’s cunning never knew how to
fashion such subtle wire, so clear and shining ; for it
glistened like the golden sand which the bright water
of Pactolus throws forth on the shore around him.

As Sir Artegall again lifted up his hand, thinking
to work his utmost vengeance on her, his powerless
arm, benumbed with secret fear, shrunk back from his
revengeful purpose, and his cruel sword fell from his
slack fingers to the ground; as if the steel had sense
and felt some compassion that his hand lacked, or as
if both of them thought to do obedience to such divine
beauty. And Artegall himself, gazing long thereon,
at last fell humbly down upon his knee; and imagining
he saw some angelic being—for he did not know what
else it could be—he besought her to pardon his error,
which had done her such infinite wrong, while trembling
horror.seized him, and made every limb quake and his
brave heart quail.

Britomart, nevertheless, full of wrath for that last
stroke, kept her angry hand uplifted all the while; she
stood over him, with a stern look, threatening to strike,
unless he prevented her, and bidding him rise, or he
should surely die. But die or live, nothing would
make Sir Artegall stand up. He prayed more earnestly
that the warrior-maiden would either pardon him or do
with him as she chose, because of the great wrong he
had done her. :

When Scudamour saw this, where he stood not far

253
the swegend of -Britomart

away, he was wondrously dismayed, and, drawing near
and seeing plainly this peerless image of perfection, he



too was terrified, and did homage to Britomart as to
some celestial vision.

But Glaucé, seeing all that happened, knew well
how to put right their error. Glad at such a good
ending, and rejoiced to see Britomart safe after her

254.
How Britomart ended her Quest

long toil, she advanced, and saluted her with a hearty
greeting. Then she besought her, as she was dear to
her, to grant truce for awhile to these warriors, which
being yielded, they lifted their beavers and showed
themselves to her such as indeed they were.

How Britomart ended her Quest

When Britomart, with keen, observant eye, beheld
the beautiful face of Artegall, tempered with sternness,
strength, and majesty, her mind at once recalled it
as the same which in her father’s palace she had seen
long since in that enchanted mirror. Then her wrath-
ful courage began to falter, and her haughty spirit to
grow tame, so that she softly withdrew her uplifted
hand. Yet she tried again to raise it, as if feigning
the anger which was now cold; but always when she
saw his face, her hand fell down, and would no longer
hold the weapon against him. Then having tried in
vain to fight, she armed her tongue, and thought to
scold him. Nevertheless, her tongue would not obey
her will, but when she would have spoken against him,
brought forth mild speeches instead.

Sir Scudamour, glad at heart because he had found
all his jealous fears false, now exclaimed jestingly,
“Truly, Sir Artegall, I rejoice to see you bow so low,
and that you have lived to become a lady’s thrall, who
formerly were wont to despise them!”

When Britomart heard the name of Artegall, her
heart leaped and trembled with sudden joy and secret

2
The Legend of Britomart
fear. She flushed deeply, and thought to hide her

agitation by again feigning her former angry mood.

Then Glaucé began wisely to put all matters right.
First, she told both the knights not to marvel any
more at the strange part Fate had made Britomart
play; then she bade Sir Artegall not to lament because
he had been conquered by a woman, for love was the
crown of Knighthood; and, lastly, she entreated Brito-
mart to relent the severity of her anger, and, wiping
out the remembrance of all ill, to grant pardon to
Artegall, if he would fulfil the penance she would im-
pose on him. “For lovers’ happiness is reached by
the path of sorrow,” she added.

At this, Britomart blushed, but Sir Artegall smiled
to himself and rejoiced in his heart; yet he dared
not speak too suddenly of the love he bore her, for
her grave and modest face and royal bearing still
kept him in awe.

But Scudamour, whose heart hung all this while in
suspense between hope and fear, longing to hear some
glad and certain news of his Lady Amoret, now ad-
dressed Britomart. ‘‘Sir, may I ask of you tidings of
my love, my Amoret, since you freed her from her
long and woeful captivity? Tell me where you left
her, so that I may seek her, as is fitting.”

“Indeed, Sir Knight, what has become of her, or
if she has been stolen away, I cannot rightly tell you,”
replied Britomart. ‘‘From the time I freed her from
the Enchanter’s captivity, I have preserved her from
peril and fear, and always kept her from harm, nor
was there ever any one whom I loved more dearly; but

256
How Britomart ended her Quest

one day, as we travelled through a desert wild, both.
being weary, we alighted and sat down in the shadow,
where I fearlessly lay down to sleep. When I awoke,
I did not find Amoret where I had left her, but
thought she had wandered away or got lost. I called
her loudly, I sought her near and far, but nowhere
could find her, nor hear any tidings of her.”

When Scudamour heard this bad news his heart
was thrilled with fear, and he stood dazed and silent.
Glaucé tried to comfort him, bidding him not give
way to needless dread until he was certain what had
happened, ‘“‘for she may yet be safe, though she has
wandered away,” she said. “It is best to hope the
best, though afraid of the worst!”

But he took no heed of her cheerful words, till
Britomart said, “You have, indeed, great cause of
sorrow, sir; but take comfort, for by the light of
heaven I swear not to leave you, dead or living, till I
find your Lady, and be avenged on him who stole
her!”

With that he was contented.

So, peace being established amongst them all, they
took their horses and rode forward to some resting-
place, guided by Sir Artegall. Here a hearty welcome
greeted them, with daily feasting, both in bower and
hall, until their wounds were well healed, and their
weary limbs recovered after their late rough usage.

And all the time Sir Artegall and Britomart grew
more and more in love with each other, though Brito-
mart did all she could to hide her feeling. But so
winningly did Sir Artegall woo her that at last she was

267 R
Diag ILegemel of Britomart

obliged to listen to him, and to relent. She consented
to be his wife, and the marriage took place.

But their happiness was not yet complete. Sir
Artegall was all this while bound upon a hard adven-
ture, which had still to be fulfilled, and when a fitting time



came, he had to depart on his quest. Poor Britomart

would scarcely let him go, though he faithfully promised

to return directly he had achieved his task, which would

probably take him not longer than three months.

With that she had to be appeased for the present, how-
258
How Britomart ended her Quest

ever unhappy she really felt ; and early the next morning
Sir Artegall started. Britomart went with him for a
while on his journey. She could not bear to part from
him, but all the way kept trying to find excuses for
delay. Many a time she took leave, and then again
invented something to say, so unwilling was she to lose
his company. But at last she could find no further
excuse, so, with a sad heart, she left him and returned
to Scudamour, whom she had promised to aid in his
search for Amoret.

Sir Scudamour and Britomart went back to the
desert forest, where.the latter had lately lost Amoret.
They sought her there, and inquired everywhere for

tidings, yet found none.
But by what hapless fate or terrible misfortune the
Lady Amoret had been conveyed away is too long to
tell here. In another story may be read the adventures
that befell her after she parted from Britomart.

259


The Squire of Low Degree

The Giant with Flaming Eyes

B RITOMART, the Warrior Princess, having rescued

the fair lady Amoret from the wicked Enchanter,
then started forth with her to find her husband, the
good Knight Scudamour. Riding through a forest,
_ they alighted to rest, and here Britomart, overcome
with weariness, lay down to sleep.

Amoret, meanwhile, fearing nothing, roamed at
pleasure through the wood. Suddenly from behind,
some one rushed out, who snatched her up and bore her
away. ‘This was a huge, hideous savage, who killed and
ate all the beautiful maidens he could get hold of. He
carried Amoret fainting in his arms, right through the
forest, till he came to his dwelling, a horrible cave, far
from all people’s hearing. Into this he flung her, and
went off to see if he could secure any other victims.

Amoret was roused by her fall, but when she looked
260
The Giant with Flaming Eyes

about and found nothing around her but darkness and
horror, she almost fainted again, and did not know
whether she were above or under the ground. Then
she heard some one close by sighing and sobbing, and
found this was another beautiful lady whom the savage
had taken prisoner.

Amoret asked her who she was, and the lady told
her sad story.

She said her name was Emilia; she was the daughter
of a great lord, and everything went joyously with her
till she happened to fall in love with a gentle youth, a
Squire in her father’s household. He was gallant and
worthy enough for any lady to love, but he was not of
noble birth like herself, and her father refused to let
her marry him, and was angry with her for her folly.
Nothing, however, would make her alter her mind, and
rather than forsake her faithful Amyas she resolved to
leave friends and family, and fly with him. A meeting-
place in the wood was arranged, to which she came,
but there, instead of her gallant Squire, she found the
savage monster, who pounced on her like an eagle, and
carried her to his cave.

While Emilia and Amoret were talking of their
troubles, the hideous villain who was the cause of them
came rushing back, rolling away the stone which he
used to stop the entrance, in order that no one might
go out. Directly he entered, Amoret slipped past him,
and escaped from the cave with a loud scream of
horror. Fast she fled, but he followed as swiftly.
She did not feel the thorns and thickets prick her
tender feet; neither hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor

261
Whe Squire of Low, Degree

dale could stop her; she overleaped them all like a
deer, and made her way through the thickest brush-
wood. And whenever she looked back with anxious
eyes and saw the grisly monster approaching, she quick-
ened her pace, spurred on by fear.

Long she fled thus, and long he followed, and it
seemed as if there were no living aid for her on earth.
But it chanced that the glorious Huntress-Queen, Bel-
pheebe, with her companions the wood-nymphs, were
that day chasing the leopards and the bears in that
wild forest. A gentle squire, who was also one of
the party, got separated from the others, and he came
in sight of Amoret just as she was overtaken by the
savage, who carried her away under his arm, grinning,
and yelling with laughter.

The squire immediately attacked the savage, but
it was difficult to do him any harm, for the latter held
Amoret all the while as a shield, and the squire was
afraid of hurting her. But at last he did succeed in
wounding the wretch, who then flung Amoret rudely
on the ground, and flew at the squire so fiercely that
he forced him back.

In the midst of their battle, Belphoebe drew near.
The robber, seeing her approach with bow in hand
and arrows ready bent, would no longer stay to fight,
but fled away in ghastly fear, for he knew she was
the only one who could kill him. But fast as he flew,
Belphcebe kept pace with him, and before he reached
his den she sent forth an arrow with mighty force
which caught him in the very doorway and slew him.

Amoret and Emilia were now safe, and they lived

262
The Giant with Flaming Eyes

together in the wood for some time; but both were
very ill—Emilia from having been kept so long a
prisoner in the cave, where she was nearly starved, and
Amoret from the hurts she had received in the rough
handling of the savage.

One day it chanced that through this wood rode
Prince Arthur, and he came to the place where the
two ladies dwelt. He was greatly grieved to see the
sad state in which they were, especially Amoret, who
looked as if she could not live long. He immediately
drew forth some of that precious liquor which he
always kept about him, and which had the power of
healing all wounds. It was the same wonderful medicine
that he had long ago given to the Red Cross Knight,
when he rescued him from the dungeon of Giant
Pride. Prince Arthur sprinkled a few drops of this ‘on
Amoret’s wounds, and she soon recovered her strength.

When the ladies were well, Prince Arthur began
to ask what evil guide had brought them there, and
how their harms befell. They told him all that had
_ happened, and how they had been released from thral-
dom by the beautiful Belphoebe. Then the Prince said
he would restore them safely to their friends, and plac-
ing them both on his war-horse, he went beside them
himself on foot, to shield them from fear.

Thus, when they had passed out of the forest they
spied far away a little cottage, to which they came
before nightfall. But entering, they found no one
dwelling there, except one old woman who sat upon
the ground in tattered raiment, her dirty locks scattered
all about her, while she gnawed her nails with cruelty

26am
The Squire of Low Degree

and rage. She was a hideous creature to see, and no
less hateful by nature, for she was stuffed full with
rancour and spite, which often broke forth in streams
of poison, bitterness, and falsehood against all who held
to truth or virtue. Men called her name Slander.

It was Slander’s nature to abuse all goodness, and
continually to invent crimes of which to accuse guilt-
less people, so that she might steal away their fair
name. No knight was ever so bold, nor any lady so
good and loyal, but what Slander strove to defame them
falsely ; never thing was done so well but she would
blot it with blame, and deprive it of due praise. Her
words were not, as common words are meant, to express
the meaning of the mind, but they were sharp and
bitter to pierce the heart and grieve the soul; like the
stings of asps that kill with their bite, her spiteful
words pricked and wounded inwardly.

Such was the hag, unfit to receive these guests,
whom the greatest. Prince’s court would have been
glad to welcome; but their necessity bade them look for
no better entertainment. It was, besides, an age which
despised luxury. People were accustomed to hardness
and homely fare, which trained them to warlike dis-
cipline, and to endure carelessly any hard fortunes or
luckless mishaps which might befall them. |

All that evening, then, welcomed with cold. and
cheerless hunger, they spent together, and found no
fault, except that the hag scolded and railed at them for
lodging there without her consent. But they mildly
and patiently endured it all, regardless of the unjust
blame and bitter reviling of such a worthless creature.

264.


seearing a little Dwarfe before bis steed,
Whom after did a migbtic man pursew,

“A Squire came galloping, as be would flie,

bie,

a Dromedare on

Ryding upon

w?

and borrible of bew.

Of stature buge,



The Giant with Flaming Eyes

Directly it was daylight they prepared again for
their journey, and went forth, Amoret and Emilia as
before riding on the horse, and the Prince walking
beside them. As soon as they departed, wicked old
Slander followed, reviling them, and calling them bad
names. ‘The more they were vexed at this, the worse
she raged and railed; and even when they had passed
out of sight and hearing she did not stop her spiteful
speeches, but railed anew against the stones and trees,
until she had dulled the sting that grew in the end of
her tongue.

As the travellers went slowly on their way, they saw
galloping towards them, as if in flight, a Squire who
bore before him on his steed a little dwarf, shrieking
loudly for help. They were pursued by a mighty man,
riding on a dromedary, huge of stature, and horrible to
behold. From his terrible eyes came two fiery beams,
sharper than needles’ points, which had the power of
working deadly poison to all who looked on him with-
out good heed, and of secretly slaying his enemies,
All the way he raged at the Squire, and hurled threats
at him, but the latter fled so fast he could not over-
take him. Seeing the Prince in his bright armour, the
Squire called to him to pity him and rescue him from
his cruel foe.

Then Prince Arthur at once took down the two
ladies from his war-horse, and mounting in their
place came to the Squire. In another moment the
Giant was upon them. He aimed a furious blow at
the Squire, which would certainly have killed him, had
not the noble Prince defeated the stroke by thrusting

267
The Squire of Low Degree

forward, and meeting it on his own shield. It fell
with such force that it drove the shield aside, and
knocked both the Squire and the dwarf to the ground.
Then Prince Arthur, enraged, smote at the Pagan with
all his might and main, and killed him.

When the Squire saw his foe dead he was indeed
glad, but the dwarf howled aloud to see his lord slain,
and tore his hair, and scratched his face for grief.

Then the Prince began to inquire about everything
that had happened, and who he was whose eyes flamed
with fire. And all this the Squire then told him :—

“Ror his Friend’s Sake ”’

“This mighty man whom you have slain,” said the
Squire, ‘is the son of a huge giantess. By his strength
he gained rule to himself and led many nations into
thraldom, conquering them, however, not in battle,
by armies of men with waving banners, but by the
power of his malignant eyes, with which he killed all
who came within his control. Never before was he
vanquished, but always vanquished all with whom he
fought. Nor was there any man so strong but what
he bore him down, nor any woman so fair but he made
captive of her; for his chief desire was to make spoil
of strength and beauty, and utterly to destroy them.
Because of his wicked eyes, which cast flakes of fire
into the hearts of those who looked at him, he was
rightly called Corflambo.

“Fie has left one daughter who is named the fair

268
For his Friend’s Sake

Pceana, who seems outwardly as fair as living eye ever
yet saw; and if her virtue were as bright as her beauty,
she would be as fair as any one on earth. But she is
too much given to folly and pleasure, and is also too
fickle and too fanciful.

“‘Well,.as it happened, there was a gentle Squire
who loved a lady of noble birth; but because his low
rank forbade his hoping to marry so high, her friends
sagely counselled her against letting herself down to his
level. But Emilia would not break the*promise she
had given Amyas, for she loved him truly, and holding
firmly to her first intention, she resolved to marry him,
in spite of all her friends. They appointed, therefore,
a time and place of meeting, but when accordingly the
Squire repaired there, a sad misadventure happened. In-
stead of finding his fair Emilia, he was caught unawares
by Corflambo, who carried his wretched captive, dis-
mayed with despair, to his dungeon, where he remained
unaided, and unsought by any one.

“The Giant’s daughter came one day in glee to the
prison, to view the captives who lay in bondage there.
Among the rest she chanced to see this gallant youth,
the Squire of low degree. She took a great liking to
him, and she promised that if he would love her in
return he should have his liberty.

“ Amyas, though plighted to another lady to whom
he firmly meant to keep his faith, thought he had better
take any means of escape offered by fortune, and there-
fore pretended to like Poeana a very little, in order
to win her favour and get his liberty. But the Giant’s
daughter still kept him in captivity, fearing that if she

269
The Squire of Low Deorce

set him free he would leave at once and forget her.
Yet she showed him so much favour above the other
prisoners that he was allowed sometimes to walk about
her pleasure gardens, having always a keeper with him.
The keeper was this dwarf, her pet menial, to whom as
a special favour she commits the keys of all the prison
doors. He can, at his will, release those whom he
chooses, and those also whom he chooses he can reserve
for more severe punishment.

‘When tidings of this reached me, I was deeply
grieved because of the great love I bear to Amyas, and
I went to the Castle of Corflambo. There I concealed
myself for a long time, till one day the dwarf discovered
me, and told his mistress that her Squire of low degree
had secretly stolen out of prison ; for he mistook me for
Amyas, because no two people were ever more alike.

“T was taken and brought before the Giant’s
daughter, who being also beguiled by the likeness,
began to blame me for seeking to escape by flight from
one who loved me so dearly; and then she ordered me
again to prison. Glad of this, I did not contradict her,
nor make any resistance, but suffered that same dwarf
to drive me to the dungeon.

‘There I found my faithful friend in heavy plight
and sad perplexity, for which I was sorry, yet bent
myself to comfort him again with my company. But
this, I found, grieved him the more; for his only joy
in his distress, he said, was the thought that Emilia and
I were free. He loved Emilia well, as I could guess,
and yet he said his love for me was even greater.

‘But I reasoned with him and showed him how easy

270












“* This Gyant’s daughter came upon a dap
Unto the prison in ber joyous glee,
To view the thrals which there in bondage Tay.”







For his Friend’s Sake

it would be to manage a disguise because of our
likeness, so that either we could change places or his
freedom might be gained. He was most unwilling to
agree, and would not for anything consent that I, who
was free and out of danger, should wilfully be brought
into thraldom. Yet, over-ruled at last, he consented.

“The next day, at about the usual hour, the dwarf
called at the door of the dungeon for Amyas to come
directly to his lady’s bower. Instead of Amyas, I—
Placidas—came forth, and, undiscovered, went with him.
The fair Poeana received me with joy, and gave me an
affectionate greeting, thinking that Iwas Amyas. Not
having any former love of my own, I was quite willing
to accept her kindness and favour, as indeed it was ex-
pedient to do. I pretended to make excuses for my
former coldness, and promised to be more amiable in
future. All this I did, not for my own sake, but to
do good to my friend, for whose liberty alone I staked
love and life.

““Thenceforward I found more favour at Pceana’s
hand. She bade the dwarf who had charge of me
lighten my heavy chains and grant me more scope to
walk abroad. So, one day, as I played with him on the
flowery bank of a stream, finding no means of gaining
our freedom unless I could convey away the dwarf,
I lightly snatched him up and carried him off.

“He shrieked so loudly that at his cry the tyrant
himself came forth and pursued me. Nevertheless I
would not give up my prey, and hither by force I
have brought him.”

As Placidas spoke thus to Prince Arthur, the two

273 S
The Squire of Low Degree

ladies, still doubtful through fear, came near, wishing
to hear tidings of all that had happened.

Directly Emilia spied her captive lover’s friend,
young Placidas, she sprang towards him, and throwing
her arms round him, exclaimed, “ Does Amyas still
live?”

‘“‘ He lives,” said Placidas, ‘‘and loves his Emilia.”

‘Not more than I love him,” she cried. ‘“ But
what misfortune has kept him so long from me?”

Then Placidas told her how Amyas had been taken
captive. It filled her tender heart with pity to hear
of the misery in which he had lain so long, and she
eagerly begged Prince Arthur to set him free. This
the Prince readily consented to do, and well he per-
formed his work.

The Giant’s Daughter

Of all human affection the love of one friend
for another is surely the noblest and most unselfish;
and this true friendship Amyas and Placidas had
for each other — not even their affection for kindred
or fairest lady could shake their loyalty. For though
Poeana were as beautiful as the morning, yet Placidas,
for his friend’s sake, scorned her offered favours. His
only thought was what he could do to set Amyas free.

Now after Prince Arthur had promised to succour
the Squire who had lain so long in prison, he next
began to consider how best he could effect his purpose.
Taking up the dead body of the Giant, he firmly bound

2714








“ There did be find in ber delicious bower

The fair Pocana playing on a rote,”



The Giant’s Daughter

it on the dromedary, and made it so to ride as if it
were alive. ‘Then he took Placidas and placed him in
front of Corflambo, as if he were a captive; and he
made the dwarf (though very unwillingly) guide the
beast till they drew near the castle. When the watch-
man who kept continual guard saw them thus coming
home, he ran down, without doubt or fear, and un-
barred the gate, and the Prince following passed in
with the others.

There in her delicious bower he found the fair
Poeana playing on a rote, complaining of her cruel
lover, and singing all her sorrow in music. So sweet
and lovely she seemed that the Prince was half-en-
tranced, but wisely bethinking himself of what was
right, he caught her unawares and held her captive.

Then he took the dwarf and compelled him to open
the prison door, and to bring forth the thralls which
he kept there. Over a score of unknown knights and
squires were brought to him, all of whom he freed
from their bitter bondage, and restored to their former
liberty. Among the rest came the Squire of low degree,
all weak and wan. As soon as Emilia and Placidas
beheld him they both ran and embraced him, holding
him fast between them, and striving all they could to
comfort him.

The Giant’s daughter, seeing this, envied them both,
and bitterly railed at them, weeping with rage and
jealousy. But when they had been for some time to-
gether, talking over their adventures, although Poeana
had often seen Amyas and Placidas separately, she
began to doubt which was really the captive Squire

277
The Squire of Low Degree

whom she had loved so dearly; for they appeared
so alike in face and person that it was difficult to dis-
cover which was which. So also Prince Arthur was
amazed at their resemblance, and gazed long in wonder,
as did the other knights and squires who saw them.

Then they began to ransack the Giant’s castle, in
which they found great store of hoarded treasure, which
the tyrant had gathered by wicked means. Prince
Arthur took possession of this, and afterwards remained
a little while at the castle to rest himself, and refresh
the ladies Amoret and Emilia, after their weary toil.
To these also he gave part of the treasure.

To add to the rejoicing, he set free the captive
lady, the fair Poeana, and placed her in a chair of
state with the rest, to feast and frolic. But she would
show no gladness nor pleasant glee, for she was grieved
for the loss both of her father and of her lands and
money. But most of all she deeply grieved for the loss
of the gentle Squire Placidas, whom she now really
loved.

But Prince Arthur, with his accustomed grace,
charmed her to mild behaviour from the sullen rude-
ness which spoilt her. With gentle words and manner
he calmed her raging temper, and softened the bitter-
ness that gnawed at her heart and kept her from the
feast ; for although she was most fair to see, she spoilt
all her beauty by cruelty and pride. And in order to
end everything with friendly love—since love was the
cause of her grief—Prince Arthur wisely urged the
trusty Squire Placidas not to despise without better
trial the lady who loved him so dearly, but to accept

278
The Giant’s Daughter

her to be his wedded wife. Placidas was quite willing
to marry Poeana; so all their strife came to an end.

From that day forth they lived long together in
peace and happiness: no private quarrel nor spite of
enemies could shake the calm security of their position.
And she whom Nature had created so fair that she
could match the fairest of them all, and yet who had
cpoilt it by her own wayward folly, henceforth reformed
her ways, so that all men marvelled at the change, and
spoke in praise of her.

Thus having settled these friends, Amyas and
Placidas, in peace and rest (for Amyas, of course,
married his dear Emilia),. Prince Arthur again went on
his way; and with him went the Lady Amoret, for
she had still to find her husband, the good Knight

Scudamour.

279


The Adventures of Sir Artegall

“ The champion of true Justice, Artegall.”’

“Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and kind.”

The Sword of Justice and the Iron Man

Ow of the noblest heroes at the Court of the
Faerie Queene was Artegall, the champion of
Justice. After his marriage with Britomart, it may be
remembered, he started on a hard adventure, which led
him into much peril. This was to succour a distressed
lady whom a strong tyrant unjustly kept captive, with-
holding from her the heritage which she claimed.
The lady was called Irene (Peace), and the Tyrant,
Grantorto (Great Wrong). -
280
The Sword of Justice

When Irene came to the Faerie Queene to beg re-
dress, Queen Gloriana, whose delight it was to aid all
poor suppliants, chose Artegall to restore right to her,
because he seemed the best skilled in righteous learning.

Even from his cradle Artegall had been brought up
to justice; for one day when he was a little child play-
ing with his companions, he had been found by a great

and wonderful lady called Astrea, who, while she dwelt
_ here among earthly men, instructed them in the rules of
justice. Seeing that the boy was noble and fit for her
purpose, she persuaded him to go with her. She took
him far away to a lonely cave, in which she brought him
up, and taught him all the discipline of justice. She
taught him to weigh equally both right and wrong, and
where severity was needed to measure it out according
to the line of conscience. For want of mankind she
caused him to practise this teaching on wild beasts which
she found in the woods wrongfully oppressing others of
their own kind. Thus she trained him, and thus she
taught him to judge skilfully wrong and right till he
reached the years of manhood, so that even wild beasts
feared him, and men admired his over-ruling might.
Nor was there any living person who dared withstand
his behest, much less match him in fight. To make
him more dreaded, Astrea gave Artegall a wonderful
sword, called ‘‘Chrysaor,” which excelled all other
swords. It was made of most perfect metal, tempered
with adamant, all garnished with gold upon the blade,
whereby it took its name. It was no less powerful
than famous, for there was no substance so firm and
hard but it could pierce or cleave, nor any armour that

281
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

could guard off the SHORE for oe it lighted, it
cut completely through.

In course of time Astrea left this world, and went
to live among the stars, from which she had first come.
But she left behind her on earth her servant, an Iron
Man, who always attended on her to execute her judg-
ments, and she bade him go with Artegall and do what-
ever he was told. The man’sname was Talus; he was
made of iron mould, immovable, irresistible, unchang-
ing; he held in his hand an iron flail, with which he
threshed out falsehood and unfolded the truth.

Talus, therefore, went with Sir Artegall on this new
quest, to aid him, if he chanced to need aid, against
the cruel tyrant who oppressed the Lady Irene and kept
the crown from her. Nothing is more honourable to
a knight, nor better becomes brave chivalry, than to
defend the feeble in their right, and redress the wrongs
of those who go astray. So the heroes of old won their
greatest glory, and herein this noble Knight excelled,
who now went forth to dare great perils for the sake
of justice.

As Artegall and Talus went on their way they
chanced to meet the servant of Florimell, who told the
good news that his lady was safe and rel and engaged
to be married to her own true knight, Marinell. Sir
Artegall was very glad to hear this, and asked when the
wedding was to take place, for if he had time he would
like to be present to do honour to the occasion.

“The wedding will be within three days,” said the
man, ‘“‘at the Castle of the Strand; at which time, if
nothing hinders me, I shall be there to do her service,

282






..- “For want there of mankind,

Sbe caused bim to make experience
Upon wld beasts, which she in woods ofd find
With wrongfull powre oppressing otbers of their kind.”



The Sword of Justice

as 1am bound. . But in my way, a little beyond here,
dwells a cruel Saracen who keeps with strong hand
the passage of a bridge. He has killed there many
a knight- soo wherefore all men, out of fear, shun
the passage.”

‘“‘ What sort of person, and how far away, is he who
does such harm to travellers?” asked Artegall.

“*Ffe is a man of great defence, expert in battle
and in deeds of arms,” was the answer; ‘‘and he is
made much bolder by the wicked spells with which his
daughter supports him. He has got large estates and
goodly farms by oppression and extortion, with which
he still holds them. His crimes increase daily, for he
never lets any one pass that way over his Bridge, be he
rich or poor, without paying him toll-money. His
name is called Pollenté, because he is so strong and
powerful; he conquers every one, —some by his
strength, and some also he circumvents by cunning.
For it is his custom to fight on the bridge, which is
very narrow, but exceedingly long, and in this bridge
are fixed many trap-falls, through which, not noticing, °
the rider falls down. Underneath the bridge flows a
swift and dangerously deep river, into which falls
headlong, destitute of help, any one whom the Saracen
overthrows. But the tyrant himself, because of his
long practice, leaps forth into the flood, and there
assails his foe, confused by his sudden fall, so that
horse and man are both equally dismayed, and either
drowned or treacherously slain. Then Pollenté robs
them at will, and brings the spoil to his daughter, who
dwells hard by. She takes everything that comes, and

285
The Adventures of Sir Artegall
fills her wicked coffers, which she has heaped so high

by wrong-doing that she is richer than many a prince,
and has purchased all the country lying near with her
ill-gotten revenue. Her name is Munera.

‘‘She is very beautiful and richly attired; her hands
are made of gold, and her feet of silver. Many great
lords have wished to marry her, but she is so proud that
she despises them all.”

‘“‘Now by my life, and with Heaven to guide me,”
said Sir Artegall, “no other way will I take this day
but by that bridge where the Saracen abides; therefore
lead me thither.”

> The Adventure of the Saracen’s Bridge

Sir Artegall soon came to the place where he saw
the Saracen ready armed on the bridge, waiting for
spoil. When he and Talus drew near to cross it, an
ugly-looking rascal came to them to demand passage-
money, according to the custom of the law. ‘‘ Lo,
there are your wages!” said Sir Artegall, and smote
him so that he died.

When the Pagan saw this he grew very angry, and
at once prepared himself for battle ; nor was Sir Artegall
behind, so they both ran at each other with levelled
spears. Right in the middle, where they would have
‘met breast to breast, a trap was let down to make them
fall into the river. The wicked wretch leaped down,
knowing well that his foe would fall; but Sir Artegall
was on his guard, and also leaped before he fell.

286
The Saracen’s Bridge

Then both of them being in the stream they flew
at each other violently, the water in no way cooling
the heat of their temper but rather adding to it. But
there the Saracen, who was well used to fighting in the
water, had great ee and often almost overthrew
Sir Artegall. The charger, also, which he rode could
swim like a fish.

When Sir Artegall saw the odds against him, he
knew there was no way but to close hastily with his
foe, and driving strongly at Pollenté he gripped him
fast by his iron collar, and almost throttled him.
There they strove and struggled together, each trying
to drag the other from his horse, but nothing could
make Artegall slacken his grip. At length he forced
Pollenté to forsake his horse’s back, for fear of being
drowned, and to betake himself to his swimming.
There Pollenté had no advantage, for Artegall was
skilful in swimming, and dared venture in any depth
of water. So every knight exposed to peril should
be expert in swimming and able to make his way
through water.

For some time the end of the contest was doubtful,
for besides being skilled in that exercise, both were
well trained in arms and thoroughly tried. Arte-
gall, however, kept his breath and strength better, so
that his foe could no longer withstand him, nor bear
himself upright, but fled from the water to the land.
Artegall, with his bright sword, Chrysaor, pursued him
so closely that Pollenté had scarcely set foot on shore
before his head was cut off.

This done, Sir Artegall took his way to the castle

- 287
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

in which Munera dwelt, guarded by many defenders.
Artegall sought entrance, but was refused and defied



















with a torrent of evil abuse. He was also beaten with

‘stones flung down from the battlements, so that he was
288
The Saracen’s Bridge

forced to retire, and he bade his servant Talus invent
some way by which he could enter without danger.

Then Talus went to the castle gate, and let fly at
it with his iron flail, so that it sorely terrified all the
warders, and made those stoop who had borne them-
selves so proudly. He battered and banged on the
door, and thundered strokes so hideously that he shook
the very foundations of the building, and filled all the
house with fear and uproar.

At this noise the Lady Munera appeared on the
castle wall. When she saw the dangerous state in
which she stood, she feared she would soon be de-
stroyed, and began with fair words to entreat the Iron
Man below to cease his outrage; for neither the force
of the stones which they threw, nor the power of
charms which she wrought against him could make
him stop.

But when she saw him proceed, unmoved by pity
or by prayers, she tried to bribe him with a goodly re-
ward. She caused great sacks with countless riches to be
brought to the battlements, and poured over the castle
wall, so that she might gain some time, though dearly
bought, whilst he gathered up the gold.

Talus was not in the least moved or tempted by
this, but still continued his assault with the iron flail,
so that at length he rent down the door, and made a
way for his master. When Artegall entered, it was no
use for any one to try to withstand him. They all
fled ; their hearts failed them, and they hid in corners
here and there; and their wicked lady herself, half-
dead, hid interror. Fora long time no one could find

289 is
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

her, but Talus, who, like a bloodhound, could track out
secret things, at length found her where she lay hidden
under a heap of gold, and dragged her forth. Sir
Artegall himself pitied her sad plight, but he could not
change the course of justice. Like her father, Munera
had to be punished, in order to warn all mighty people
who possess great power that they must use it in the
right way, and not oppress the feeble. The Tyrant’s
daughter was thrown into the water, and the stream
washed her away.

Then Talus took all the ill-gotten gold and trea-
sure which her father had scraped together by hook and
crook, and burning it into ashes, poured it into the
river. Lastly, he pulled down the castle to its very
foundation, and broke up all the hewn stones, so that
there could be no hope of its being restored, nor
memory of it among any nation. All which Talus
having thoroughly performed, Sir Artegall reformed
the evil fashion and wicked customs of the bridge;
and this done, he returned to his former journey.

The Giant with the Scales

After travelling a long, weary way, Sir Artegall
and Talus came near the sea, and here one day they
saw before them an immense crowd of people, stretch-
ing out as far as the eye could reach. They were much
astonished at this great assembly, and therefore ap-
proached to ask what had brought them together.
There they beheld a mighty giant standing on a rock,

290:
The Giant with the Scales

and holding high in his hand a great pair of scales,
with which he boasted in his presumption that he



would accurately weigh the whole world, if he had

anything to match it in the other scale. He said he
291
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

would take up all the earth, and all the sea, divided
from each other; so would he also make one balance
of the fire, and one of air, without wind or weather ;
then he would balance heaven and hell together, and
all that was contained within them, and would not miss
a feather of their weight—any surplus of each that
remained over he would restore to its own part. For,
said he, they were all unequal, and had encroached on
each other’s share, like the sea which had worn the
earth, as the fire had done the air. So all the rest took
possession of each other’s parts, and thus countries
and nations had gone awry. All of which he under-
took to repair in the way they had anciently been
formed, and everything should be made equal. He
would throw down the mountains and make them
level with the plain; the towering rocks he would
thrust down into the deepest sea; he would suppress
tyrants, so that they should no longer rule; and all the
wealth of the rich men he would take away and give
to the poor.

_ All the silly ignorant folk flocked about the giant,
and clustered thick to hear his vain delusions, like
foolish flies round a jar of honey; for they hoped to
gain great benefits by him, and uncontrolled freedom.
When Artegall saw and heard how he misled the simple
people, he disdainfully drew near, and thus spoke to
him without fear :—

“You that presume to weigh the world anew, and
restore all things to an equality, it seems to me show
great wrong instead of right, and boast far more than
you are able to perform.” And then he went on to

292
The Giant with the Scales

rebuke the giant for his folly and presumption, and
showed him that if he could not understand nor
weigh properly even the things that he saw, how
much less could he attempt to balance unseen matters,
or call into account the works of the great Ruler of
the universe.

But the giant would not listen to reason, for he
had no real desire for the right, and he still tried to
continue his false and wicked teaching. Talus, there-
fore, seeing his mischievous ignorance, came up, and
toppled him over into the sea, where he fell with a
great splash and was drowned.

When the people who had long waited there saw
his sudden destruction, they began to gather in a tur-
bulent mob, and tried to stir up strife, because of the
loss of all their expectations. For they had hoped to
get great good, and wonderful riches, by the giant’s
new schemes, and resolving to revenge his death, they
rose in arms, and stood in order of battle.

When Artegall saw this lawless multitude advanc-
ing in hostile fashion, he was much troubled, and
did not know what to do; for he was loath to soil his
hands by killing such a rascally crew, and yet he feared
to retire, lest they should follow him with shame.
Therefore he sent Talus to them to inquire the cause
of their array, and to request a truce. But as soon as
they saw him coming they began to attack him with
their weapons, and rudely struck at him on every side ;
yet they could not in the least hurt or dismay him.
Then Talus lay about him with his flail and overthrew
them like a swarm of flies. Not one of them dared

293
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

come in his way, but they flew here and there, and hid
themselves out of his sight in holes and bushes. When
Talus saw that they all forsook the field and none of
the rascal rout were left, he returned to Sir Artegall,
and they went on together.

Borrowed Plumes, and the Fate of the Snowy Lady

After long storms and tempests the sun’s face again
shines forth joyfully, so when fortune has shown all ~
her spite some blissful hours at last must needs appear. .
So it was with the Lady Florimell. After escaping
from the cruel hyena that killed and devoured her
milk-white palfrey, she met with many troubles and
misfortunes; but they were all over now, and she was
happily betrothed to her own true Knight, Marinell.

The time and place of the bridal were blazed far
and wide, and solemn feasts and tournaments were
arranged, to which a countless throng of lords and ladies
resorted from all directions, nor was there any brave
knight absent. It would need the tongue of a herald
to tell the glory of the feast that day—the splendid
service, the brilliant variety of entertainments, the pomp
of the bridegroom, the richness of the bride’s array, the
crowd of noble ladies and gallant knights; the royal
banquets, and the general rejoicing. When all the
people had sufficiently feasted, they began to prepare
themselves for deeds of arms and contests of chivalry.

Then first of all rode forth Sir Marinell, and with
him six more knights, to challenge all on behalf of

294
Fate of the Snowy Lady

Florimell, and to maintain that she excelled all other
ladies. Against them came every one that cared to
joust, from every coast and country under the sun:
no one was debarred ; all had leave who chose. Many
brave deeds were done that day, and many a knight
unhorsed, but little was lost or won. All that day
the greatest praise redounded to Marinell. So also the
second day. At the end of the fighting the trumpets
proclaimed that Marinell was the best.

The third day came, which would test all the others,
and the warriors met together to finish the tournament.
Then Marinell again showed great valour, and flew
like a lion through the thickest of the press, so that
every one fled from the danger, and was amazed at his
might. But the greater the prowess, the greater the
peril; Marinell pressed so far into the ranks of the
enemy that they closed up behind him, so that he
could by no means make a way out. He was taken
prisoner, and bound with chains, and would have been
led away, forsaken of all, had not some succour over-
taken him in time. :

It happened that while Marinell was thus sorely
beset, Sir Artegall came into the tilt-yard, with Bragga-
dochio, whom he had lately met on the way with the
false Florimell, the “Snowy Lady.” When Artegall |
heard the bad fortune that had betided Marinell, he was
much excited at his undeserved disgrace. He immedi-
ately begged the bragegart with whom he was riding to
change shields with him, in order that he might be the
better concealed, and thus armed he went forth, and soon
overtook the knights who were leading Marinell away.

2915
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

There were a hundred of them altogether. Half of
them set upon Sir Artegall, and half stayed behind to
guard the prey. Artegall was not long in beating the
first fifty, and soon snatched the prisoner from the
other fifty. Then he quickly armed Marinell again,
and together they overcame all the rest of the knights,
and were left lords of the field. So Marinell was
rescued from his foes.

Having done this, Sir Artegall restored his shield
to Braggadochio, who all this while had remained in
the background. Then the trumpets sounded, and the
judges rose, and all the knights who had borne armour
that day came to the open hall to listen to whom the
honour of the prize should be adjudged.

There also in open sight came the fair Florimell
into the public hall, to give his guerdon to every knight,
and the best to him to whom the best should fall.
Then they loudly called for the stranger Knight, to
whom they should yield the garland, but he came not
forth; but instead of Sir Artegall came Braggadochio,
and showed his shield, which bore the device of the
sun, broadly blazoned on a golden field.

The sight filled them with gladness, so to him
they adjudged the prize of all that triumph. Then the
shrill trumpets thrice resounded the name of Bragga-
dochio, and thus courage lent a cloak to cowardice.
Then the beautiful Florimell came to Braggadochio,
and spoke graciously in praise of his gallantry, and gave
him a thousand thanks for so well defending her cause.

To this the boaster (which filled all knights with
utter contempt for him) made scornful answer that

296
Fate of the Snowy Lady

what he did that day he did, not for her, but for his
own lady’s sake, who excelled both her and every one
else; and he added further bragging and unseemly
speeches. His words much abashed the gentle lady,
and she turned aside, ashamed to hear what he said.

Then he brought forth his snowy Florimell, who
was standing near, in charge of Trompart, covered
with a veil from people’s gaze; and when they had
thoroughly eyed her they were stupefied with great
amazement, saying that it was surely Florimell, or if it
were not, then she surpassed Florimell herself. Such
feeble skill have the vulgar with respect to perfect
things !

Marinell, likewise, when he beheld, was exceedingly
amazed, not knowing what to think or to do. He
stood for a long time lost in astonishment, his eyes fixed
fast on the Snowy Maid, whom the more he looked
at, the more he thought was the true Florimell.

When Artegall, who stood all this while close
covered in the crowd, saw everything that passed, and
the boasting and ungrateful cheating of Braggadochio,
he could stand it no longer, but came forth, and
showed himself openly to every one, and said to the
boaster-——

‘‘Base wretch, thou hast defaced another’s worth
with thy lies and decked thyself with borrowed plumes;
when they are all restored, thou shalt be left in dis-
grace. That shield which thou bearest was indeed the
one which saved the day’s honour to Marinell; but
that was not the arm, nor thou the man who did that
service to Florimell. For proof, show forth thy sword,

297
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

and let it tell what strokes, what dreadful battle it stirred
up this day. Or show the wounds which befell you! —

“‘ But ¢hzs is the sword which wrought such havoc;
and this the arm which bore that shield; and these the
signs”? (he pointed to his wounds) “by which it is
apparent the glory was got. As for that lady which
he shows here,” he continued, turning to the others, “it
is not Florimell at all, but some worthless creature,
fit for such a mate, who has fallen into his hand by
misfortune ;”’ and for proof he bade them call the true
Florimell.

So the noble Lady was brought, adorned with honour
and all comely grace, blushing with modesty, so that the
roses mixed with the lilies in her lovely face, for she still
felt deep shame at the rude words which Braggadochio
had flung at her. And when the people saw her they
shouted aloud, and all showed signs of gladness.

Then Sir Artegall placed her by the Snowy Lady,
like a true saint beside some painted image, to make
trial of their beauty, and to see which should get the
honour. Straightway, as soon as they were both met
together, the enchanted damsel vanished into nothing.
Her body of snow melted as with heat, and nothing
remained of all her goodly appearance except the empty
girdle, which had been clasped round her waist.

When the people present beheld this, they were
struck with astonishment, and their hearts quailed with
horror, to see the thing which seemed so excellent stolen
away, so that no one understood what became of it.
Braggadochio himself was so daunted with despair that
he stood immovable, like a lifeless body.

298




%

$0 soone as both together met

enchaunted Dam3el vanisbt into nought,

‘ber snowy substance melted as with beat,

=way,

“ Streight

Th’

Me of that goodly bew remayned ought.”



The Good Horse Brigadore

But Artegall took up the golden belt, the only thing
left of all the spoil, which was not the Snowy Lady’s,
as many mistakenly believed, but Florimell’s own girdle,
reft from her when she fled from the vile monster; un-
buckling it, he presented it to Florimell, who fitted it
perfectly round her slender waist. The girdle possessed
the magic power of breaking or becoming unfastened
when it was put on by any unworthy person. Many
ladies had often tried to wear it, but it fitted no one till
it came into the hands of its rightful owner, Florimell.

How the Good Horse Brigadore knew his
own Master

While every one was busied about Florimell, and in
hearing the truth about Braggadochio, Sir Guyon, as it
befell, came forward from the thickest of the crowd
to claim his own good steed, which Braggadochio had
stolen long ago. Seizing the golden bit with one
hand, he drew his sword with the other, for he meant
to smite the thief heavily, and had he not been held
he would certainly have done so.

Then a great hurly-burly arose in the hall because
of that war-horse, for Braggadochio would not let him
pass, and Sir Guyon was quite resolved to have him, or
to put the matter to the proof over his dead body.
The uproar being perceived by Artegall, he drew near
to stay the tumult, and began to ask how the steed
had been taken away, whether extorted by might or
stolen by cunning.

301
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

Then Sir Guyon told him about the Knight and
the Lady, whom he and the Palmer. had found, and
to avenge whom he had gone on his quest against the
wicked enchantress, Acrasia. He described how, when
he had gone into the thicket to help the dying lady,
his horse had been purloined by craft, for which he
now challenged the thief to fight. But Braggadochio
would by no means consent to this, for he hated such
doings, and would. rather lose than make trial of his
right by an appeal to arms.

Sir Artegall, hearing this, might then have handed
over the horse to Sir Guyon, for according to knightly
custom there was no need to try one’s cause by the law
of arms, if a foe refused to meet one in the field. But
wishing to establish Guyon’s claim properly, he asked
him to describe any secret token borne by the horse.

“Tf that will satisfy you,” said Sir Guyon, ‘there
is within his mouth a black spot, shaped like a horse’s
shoe, for any one who cares to seek for it.”

In order to test this, some one took hold of the horse,
to look into his mouth; but the creature immediately
struck at him so savagely with his heels that he broke
his ribs to pieces. Another, who seemed to have a little
more sense, took him by the bright embroidered head-
stall, but the horse bit him so sharply on the shoulder
that he was quite disabled. Nor would he open his
mouth to a single person until Sir Guyon himself spoke
to him, and called him by his name, “ Brigadore.”

The instant the horse understood his voice he stood
stock-still, and allowed every one to see the secret mark;
and when his master called him by name he broke all

302












“Fnd out of court bim scourged openly;
So ougbt all faytours that true knighthood shame,
And armes dishonour with base villanic,
From all brave knights be banisht with defame,”

The Two Brothers

his fastenings with joy, and gleefully followed him,
frisking, and prancing, and bending his head in sub-
mission. ‘Thereupon Sir Artegall plainly saw to whom
he belonged, and said—

“Lo, there, Sir Guyon, take to yourself the steed,
arrayed as he is in his golden saddle, and let that worthless
fellow fare hence on foot, until he has gained a horse.”

But the vain braggart began to rate and revile Sir
Artegall for giving such an unjust judgment against
him. The Knight was so incensed at his insolence that
he was tempted to punish him, and thrice he laid his
hand on his sword toslay him. But Sir Guyon pacified
Sir Artegall, saying it would only dishonour him to
wreak his wrath on a churl like that. It would be
punishment enough that every one saw his disgrace.

Then Talus seized the boaster, and dragging him out
of the hall inflicted this punishment on him. First he
shaved off his beard ; then he took his shield, and turned
it upside down, and blotted out the device; and then he
broke his sword in two, and scattered all his armour.
After that he openly scourged him out of the court.

So should all traitors who shame true chivalry be
banished with infamy from among brave knights, for
their evil doings often bring disgrace on just merit.

The Adventure of the Two Brothers and the Coffer

When the wedding festivities of Marinell and Flori-
mell were over, Sir Artegall left the Castle of the
Strand, to follow his first quest; and the only person

395 g
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

who went with him to help him was his servant Talus,
the Iron Man.

As he passed along the sea-shore he chanced to come
where two comely squires were having an angry quarrel.
They were brothers, but were just now stirred up by
some matter of debate. Two good-looking damsels
stood beside them, trying by every means to soothe their
ire—now by fair words, but words did little good —now
by threats, but threats only made them angrier. Before
them stood a strong coffer, fast bound on every side with
iron bands, but seeming to have received.much injury
either by being wrecked upon the shore, or by being |
carried far from foreign lands. It appeared asif it were
for this coffer the squires were fighting ;. and though
the ladies kept interfering to prevent their furious en-
counter, yet they were firmly resolved to try their rights
by dint of sword. Thus they both stood ready to meet
in cruel combat when Sir Artegall, happily arriving,
stopped for awhile their greedy. bickering till he had
inquired the cause of their dispute. To whom the
elder made this answer :—_

“You must know, sir, we are two brothers, to whom
our father, Milesio by name, equally bequeathed his land,
two islands, which you see there before you, not far off
in the sea. Of these the one appears but like a little
mount, of small size, yet it was as great and wide, not
many years ago, as that other island, which is now so
much larger.

“But the course of time, which destroys every-
thing, and this devouring sea, which spares nothing, have
washed away the greater part of my land, and thrown

306
The Two Brothers

it up to my brother’s share, so his is increased but
mine is lessened. Before which time I loved, as it
happened, the maid over there, called Philtera the
Fair, with whom I should have received a goodly
dower, and to whom I was to have been married.

“ At that time my younger brother, Amidas, loved
the other damsel—Lucy—to whom but little dower was
allotted. Her virtue was the dowry that delighted—and
what better dowry can a lady possess? But now when
Philtera saw my lands decay, and my former livelihood °
fail, she left me, and went over to my brother, who, tak-
ing her from me, completely deserted his own love.

“Lucy, seeing herself forsaken, in despair flung
herself into the sea, thinking to take away her grief by
death. But see how her purpose was foiled! Whilst
beaten to and fro amidst the billows, hovering between
life and death, she chanced unawares to light upon this
coffer, which offered to her, in her danger, hope of life.

“« he wretched maiden, who had formerly desired
death, now that she had had a taste of it began to
repent that she had been so foolish, and caught hold
of the sea-beaten chest, which after long tossing in the
rough waves, at last rested on my island. Here J,
wandering by chance on the shore, espied her, and with
some difficulty helped to save her from the jaws of
death, which threatened to swallow her up. In recom-.
pense for this she then bestowed on me those goods
which fortune had given her, together with herself, a
free gift—both goodly portions, but herself the better
of the two.

“In this coffer which she brought with her we

SOF,
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

found great treasure, which we took as our own, and
so considered it. But this other damsel, Philtera,
my brother’s wife, pretends now that the treasure be-































longs to herself, that she transported the same by sea,

to bring it to her newly made husband, but suffered

shipwreck by the way. Whether it be so or not
308
The Two Brothers

I cannot say. But whether it indeed be so or not,
this I do say, that whatsoever good or ill Providence
or fortune throws to me, not purposely wronging any
one else, I hold as my own, and will so hold it still.
And though Amidas first won away my land, and then
my love (though now that matters little), yet he shall
not also make prey of my good luck, but I will defend
it as long as ever I can.”

Bracidas, the elder brother, having thus spoken,
the younger one followed on.

“It is quite true what my brother here has declared
to you about the land; but the dispute between us is
not for that, but for this treasure, thrown upon his
shore, which I can prove, as shall appear by trial, to
belong to this lady, to whom I am married. It is well
known by good marks and perfect witnesses, and there-
fore it ought to be rendered to her without denial.”

When they had thus ended, the Knight spoke :—

‘“‘ Truly it would be easy to reconcile your strife, if
you would submit it to some just man.”

“Unto yourself!” they both cried. ‘*‘ We give you
our word to abide the judgment you pronounce to us.”

““Then in token that you will accept my verdict,
let each lay down his sword under my foot,” said Sir
Artegall, ‘‘and then you shall hear my sentence.”

So each of them laid down his sword out of his hand.

Then Artegall spoke thus to the younger brother :—

“ Now tell me, Amidas, if you can, by what good
right do you withhold to-day that part of your brother’s
land which the sea has plucked away from ee, and.
laid on your share?”

Soo
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

“What other right,” quoth Amidas, “would you
deem valid, except that the sea laid it to my share?”

“Your right is good,” said Sir Artegall, “and so
[ judge it. That which the sea sent unto you should
be your own.”

Then, turning to the elder brother, he spoke thus :—

‘“Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be plain: your
brother’s treasure, which has strayed from him, being
well known to be the dowry of his wife—by what right
do you claim this to be your own?”

“What other right,” quoth Bracidas, “would you
deem valid, except that the sea has thrown it unto me?”

“Your right is good,” said Sir Artegall, “and
so I judge it. That which the sea sent unto you
should be your own; for equal things have equal
rights. What the mighty sea has once possessed and
quite plucked from its owner’s hands—whether by
the rage of the unresting waves, or tempest, or ship-
wreck—it may dispose of by its imperial might to
whomever it chooses, as a thing left at random. So
in the first place, Amidas, the land was declared to be
yours; and so, in like manner, Bracidas, the treasure
is yours by right.”

When Sir Artegall had thus pronounced sentence,
both Amidas and Philtera were displeased, but Bracidas
and Lucy were very glad, and immediately took posses-
sion of the treasure, in accordance with the judgment.

So their discord was appeased by this sentence,
and each one had his right ; and Sir Artegall, having
stopped their contention, went on his way.

310
Queen of the Amazons.

Radigund, Queen of the Amazons

As Sir Artegall travelled on his way he saw far off
“a crowd of many people, to whom he hastened, in
order to discover the cause of such a large assembly.
When he came near he saw a strange sight—a troop of
women clad in warlike fashion, with weapons in their
hands, as if ready to fight ; and in the midst of them he
_ saw a Knight, with both hands pinioned behind him, and
round about his neck a halter tight, ready prepared for
the gallows. His head was bare and his face covered,
so that it was not easy to distinguish him. He went
along with a heavy heart, grieved to the soul, and
groaning inwardly that he should die so base a death at
the hands of women. But they, like merciless tyrants,
rejoiced at his misery, and reviled him, and sorely re-
proached him with bitter taunts and terms of disgrace.
When Artegall, arriving at the place, asked what
cause had brought the man to destruction, the women
swarmed eagerly around him, meaning to lay their
cruel hands on him; and to do him some unexpected
mischief. But he was soon aware of their evil mind,
and drawing back defeated their intention. He was
ashamed to disgrace himself by fighting with women, so
he sent Talus to punish them for their rash folly. With
a few strokes of his iron flail the latter speedily dis-
persed their troop, and sent them home to tell a piteous
tale of their vain prowess turned to their own injury.
The wretched man doomed to death they left
behind them, glad to be quit of them. ‘Talus soon
Bat
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

set him at liberty, and released him from his horror at

Soe

aw

AWS



such a shameful death, unfitting a knight, which he
dreaded more than loss of life; and uncovering his
312
Queen of the Amazons

face, he brought him to his master, who then knew
him at once.

“Sir Terpin!” cried Artegall. ‘Hapless. man,
what are you doing here? Have you lost yourself and
your senses? Or have you, who can boast of subduing
men, yielded to the oppression of women? Or what
other deadly misfortune has fallen on you, that you
have run so foolishly far astray as to lead yourself to
your own destruction ?”

The man was so confused, partly with shame, partly
with dismay, that he stood lost in astonishment, and
could find little to say in excuse.

“You may justly term me hapless, who am brought
to this shame, and am to-day made the scorn of
knighthood,” was his only answer. ‘‘ But who can
escape Fate? ‘The work of Heaven’s will surpasses
human thought.”

“True,” said Sir Artegall, “but faulty men often

.attribute their own folly to Fate, and lay on Heaven
the guilt of their own crimes. But tell me, Sir Terpin
—and do not let your misery daunt you—how you fell
into this state.”

“Since you needs will know my shame,” said the
Knight, “and all the ill which has lately chanced to
me, I will briefly relate it, and do not turn my mis-
fortune to my blame.

“Being desirous, as all knights are, to try deeds of
arms through hard adventures, and to hunt after fame
and honour, I heard a report which flew far abroad
that a proud Amazon lately bade defiance to all brave
knights, and wrought them all the villainy her malice

ou
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

could devise, putting some to shame, and doing many
of them to death.

‘““The cause of her hate is for the sake of a Knight
called Bellodant the Bold, whom a short time ago
she liked greatly, and tried in every way to attract;
but finding nothing of any avail, her love turned
to hatred, and for his sake she vowed to do all the
ill she could to other knights,—which vow she now
fulfils.

“For all those knights whom by force or guile she
subdues she treats shamefully. First she despoils them
of their armour, and clothes them in women’s garments;
then with threats she compels them to work to earn
their food—to spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring.
She gives them nothing to eat but bread and water, or
some such feeble food, to disable them from attempt-
ing revenge.

‘“‘But if with manly disdain any of them withstand
her insolent commands, she causes them to be im-
mediately hanged on that gibbet over there, in which
condition I stood just now; for being conquered by
her in fight, and put to the base service of her band,
I chose rather to die than to live that shameful life,
unworthy of a knight.”

‘“* What is the name of that Amazon?” asked Arte-
gall. ‘And where, and how far hence does she live?”

“Her name is called Radigund,” replied Sir Terpin,
‘a princess of great power, and greater pride, Queen of
the Amazons, well tried in arms and sundry battles,
which she has achieved with great success, and which
have won her much glory and fame.”

314
Queen of the Amazons

“Now, by my faith,” said Sir Artegall, “I will not
rest till I have tested her power, and avenged the shame
that she shows to knights. Therefore, Sir Terpin,
throw from you those squalid clothes, the pattern of
despair, and go with me, that you may see and know
how Fortune will repair your ruined name and knight-
_ hood, whose praise she would tarnish.”

Sir Terpin joyfully threw off his iron fetters, and
eagerly prepared to guide the way to the dwelling of
the Amazon, which was not more than a mile or two
distant—a goodly and a mighty city, called after her
own name Radigone.

On their arrival they were immediately espied by
the watchman, who warned all the city of the appear-
ance of three warlike persons, of whom one seemed
like a Knight fully armed, and the other two likely to
prove dangerous. The people ran at once to put on
their armour, swarming in a cluster like bees, and before
long their Queen herself, looking half like a man, came
forth into the crowd, and began to set them in array.

And now the Knights, being arrived near, beat
upon the gates to enter in; threatening the porter, who
scorned them for being so few, to tear him to pieces
if they won the city. When Radigund heard them
her heart was torn with rage. She bade her people
to unbar the gates at once, and to make way for the
Knights with well-prepared weapons.

As soon as the gates were set open the Knights
pressed forward to make an entrance, but midway they
were met by a sharp shower of arrows, which stopped
them. Then all the mob attacked them savagely,

315)
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

heaping strokes so fast on every side, and with such a
hail of arrows, that the Knights could not withstand
them. But Radigund herself, when she espied Sir
Terpin freed from her cruel doom, was suddenly
seized with a fit of fury, and flying at him like a
lioness, smote him so fiercely that he fell to the
ground. Then she leaped to him, and placed her
foot on his neck.

When Sir Artegall saw the Knight’s peril, he sprang
at once to his rescue, and assailed Radigund with
such vigour that he drove her back. For a moment
she was stunned, but as soon as she collected her senses
she turned on Sir Artegall, half-mad with revengeful
anger and pride, for she had never suffered such a re-
buff. But before they could meet in fight her maidens
flocked round her so fast that they parted them, in
spite of their valour, and kept them far asunder. But
amongst the others the fight lasted till the evening.

And all the while the great Iron Man sorely vexed
the Amazons with his strange weapon, to which they
had never been accustomed in war. He chased and
outran them, and broke their bows, and spoilt their
shooting, so that not one of them all dared to go near
him. They scattered like sheep before a wolf, and fled
before him through all the fields and valleys.

But when the daylight grew dim with the shadows
of night, Radigund, with the sound of a trumpet,
caused her people to cease fighting, and gathering
them to the gate of the city, made them all enter,
and had the weak and wounded conveyed in, before
she would retreat herself.

316
Queen of the Amazons

When the field was thus empty and all things quiet,
Sir Artegall, weary with toil and travel, caused his pavilion
to be richly prepared in full view of the city gate. He
himself, together with Sir Terpin, rested here in safety
all that night; but Talus was accustomed, in times of
jeopardy, to keep a nightly watch for fear of treachery.

Radigund, full of heart-gnawing grief for the rebuke
she had met that day, could take no rest nor relief, but
tossed about in her mind in what way she could revenge
her disgrace. Then she resolved to try her fortune in
single fight herself, rather than see her people destroyed,
as she had seen that day.

She called to her a trusty maid, named Clarinda, whom.
she thought fittest for the business, and said to her—

“Go, damsel, quickly; get ready to do the message

which I shall tell you. Go you to the stranger Knight
who yesterday drove us to such distress; tell him that
to-morrow I will fight with him, end try in a fair field
which is the mightier.

“But these conditions you must propound to him
—that if I vanquish him he shall obey my law, and
ever be bound to do my bidding. And so will I, if he
vanquish me, whatever he shall like to do or say. Go
straight, and take with you as witness six of your com-
panions of the highest rank; and carry with you wine
and rich delicacies, and bid him.eat : henceforth he shall
often sit hungry.”

The damsel instantly obeyed, and putting all in
readiness went forth to the town gate, where, sounding
a trumpet loudly from the wall, she sent warning to the
warrior Knights. Then Talus, issuing from the tent,

Sy]
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

took his way fearlessly to the wall, to know what that
sounding of the trumpet meant, whereupon the damsel
called to him, and explained that she wished to parley
with his lord.

Then he conducted them at once to his master, who
gave them a cordial greeting, and to whom they told
their message, word for word. Sir Artegall, gladly
accepting it, entertained them with fitting courtesy, and
gave them rich and handsome gifts. So they turned their
steps homeward again, but Artegall went back to rest,
that he might be fresher against the next day’s fight.

How Sir Artegall threw away his Sword

As soon as day dawned, the noble warriors, mindful -
of the fight before them, duly prepared themselves, the
Knight as beseemed a knight, and the Amazon in the
way she liked best to dress.

She wore a light loose robe of purple silk, woven
with silver, quilted upon white satin, and plentifully ~
trimmed with ribbons; not to hinder her movements
it was tucked up to her knee, but could when she liked
be lowered to her heel. Over that she wore for defence
a small coat of mail. On her legs were painted buskins,
laced with bands of gold; her scimitar was lashed at her
thigh in an embroidered belt; and on her shoulder
hung her shield, decked with glittering stones, so that
it shone like the full moon.

Thus she came forth, stately and magnificent, from
the city gate, guarded with many damsels who waited

318
Sir Artegall threw away his Sword

on her to defend her, playing on shalms and trumpets,
the sound of which reached high into heaven; and so
she marched into the field, where there was a rich
pavilion ready prepared to receive her, until it was time
to begin the fight. :

Then forth from his tent came Artegall, armed
from head to foot, and first entered the lists. Radi-
gund soon followed, cruel of mind, and with a fierce
countenance, fully bent on daring the utmost trial of
battle. The lists were shut fast, to prevent the mob
from rudely pressing to the centre, and they circled
round in huge crowds to see how fortune would decide
the dangerous problem. mae

The trumpets sounded, and the fight began—bitterly
it began and ended. The Amazon flew at Sir Artegall
frantic with fury, but the more she raged the more
resolute he stood. She hewed, she thrust, she lashed,
she laid on every side. At first the Knight bore her
blows, and forbore to return them; but presently
in his turn he began to attack, and so mightily did
his strokes fall on her steel armour, that flakes of
flame were seen flashing all round her as if she had
been.on fire. But Radigund with her shield so well
warded off the danger of his keen weapon that she
safely guarded her life, until at last, with one stroke of
his blade, Sir Artegall cut away half her shield. _

This so enraged Radigund that she flew at Artegall
with her sharp scimitar, like a bear on her prey, and
wounded him badly in the thigh. Thereupon she began _
to boast of her triumph, and taunt the Knight with spite-
ful speeches, as if she had already got the prize.

ong
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

Indignant at her idle vaunting, Sir Artegall struck
at her again with such power that he shattered the other



half of her shield, and then he smote on her helmet so
that she sank senseless on the grassy field.
When he saw her lying on the ground, he sprang
towards her, and unlaced her helmet, thinking to cut
320
Sir Artegall threw away his Sword

off her head; but when he had uncovered her face
such a miracle of loveliness shone forth that he was
dazzled with astonishment. His heart was so pierced
with pity that he threw away his sharp sword, reviling his
hand that had done injury to such a vision of beauty.

Radigund meanwhile awakened from her swoon,
and stared about her in confusion. As soon as she saw
the Knight standing there beside her with no weapon
in his empty hands, she flew at him with fresh cruelty,
and though he kept retiring she laid on him huge re-
doubled strokes. The more he meekly entreated her
to stay her hand from greedy vengeance, the more she
increased her merciless attack.

Sir Artegall could do nothing but shun her angry
onslaught, and ward off with his shield alone, as well as
he could, the fierceness of her rage. He begged her to
stay her strokes, and said that he would yield himself ;
yet she would not hearken, nor give him time to breathe,
till he had delivered to her his shield, and submitted
himself to her mercy in the open field.

Thus was Sir Artegall overcome—though indeed
he was not overcome, but yielded of his own accord.
Yet was he justly doomed by his own judgment when
he had said unwarily that he would be her thrall
and do her service. For though he first gained the
victory, yet afterwards, by abandoning his sword, he
wilfully lost that which before he had attained.

Then Radigund struck him with the flat of her
sword, in token of true subjection to her power, and
as a vassal took him to thraldom. But the more
hapless Terpin she caused to be pinioned and led away

321 x
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

to the cruel fate from which he had but lately been
rescued.

But when the Amazons thought to lay hands on
Talus, he thundered amongst them with his iron flail,
so that they were glad to let him escape, for the heaps
of those he slew and wounded, besides the rest which
he dismayed, were too many to number. But all this
while he did not once attempt to rescue his own lord,
for he thought it just to obey.

Then Radigund took this noble Knight, left at
her disposal by his own wilful blame, and caused him
to be disarmed of all the knightly ornaments with
which he had formerly won great fame. In place
of these she had him shamefully dressed in woman’s
clothes, and put on him a white apron instead of a
cuirass.

Thus clad, she brought him from the battlefield
into a long, large chamber, decked with memorials of
the ruin of many knights whom she had subdued ;
amongst these she caused his armour to be hung on
high, to betray his shame, and she broke his sword for
fear of further harm.

Entering, he saw round about him many brave
knights whose names he knew well, who were there
bound to obey the Amazon’s arrogant law, all spinning
and carding in an orderly row, so that Sir Artegall’s
brave heart loathed the unseemly sight. But the
captive knights were forced through hunger and want
of food to do the work appointed them, for nothing
was given them to eat or drink, but what their hands
could earn by twisting linen twine.

322
The House of Guile

Radigund placed Sir Artegall the lowest among
them all, and gave a distaff into his hand, that he should
spin thereon flax and tow—a sordid office for so brave
a mind; thus hard is it to be the slave of a woman!

Yet Sir Artegall took it even in his own despite,
and obeyed her without murmuring, since he had
plighted his faith to become her vassal if she won
him in fight:

The House of Guile

Thus for a long while Sir Artegall continued
obediently serving proud Radigund, however much
it galled his noble heart to obey the dictates of a
tyrannous woman. Having chosen his lot, he could
not now change.

As the days went by, the Amazon Queen began to
have a great liking for her strange captive, but for a
long time she kept this carefully concealed, for her
pride would not allow her to own to such a feeling
for her lowly vassal. At last, when she could bear it
no longer, she sent for her trusted maid, Clarinda,
and told her to devise some means by which to dis-
cover whether there were any chance of Sir Artegall’s
loving her, if she gave him his liberty. Clarinda
promised to do her best, and tried by all the means
in her power to win favour with the Knight, but the
more she saw of him the better she liked him herself,
so she ended by being false both to her mistress and
to Sir Artegall. To the Queen she pretended that Sir

B28
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

Artegall was very stern and obstinate, and scorned all
her offers of kindness and gentler treatment ; and to
the Knight she declared that she had earnestly besought
Radigund to grant him freedom, but the Queen would
by no means be persuaded, and had ordered instead
that he should be more harshly treated and laden with
iron chains. This command, however, Clarinda said
she would not carry out, because of her own regard
for the Knight, and she further promised that if she
found favour in his sight she would devise some means
of setting him free

Sir Artegall, glad to gain his liberty, answered
her civilly, but determined in his heart that nothing
should make him forsake his own true love, Britomart ;
and deceitful Clarinda had not the least intention
of freeing him from bondage, but considered rather
how she might keep him more securely. Therefore
every day she unkindly told her mistress that the
Knight spurned her offers of goodwill, and Sir Arte-
gall she told that the Queen refused him his freedom.
Yet in order to win his affection, she showed him
this much friendship, that his scanty fare was improved,
and his work lessened.

Thus for a long while Sir Artegall remained there
in thraldom.

Britomart, meanwhile, waited and longed for news
of her absent lord, and when the utmost date assigned
for his return had passed, a thousand fears assailed her
doubting mind. Sometimes she feared lest a terrible
misfortune had befallen him; sometimes lest his false
foe had entrapped him in a snare; at other times a

324
The House of Guile

jealous fear troubled her that perhaps Sir Artegall had
forgotten her, and found some other lady whom he
loved better. Yet she was loath to think so ill of him
as this. One moment she blamed herself; another,
condemned him as faithless and untrue; then, trying to
cheat her grief, she pretended she had reckoned the time
wrong, and began to count it all over a different way.

When months went on, and still he never came
back, she thought of sending some one to seek him, but
could find no one so fitting to do this as her own self.

One day, unable to rest quietly in any place, she
came to a window opening to the west, which was the
way Sir Artegall had gone. There, looking forth, she
felt many vain fancies disquiet her, and sent her winged
thoughts swifter than wind to carry her heart’s message
to her love. As she looked long, she spied some one
coming hastily towards her. Then she knew well
before she saw him plainly, that it was some one sent
from Sir Artegall; and as he drew near, she found it
was his servant, Talus. Filled with hope and dread
she ran to meet him, exclaiming —

“ And where is he, thy lord, and how far hence?
Tell me at once. And has he lost or won?”

Then Talus told the whole story of Sir Artegall’s
captivity.

- Britomart listened bravely to the end, and then a
sudden fit of wrath and grief seized her. Without
waiting to make any answer, she got ready at once,
donned her armour, and mounting her steed, bade
Talus guide her on.

So she rode forth to seek her Knight; sadly she
S325)
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

rode, speaking no word good or bad, and looking
neither to the right or left. Her heart burned with



rage to punish the pride of that woman who had pent
her lord in a base prison, and had tarnished his great
honour with such infamous disgrace.

326
The House of Guile

Thus riding, she chanced to meet towards evening
a knight strolling on the plain as if to refresh himself.
He seemed well on in years, and inclined rather to
peace than to needless trouble, his raiment and his
modest bearing both showing that he meant no evil.
Coming near, he began to salute Britomart in the most
courteous fashion. ‘Though the Princess would rather
have remained mute than joined in commonplace con-
versation, yet sooner than despise such kindness she
set her own wishes aside, and so returned his greeting
in due form. Then the other began to chat further —
about things in general, and asked many questions, to
which she gave ‘careless answer. For she had little de-
sire to talk about anything, or to hear about anything,
however delightful; her mind was wholly possessed by
one thought, and there was no place for any other.

When the stranger observed this, he no longer forced
her to talk unwillingly, but begged her to favour him,
since the skies were growing dark and wet, by lodging
with him that night, unless good cause forbade it. Brito-
mart, seeing night was at hand, was glad to yield to his
kind request, and went with him without any objection.

His dwelling was not far away, and soon arriving,
they were received in the most gracious and befitting
manner, for their host gave them excellent good cheer,
and talked of pleasant things to entertainthem. Thus
the evening passed well, till the time came for rest.
Then Britomart was brought to her bower, where atten-
dants waited to help her to undress. But she would
not for anything take off her armour, although her host
warmly besought her; for she had vowed, she said, not

S27
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

to lay aside this warrior garb till she had wrought re-
venge on a mortal foe for a recent wrong; which she
would surely perform, let weal or woe betide her.

When their host perceived this, he grew very dis-
contented, for he was afraid lest he should now miss
his purpose ; but taking leave of her, he departed.

Britomart remained all night restless and comfort-
less, with deeply grieved heart, not allowing the least
twinkle of sleep to refresh her. In sorrowful thoughts
she wore away the weary hours, now walking softly
about, now sitting still, upright. Neither did Talus
let sleep close his eyelids, but kept continual guard,
lying in much discomfort outside her door, like a
spaniel, watching carefully lest any one should by
treachery betray his lady.

Just at cock-crow Britomart heard a strange noise
in the hall below, and suddenly the bed, on which she
might have been lying, by a false trap was let to fall
down into a lower room; then immediately the floor
was raised again, so that no one could spy the trap.

At the sight of this, Britomart was sorely dismayed,
plainly perceiving the treason which was intended; yet
she did not stir, in case of more, but courageously kept
her place, waiting what would follow.

It was not long before she heard the sound of armed
men coming towards her chamber, at which dreadful
peril she quickly caught her sword, and bound her
shield about her. As she did so, there came to her
door two knights, all armed ready to fight, and after
them a rascally mob, rudely equipped with weapons.

As soon as Talus spied them he started up from

328
The House of Guile

where he lay on the ground, and caught his thresher
ready in his hand. ‘They immediately let drive at him,
and pressed round in riotous array, but as soon as he
began to lay about with his iron flail, they turned and
fled, both the armed knights and the unarmed crowd.
Talus pursued them wherever he could spy them in the
dark, then returning to Britomart, told her the story of
the fray, and all the treason that was intended.

Though greatly enraged, and inwardly burning
to be avenged for such an infamous deed, Britomart
was compelled to wait for daylight. She therefore
remained in her chamber, but kept wary heed, in case
of any further treachery.

The cause of this evil behaviour was unknown to
Britomart, but this is how it was.

The master of the house was called Dolon (Guzde),
a subtle and wicked man; in his youth he had been
a knight, and borne arms, but gained little good and
less honour by that warlike kind of life; for he was
not in the least valorous, but with sly shifts and wiles
got the better of all noble and daring knights, and
brought many to shame by treachery.

He had three sons, all three like their father
treacherous, and full of fraud and guile. The eldest,
named Guizor, had, through his own guilty cunning, been
slain by Artegall, and to avenge him, Dolon, with his
other two sons, had lately devised many vile plots. He
imagined by several tokens that his present guest was
Artegall, but chiefly on account of the Iron Man who
was always accustomed to remain with Artegall. Dolon,
therefore, meant surely to have slain the Knight, but by

329
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

the grace of heaven and her own good heed, Britomart
was preserved from the traitor.

The next morning, as soon as it was dawn, she
came forth from the hateful chamber, fully intending
to punish the villain and all his family. But coming
down to seek them where they dwelt, she could not
see father, nor sons, nor any one. She sought in each
room, but found them all empty; every one had fled
in fear, but whither neither she nor Talus knew.

She saw it was in vain to stay there longer, so took
her steed, and lightly mounting, started again on her
former way. She had not ridden the distance of an
arrow’s flight before she saw in front of her the two
false brethren on the perilous Bridge, where Sir Arte-
gall had fought with the Saracen. The passage was
narrow, like a ploughed ridge, so that if two met, one
must needs fall over the edge.

There they thought to wreak their wrath on her,
and began to reproach her bitterly, accusing her of
murdering Guizor by cunning. Britomart did not
know what they meant, but she went forward without
pausing till she came to the perilous Bridge. ‘There
Talus wanted to prepare the way for her, and scare
off the two villains, but her eyes sparkled with anger
at the suggestion. Not staying to consider which way
to take, she put spurs to her fiery steed, and making
her way between them, she drove one brother at the
point of her spear to the end of the Bridge, and hurled
the other brother over the side of it into the river.

Thus the Warrior Princess slew the two wicked
sons of Goodman Guile.

339
Radigund and Britomart

The Battle of Queen Radigund and Britomart

That night Britomart spent in the great Temple of
Isis, which was dedicated in days of old to the worship
of Justice. Here in her sleep she had a wondrous
vision, which at first filled her with dread. But when
she described it next morning to the priests in the
Temple, they told her that her dream Had a good
meaning, and that everything would end well. Greatly
relieved to hear this, she bestowed rich rewards on the
priests, and made royal gifts of gold and silver to the
Temple. Then taking leave of them, she went forward
to seek her love, never resting and never relenting till
she came to the land of the Amazons.

When news of her approach was brought to Radigund
she was filled with courage and glee instead of being
dismayed. Glad to hear of fighting, of which she had
now had none for a long time, she bade them open the
gates boldly, so that she might see the face of her new
foe ; but when they told her of the Iron Man who had
lately slain her people, she bade them hold them shut.

So there outside the gate, as seemed best, her
pavilion was pitched, in which brave Britomart rested
herself, while Talus watched at her door all night.
All night, likewise, those of the town, in terror, kept
good watch and ward upon their wall.

The next morning, as soon as it was dawn, the war-
like Amazon peeped out of her bower, and caused
a shrill trumpet to sound to warn her foe to hasten
to the battle. Britomart, who had long been awake

331
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

and arrayed for contest, immediately stepped haughtily
from the pavilion, ready for the fight, and on the other
side her foe soon appeared.

But before they lifted hand, Radigund began to
propound the strict conditions with which she always
fettered her foes—that Britomart should serve her as
she had bound the rest to do. At this, Britomart
frowned sternly, in disdain of such indignity, and would
no longer parley, but bade them sound the advance,
for she would be tied by no other terms than those
prescribed by the laws of chivalry.

The trumpets sounded, and they rushed together
with greedy rage, smiting with their falchions; neither
sought to shun the other’s stroke, but both savagely
hacked and hewed, furious as a tiger and a lioness
fighting over the same prey. So long they fought that
all the grassy floor was trampled with blood. At last
Radigund, having espied some near advantage, let drive
at Britomart with all her might, thus taunting her with
savage scorn —

“Bear this token to the man whom you love so
dearly, and tell him you gave your life for his sake!”

The cruel stroke glanced on Britomart’s shoulder
plate, and bit to the bone, so that she could hardly
hold up her shield for the smart of it. Yet she soon
avenged it, for the furious pain gave her fresh force,
and she smote Radigund so rudely on the helmet that
it pierced to the very brain, and felled her to the ground,
where with one stroke Britomart killed her.

When Radigund’s warrior band saw this dreadful
sight they all fled into the town, and left Britomart

332


mitt ull r :
i































“Thence forth unto the Fdole they ber brought;

To which the Jodole, as it were inclining,
‘bev wand did move with amiable looke,
Sy outward sbew ber inward sense designing,”











































































Radigund and Britomart

sole victor. But they could not retreat so fast but
that Talus could overtake the foremost. Pressing
through the mob to the gate, he entered in with them,
and then began a piteous slaughter ; for all who came
within reach of his iron flail were soon beyond the skill
of any doctor.

Then the noble Conqueror herself came in, and
though she had sworn a vow of revenge, yet when she
saw the heaps of dead bodies slain by Talus, her heart
was torn with pity, and she bade him slack his fury.
Having thus stayed the massacre, she inquired for the
iron prison where her love lay captive. Breaking it open
with indignant rage, she entered, and went all over
it; when she saw the strange and horrible sight of the
men dressed up in womanish garb, her heart groaned with
compassion for such unmanly and disgraceful misery.

When at last she came to her own Knight, whom
the like disguise had no less disfigured, abashed with
shame she turned aside her head, and then with:
pity and tender words she tried to comfort him.
She caused the unsightly garments to be immediately
taken off, and in their stead sought for other raiment,
of which there was great store, as well as bright armour
reft from many a noble knight whom the proud Amazon
had subdued. When Sir Artegall was clad anew in
this apparel Britomart’s spirits revived, and she re-
joiced in his gallant appearance.

They remained for awhile in the city of Queen
Radigund, so that Sir Artegall might recover his
strength, and Britomart be healed of her wounds.
During this time Britomart reigned as a Princess, and

335
‘The Adventures of Sir Artegall

changed all the order of government. The women
were deposed from the rule which they had usurped,
and true justice was dealt them, so that, worshipping
Britomart as a goddess, they all admired her wisdom
and listened to her teaching. All those knights who
had long been hidden in captivity, she freed from
their thraldom, and made magistrates of the city,
giving them great wealth and authority. And in
order that they should always remain faithful, she
made them swear fealty to Artegall.

As the latter Knight was now fully recovered, he
proposed to proceed upon the first adventure which
had called him forth, the release of the Lady Irene
from the villain Grantorto. Very sad and sorrowful
was Britomart at his departure, yet wisely moderated
her own grief, seeing that his honour, which she put
above all things, was much concerned in carrying out
that adventure. For a little while after he had gone
she remained there in the city, but finding her misery
increase with his absence, and hoping that change of
air and place would somewhat ease her sorrow, she too
departed, to appease her anguish in travel.

The Adventure of the Damsel, the Two Knights,
and the Sultan’s Horses

As Sir Artegall rode forth on his way, accompanied
only by Talus, he saw far off a damsel on a palfrey
flying fast in terror before two knights, who pursued
her. These in turn were themselves pursued by another

336
The Damsel and the Knights

knight, who pricked after them with all his might, his
spear ready levelled. At length the latter overtook the
hindmost of the two knights, and compelled him to
turn and face him; but the other still pursued the maid,
who flew as fast in front of him, and never stopped till
she saw Sir Artegall. To him she ran at once, in glad
haste, hoping to get help against her enemy; and Arte-
gall, seeing her approach, went forward to relieve her
fear, and to prevent her foe from hurting her.

But the pursuing knight, greedy as a hound after
his prey, still continued his course, thinking to over-
throw Sir Artegall with his spear. Thus alike sternly
resolved they met fiercely. But Artegall was the
stronger, and better skilled in tilt and tournament,
and he hurled the other out of his saddle quite two
spears’ lengths. The Pagan . knight, unluckily for
himself, pitched on his head, broke his neck, and was
killed on the spot.

Meanwhile the third Knight had defeated and slain
the second of the villains, and leaving him there dead,
he ran on to overtake his companion. Instead of him
he found Sir Artegall, and not knowing he was also on
the side of the damsel, he ran at him without thinking ;
and the latter, seeing him approach so fiercely, made
against him again. So they met, and struck strongly,
and broke their spears; yet neither was dismounted,
though they both shook to and fro, and tottered like
two towers quaking in a tempest.

But when they had recovered their senses they drew
their swords, meaning to make amends with them where

their spears had failed. When the damsel, who had
337 Y
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

seen the end of both her foes, now beheld her friends
beginning for her sake a more fearful fray, she ran to
them in haste, crying to them to stay their cruel hands
until they both heard what she had to say to them.

“Ah, gentle Knights,” she cried, ‘‘ why do you thus
unwisely wreak on yourselves another’s wrong? Iam
the injured one whom both of you have aided. Wit-
ness the two Pagan knights whom ye may see dead on
the ground! What more revenge, therefore, do you
desire? If more, then I am she who was the root of
all. End your revenge on me.”

When they heard her speak thus, and saw that their
foes were indeed dead, they immediately stayed their
hands, and lifted up their visors to look at each other ;
and then Sir Artegall saw that his adversary was none
other than Prince Arthur himself.

Filled with admiration for his gallant and noble
bearing, and touched with the deepest affection, he
drew near, and prayed pardon for having unknowingly
wronged him, offering to yield himself to the Prince for
ever, or to any penance he chose to inflict.

To whom the Prince replied—

“Truly, I need more to crave the same pardon, for
having been so misled by error as to mistake you for
the dead man. But since it pleases you that both our
faults shall be forgotten, amends can soon be made,
since neither is much damaged thereby.”

Thus their perfect friendship was easily restored, and
they embraced lovingly, each swearing faithfully on his
blade never thenceforth to nourish enmity against the
other, but always mutually to maintain each other’s cause.

338
The Damsel and the Knights

Then they called the damsel, and asked her who
were the two foes from whom she was flying so fast,
and who she was herself, and what was the reason why
she was pursued by them.

The maiden, whose name was Samient, replied that
she was in the service of a great and mighty queen
called Mercilla, a Princess of great power and majesty.
She was known above all for her bounty and sovereign
grace, with which she supported her royal crown, and
strongly beat down the malice of her foes, who envied
her, and fretted, and frowned at her happiness. In
spite of them she grew greater and greater, and even
to her foes her mercies increased.

Amongst the many who maligned her was a mighty
man dwelling near, who, with cruel spite and hatred,
did all in his power to undermine her crown and dignity.
Her good knights, of whom she had as brave a band
as any Princess on earth, he either destroyed, if they
stood against him, or else tried to bribe slyly to take
his part.. And not content with this, he was always
trying by treacherous plots to kill Queen Mercilla.

“He is provoked to all this tyranny, they say, by
his bad wife, Adicia,”’ continued Samient, ‘“‘who counsels
him, because of his strength, to break all bonds of law
and rule of right; for she professes herself a mortal
foe to justice, and always fights against it, working
deadly woe to all who love it, and making her knights
and people do so likewise.

“My liege lady, seeing this, thought it best to deal
with Adicia in a friendly fashion, in order to put an
end to strife, and to establish rest both for herself and

869
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

her people. She therefore sent me on a message to
treat with her, by way of negotiation, as to some final
peace and fair arrangement, which might be concluded
by mutual consent.

“ At all times it is customary to afford safe passage
to messengers who come on a just cause, but this proud
dame, disdaining all such rules, not only burst into
bitter words, reviling and railing at me as she chose,
but actually thrust me like a dog out of doors, miscall-
ing me by many a bitter name, who never did any ill
to her. Then lastly she sent those two knights after
me to work me further mischief, but thanks to Heaven
and your valour, they have paid the price of their own
folly.”

So said the damsel, and showed herself most grate-
ful to Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall for their aid.

The Knights, having heard of all the wrongs done
by the proud dame Adicia, were very indignant, and
eagerly desired to punish her and her husband, the
Sultan. But thinking to carry out their design more
easily by a counterfeit disguise, they arranged this plot :
first, that Sir Artegall should array himself like one of
the two dead knights, then that he should convey the
damsel Samient as his prize to the Sultan’s court, to
present her to the scornful lady, who had sent for her.

This was accordingly done.

Directly the Sultan’s wife saw them, as she lay look-
ing out of the window, she thought it was the Pagan
knight with her prey, and sent a page to direct him
where to go. Taking them to the appointed place, the
page offered his service to disarm the Knight, but Sir

Ke
The Sultan’s Horses

Artegall refused to take off his armour, fearing to be
discovered.

Soon after, Prince Arthur arrived, and sent a bold
defiance to the Sultan, requiring of him the damsel
whom he held as a wrongful prisoner. The Sultan,
filled with fury, swearing and cursing, commanded his
armour to be brought at once, and mounted straight
upon a high chariot, dreadfully armed with iron wheels
and hooks, and drawn by cruel steeds, whom he fed
with the flesh of slaughtered men.

‘Thus he came forth, clad in a coat of mail, all red
with rust. The Prince waited ready for him in glister-
ing armour, right goodly to see, that shone like the
sun. By the stirrup Talus attended, playing his page’s
part, as his master had directed.

So they went forth to battle, both alike fierce,
but with different motives. For the proud and pre-
sumptuous Sultan, with insolent bearing, sought only
slaughter and revenge; but the brave Prince fought
for right and honour against lawless tyranny, on behalf
of wronged weakness, trusting more to the truth of
his cause than in his own strength.

The Sultan in his folly thought either to hew the
Prince in pieces with his sharp wheels, or to bear
him down under his fierce horses’ feet, and trample
him in the dust. But the bold Knight, well spying that
peril if he came too near the chariot, kept out of the way
of the flying horses. Yet as he passed by, the Pagan
threw a dart with such force that, had he not shunned
it heedfully, it would have transfixed either himself or
his horse. Often Prince Arthur came near, hoping to

341
The Adventures of Sit Artegall

aim some stroke at him, but the Sultan was mounted so
high in his chariot, and his wing-footed coursers bore
him so fast away, that before the Prince could advance



ao

: i otc
: SNC Sie

his spear, he was past and gone; yet still he followed
him everywhere, and in turn was followed by him.

Again the Pagan threwanother dart, which, guided by
some bad spirit, glided through Prince Arthur’s cuirass,
and made a grisly wound in his side. Furious as a raging
S42
The Sultan’s Horses

lion, the Prince sought to get at his foe; but whenever he
approached, the chariot wheels whirled round him, and
made him fly back again as fast ; and the Sultan’s horses,
like hungry hounds hunting after game, so. cruelly
chased and pursued him that his own good steed, al-
though renowned for courage and hardy race, dared not
endure the sight of them, but fled from place to place.

Thus for a long while they rushed to and fro, seek-
ing in every way to find some opening for attack; but
the Prince could never get near enough for one sure
stroke. Then at last from his victorious shield he
drew the veil which hid its magic light, and coming
full before the horses as they pressed upon him, flashed
it in their eyes.

Like the lightning which burns the gazer, so did
the sight of the shield dismay their senses, so that they
turned back upon themselves and ran away with their
driver. Nor could the Sultan stay their flight with
reins or accustomed rule, as he well knew how; they
did not fear him in the least—their only fear was that
from which they fled dismayed, like terrified deer.
Fast as their feet could bear them they flew over hill
and dale. In vain the Pagan cursed and swore and
railed, and dragged with both hands at the reins; he
called and spoke to them, but nothing availed. They
heard him not, they forgot his training, they went
which way they chose, heedless of their guide. Through
woods and rocks and mountains they drew the iron
chariot, and the wheels tore the Sultan, and tossed him
here and there from side to side, crying in vain to those
who would not hear his crying.

343
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

And all the while Prince Arthur pursued closely
behind, but could find no means of smiting his foe.

At last the horses overthrew the chariot, which was
turned topsy-turvy, and the iron hooks and sharp knives
caught hold of the Sultan and tore him all to rags.
Nothing was left of him but some bits of his battered
and broken shield and armour. These Prince Arthur
gathered up and took with him that they might remain
as a token, whenever the tale was told, of how worthily
that day, by Heaven’s decree, justice had avenged her-
self of wrong, so that all men might take warning by
the example.

Therefore, on a tree in front of the tyrant’s door,
he caused them to be hung in the sight of all men, to
be a memorial for ever.

When the Lady Adicia from the castle height be-
held them she was appalled, but instead of being over-
come with fright, as another woman might have been,
she immediately began to devise how to be revenged.

Knife in hand, she ran down, vowing to wreak her
vengeance on the maiden messenger whom she had
ordered to be kept prisoner by Sir Artegall, mistaking
him for her own knight ; and coming into her presence
she ran at her with all her might. But Artegall, being
aware thereof, stayed her cruel hand before it reached
Samient, and caught the weapon from her. There-
upon, like one distracted, she rushed forth, wherever
her rage bore her, frantic with passion. Breaking out
at a postern door, she ran into the wild wood, where, it
is said, on account of her malice and cruelty she was
transformed into a tiger.

Sata
At the Den of Deceit

The Adventure at the Den of Deceit

After the defeat of the Sultan and the flight of his
wicked wife, Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall wished
to hand over the place’ and all its wealth to Samient to
hold for her lady, while they departed on their quest ;
but the maiden begged them so earnestly to go with
her to see Queen Mercilla that at last they consented.

On the way she told them of a strange thing near
at hand—to wit, a wicked villain who dwelt in a rock
not far off, and who robbed all the country round, and
took the pillage home. In this his own wily wit, and
also the security of his dwelling-place, both of which
were unassailable, were of great assistance. For he was
so crafty both to invent and execute, so light of hand
and nimble of foot, so smooth of tongue and subtle in
his tale, that any one looking at him might well be
taken in. Therefore he was called Deceit.

He was well known for his achievements, and by his
tricks had brought many toruin. The rock, also, where
he dwelt was wondrous strong, and hewn a dreadful
depth far under ground; within it was full of winding
and hidden passages, so that no one could find his
way back who once went amiss.

The Knights, hearing this, longed to see the villain
where he lurked, and bade Samient guide them to the
place. As they came near, they agreed that the best
plan would be for the damsel to go on in front, and sit
alone near the den, wailing and raising a pitiful uproar.
When the wretch issued forth, hoping to find some

oa)
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

spoil, they, lying in wait, would closely ensnare him
before he could retreat to his den, and thus they hoped
to foil him easily.

Samient immediately did as she was directed, and
the noise of her weeping speedily brought forth the
villain, as they had intended. ~

He was as dreadful a creature as ever walked on
earth, with hollow, deeply set eyes, and long shaggy locks
straggling down his shoulders. He wore strange gar-
ments all in rags and tatters, and in his hand he held a
huge long staff, the top of which was armed with many
iron hooks, to catch hold of everything that came within
reach of his clutches, and he kept casting looks around
in all directions. At his back he bore a great wide net,
with which he seldom fished in the water, but which he
used to fish for silly folk on the dry shore, and in fair
weather he caught many.

When Samient saw close beside her such an ugly
creature she was really frightened, and now in earnest
cried aloud for help. But when the villain saw her so
afraid, he tried guilefully to persuade her to banish fear ;
smiling sardonically on her, he diverted her mind by
talking pleasantly and showing her some amusing tricks,
for he was an adept at jugglery and conjuring feats.
Whilst her attention was engaged, he suddenly threw his
net over her like a puff of wind, and snatching her up
before she was well aware, ran with her to his cave. But
when he came near and saw the armed Knights stopping
his passage, he flung down his burden and fled fast away.

Sir Artegall pursued him, while Prince Arthur still
kept guard at the entrance of the den. Up to the rock

346






“The Dam3ell straight went, as she was directed,
Unto the rocke; and there upon the soyle
Gan weepe and wayle, as if great grief bad ber affected.

The cry whereof entering the hollow cave
-Eftsoones brought forth the villaine, as they ment.”



At the Den of Deceit

ran Deceit, like a wild goat leaping from hill to hill,
and dancing on the very edge of the craggy cliffs. It
was useless for the armed Knight to think of follow-
ing him, but he sent his Iron Man after him, for Talus
was swift in chase.

Then wherever Deceit went Talus pursued him,
so that he soon forced him to forsake the heights and
descend to the low ground. Now Deceit tried a new
plan: he suddenly changed his form. First he turned
himself into a fox, but Talus still hunted him as a fox;
then he transformed himself to a bush, but Talus beat
the bush till at last it changed into a bird, and passed
from him, flying from tree to tree, and from reed to
reed; but Talus threw stones at the bird, so that
presently it changed itself into a stone, and dropped to
the ground; whereupon Talus took the stone up in his
hand and brought it to the Knights, and gave it to Sir
Artegall, warning him to hold it fast for fear of tricks.
While the Knight seized it in a tight grip, the stone
went unawares into a hedgehog, and pricked him, so
that he threw it away; then it began to run off quickly,
returning to Deceit’s own shape ; but Talus soon over-
took him and brought him back.

But when he would have changed himself into a
serpent, Talus drove at him with his iron flail, and
thrashed him so that he died. So that was the end of
Deceit the self-deceiver.

Leaving his dead body where it fell, the two Knights
went on with the maiden to see her Lady, as they had
agreed. Presently they beheld a stately palace, mounted
high with terraces and towers, and all the tops were glis-

349
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

tering with gold, which seemed to outshine the sky, and
with their brightness dazzled the eyes of strangers.
There alighting, they were directed in by Samient, and
shown all that was to be seen. The magnificent porch
stood open wide to all men, day and night; yet it was
well guarded by a man of great strength, like a giant,
who sat there to keep out guile and malice and spite,
which often under a feigned semblance works much
mischief in Princes’ courts. His name was Awe.

Passing by him they went up the hall, which was a
wide large room, filled with people, making a great din.
In the thickest of the press the marshal of the hall,
whose name was Order, came to them, and command-
ing peace, guided them through the throng. All ceased.
their clamour to gaze at the Knights, half terrified at
their shining armour, which was a strange sight to them ;
for they never saw such array there, nor was the name
of war ever spoken, but all was joyous peace, and quiet-
ness, and just government.

So by degrees they were guided into the presence of
the Queen. She sat high up, on a throne of bright and
shining gold, adorned with priceless gems. All over
her was spread a canopy of state, glittering and gleam-
ing like a cloud of gold and silver, upheld by the rain-
bow-coloured wings of little cherubs. Thus she sat in
sovereign majesty, holding a sceptre in her royal handy
the sacred pledge of peace and clemency. At her feet
lay her sword, the bright steel brand rusted from long
rest, yet when foes forced it, or friends sought aid,
she could draw it sternly to dismay the world. Round
about her sat a bevy of fair maidens, clad in white,

35e
At the Den of Deceit

whilst underneath her feet lay a great huge lion, like a
captive thrall, bound with a strong iron chain and collar.

Now at the instant when the two stranger Knights
came into the presence of the Queen, she was holding,
as it happened, a great and important trial. Having
acknowledged their obeisance with royal courtesy, she
gave orders to proceed with the trial; and wishing that
the Knights should see and understand all that was
going on, she bade them both mount up to her stately
throne, and placed one on each side of her.

Then there was brought forward as prisoner a lady
of great beauty and high position, but who had blotted
all her honour and titles of nobility by her wicked
behaviour. This was no other than the false Duessa,
who had wrought so much mischief by her malice and
cunning. Seeing the piteous plight in which she now
stood, Prince Arthur’s tender heart was touched with
compassion; but when he heard the long roll of her
crimes read forth, he could no longer wish that she
should escape punishment. Sir Artegall, for the sake
of justice, was against her, and she was judged guilty
by all. Then they called loudly to the Queen to pro-
nounce sentence. Mercilla was deeply moved at the
sight of Duessa’s wretched plight, and even then would
gladly have pardoned her ; but in order to save her land
from further evil, which would grow if not checked,
she was obliged to keep to the stern law of justice.
Melting to tears, she suddenly left her throne, unable
to speak the words that doomed the prisoner to death ;
and she never ceased to lament with bitter remorse the
fate which the wretched Duessa had brought on herself.

35!
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

The Adventure of the Tyrant Grantorto

While Prince Arthur and Sir Artegall were staying
at the court of Queen Mercilla, there came one day
two noble youths to implore aid for their mother, for
their father was dead. A cruel tyrant, the son of a
giant, had ravaged all her land, setting up an idol of
his own, and giving her dear children one by one to
be devoured by a horrible monster. Prince Arthur,
seeing that none of the other knights were eager for
this adventure, boldly stepped forward, and begged the
Queen to let him undertake it. She gladly granted
permission, and the following morning he started on
his journey. In due course he reached the land which
had been laid waste, fought with the tyrant, and over-
came him, slew the vile monster, and restored the lady
to her rightful possessions.

Sir Artegall, meanwhile, had started again on his
first quest, which was to set free the Lady Irene and
punish Grantorto. He fared forward through many
perils, with Talus, as usual, his only attendant, till he
came at length near the appointed place.

There, as he travelled, he met an old and solitary
wayfarer, whom he knew at once as the attendant of
Irene, when she came in sorrow to the court of the
Faerie Queene to entreat protection. Saluting him by
name, Sir Artegall inquired for news of his Lady, whether
she were still alive, and if so why he had left her. To
whom the aged knight replied that she lived and was
well, but had been seized by treachery and imprisoned

Spe
The Tyrant Grantorto

by the tyrant Grantorto, who had often sought her life.
And now he had fixed a day by which, if no champion
appeared to do battle for her and prove her innocent
of those crimes of which she was accused, she should
surely suffer death.

Sir Artegall was much cast down to hear these sad
tidings, and sorely grieved that it was owing to his own
long delay in captivity that the misfortune had happened.

“Tell me, Sir Sergis,” he said, “how long a space
hath he lent her to provide a champion?”

‘““Ten days he has granted as a favour,” was the
answer ; ‘‘for he knows well that before that date no
one can have tidings to help her. For all the shores,
far and wide, which border on the sea, he guards night
and day, so that no one could land without an army.
Already he considers her as good as dead.”

‘‘ Now turn again,” said Sir Artegall; “for if I live
till those ten days are ended, be assured, Sir Knight,
she shall have aid, though I spend my life for her.”

So he went back at once with Sir Sergis.

Then as they rode together they saw in front of
them a confused crowd of people, rudely chasing to
and fro a hapless Knight, who was in much danger
from their rough handling. Some distance away, stand-
ing helpless in the midst of the mob, they spied a lady,
crying and holding up her hands to him for aid. Sir
Artegall and Talus put to flight the rascally rout who
were assailing the Knight, and then inquired of him the
cause of his misadventure. He replied that his name
was Burbon, and that he had been well known and far
renowned till mischief had fallen on him and tarnished

353 Z
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

his former fame. The lady was his own love, whom
the tyrant Grantorto had tried to bribe from him with
rich gifts and deceitful words, and now he had sent
a troop of villains to snatch her away by open force.
Burbon had for a long time vainly tried to rescue her,
but was overcome by the multitude of his assailants.

“But why have you forsaken your own good
shield?” said Artegall. ‘‘This is the greatest shame
and deepest scorn that can happen to any knight, to
lose the badge that should display his deeds.”

“That I will explain to you, lest you blame me
for it, and think it was done willingly, whereas it was a
matter of necessity,” said Sir Burbon, blushing half for
shame. “It is true that I was at first dubbed knight
by a good Knight—the Knight of the Red Cross, who,
when he gave me arms to fight in battle, gave me a
shield on which he traced his dear Redeemer’s badge.
That same I bore for a long time, and with it fought
many ‘battles, without wound or loss. With it I
appalled Grantorto himself, and oftentimes made him
fall in field before me. But because many envied that
shield, and cruel foes greatly increased, to stop all strife
and troublous enmity I laid aside the battered scutcheon, _
and have lately gone without it, hoping thereby to
obtain my Lady; nevertheless I cannot have her, for
she is still detained from me by force, and is per-
verted from truth by bribery.”

“Truly, Sir Knight,” said Artegall, “it is a hard
case of which you complain, yet not so hard as to
abandon that which contains the blazon of your honour
—that is, your warlike shield. All peril and all pain

354
The Tyrant Grantorto

should be accounted less than loss of fame. Die rather
than do aught that yields dishonour.”

“Not so,” quoth Sir Burbon, “ for when time serves
I may again resume my former shield. To temporise
is not to swerve from truth, when advantage or neces-
sity compels it.”

“Fie on such forgery!” said Artegall. ‘Under
one hood to hide two faces ! Knights should be true,
and truth is one in all. Down with all dissembling!”

“Yet help me now for courtesy against these
peasants who have oppressed me,” said Burbon, “‘so
that my lady may be freed from their hands.”

Sir Artegall, although he blamed his wavering
mind, agreed to aid him, and buckling himself at once
to the fight, with the help of Talus and his iron flail
soon dispersed the rabble.

But when they came to where the lady now stood
alone, and Burbon ran forward to embrace her, she
started back disdainfully, and would listen to nothing
he said. The Knights rebuked her for being so fickle
and wayward, and Sir Artegall’s grave words so abashed
her, that she hung down her head for shame, and stood
speechless. Seeing this, Burbon made a second attempt,
and she allowed him to place her on his steed without
resistance. So he carried her off, seemingly neither
well nor ill pleased.

Then Sir Artegall took his way to the sea-shore,
to see if he could find any shipping to carry him over
to the savage island where Grantorto held the Lady
Irene captive. As good fortune fell, when they came
to the coast they found a ship all ready to put to sea.

355
The Adventures of Sir Artegall .

Wind and weather served them so well that in one
day they reached the island, where they found great
hosts of men in order of battle ready to repel them, who
held possession of the ground and forbade them to land.
Nevertheless they would not refrain from landing, but
as they drew near, Talus jumped into the sea, and wading
through the waves, gained the shore, and chased the
enemy away. Then Artegall and the old Knight landed,
and marched forward to a town which was in sight.

By this time those who first fled in fear had brought
tidings to the tyrant, who summoned all his forces in
alarm,and marched out to encounter the enemy. He had
not gone far when he met them; he charged with all
his might, but Talus set upon the tyrant’s troops and
bruised and battered them so pitilessly, that he killed
many. No one was able to withstand him; he over-
threw them, man and horse, so that they lay scattered
all over the land, as thick as seed after the sower.

Then Sir Artegall, seeing his rage, bade him to
stop, and made a sign of truce. Calling a herald, he
sent him to the tyrant to tell him that he did not come
thither for the sake of such slaughter, but to try the
right of Irene’s cause with him in single fight. When
Grantorto heard this message, right glad was he thus to
stop the slaughter, and he appointed the next morrow
for the combat betwixt them twain.

The following morning was the dismal day ap-
pointed for Irene’s death. The sorrowful maiden,
to whom none had borne tidings of the arrival of
Artegall to set her free, looked up with sad eyes and a
heavy heart, believing her last hour to be near. Rising,

356
The Tyrant Grantorto

she dressed herself in squalid garments fit for such a
day, and was brought forth to receive her doom.

But when she came to the place, and found there
Sir Artegall in battle array, waiting for the foe, her heart
was cheered, and it lent new life to her in the midst of
deadly fear. Like a withered rose, dying of drought,
which glows with fresh grace when a few drops of rain
fall on her dainty face, so was Irene’s countenance when
she saw Sir Artegall in that array waiting for the tyrant.

At length, with proud and presumptuous bear-
ing, Grantorto came into the field. He was armed in
a coat of iron plate, and wore on his head a steel cap,
rusty brown in colour, but sure and strong. He bore in
his hand a great pole-axe, with which he was accustomed
to fight, the blade of which was iron-studded, but not
long. He was huge and hideous in stature, like a giant
in height, surpassing most men in strength, and had
moreover great skill in single fight. His face was ugly,
and his expression stern enough to frighten one with the
very sight of it; and when he grinned, it could scarcely
be discerned whether he were a man or a monster.

As soon as he appeared within the lists he surveyed
Artegall with a dreadful look, as if he would have
daunted him with fear, and grinning in a grisly fashion
flourished his deadly weapon. But the Knight of the
Faerie Queene, who had often seen such a sight, was
not in the least quelled by his ghastly. countenance, but
began straight to buckle himself to the fight, and cast
his shield in front of him to be in readiness.

The trumpets sounded, and they rushed together
with terrific force, each dealing huge and dangerous

SOY
The Adventures of Sir Artegall

strokes. But the tyrant thundered his blows with
such violence that they rent their way through the
iron walls of his enemy’s armour. Artegall, seeing
this, took wary heed to shun them, and often stooped
his head to shield himself; but Grantorto wielded his
iron axe so nimbly that he gave him many wounds.
But lifting his arm to smite him mortally, the Knight
spied his advantage, and slipping underneath, struck
him right in the flank. Yet the tyrant’s blow, as he
had intended, kept on its course, and fell with such
monstrous weight that it seemed as if nothing could
protect Sir Artegall from death. But betwixt him
and the blow he cast his shield, in which the pole-axe
buried itself so deep that Grantorto could in no way
wrest it back again. He tugged and strove, and
dragged the Knight all about the place, but neverthe-
less he could not free the axe from the shield.

Artegall, perceiving this, let go of his shield, and
attacking the tyrant with his sword Crysaor, swiftly
cut off his head.

When the people round about saw this they all
shouted for joy at his success, glad to be freed from the
tyrant who had so long oppressed them. Joyously run-
ning to the fair Lady Irene, they fell at her feet, doing
homage to her as their true liege’ and princess, while
the glory of her champion was sounded everywhere.

Then Sir Artegall led Irene with fitting majesty to
the palace where the kings reigned, and established her
peaceably therein, and restored her kingdom again to
her. And all such persons as had helped the tyrant
with open or secret aid he punished severely, so that in

358
he i vrant Grantorto

a very short space not one was left who would have
dared to disobey her. During the time he remained
there all his study was how to deal true justice, and day









NY AYN

aaa rN we a SL
Mita a ANE

pee ie ANGI

: “a



and night he gave his anxious thoughts as to how he

might reform the government.
Thus, having freed Irene from distress, he took his

leave, and left her sorrowing at his departure.
359


Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

The Quest of the Blatant Beast
Cs of the best loved knights at the court of the

Faerie Queene was Sir Calidore, for even there,
where courteous knights and ladies most did throng,
not one was more renowned for courtesy than Calidore.
Gentleness of spirit and winning manners were natural
to him, and added to these, his gallant bearing and
gracious speech stole all men’s hearts. Moreover, he
was strong and tall, and well proved in battle, so that
he had won much glory, and his fame had spread
afar. Not a knight or lady at the Court but loved
him dearly; and he was worthy of their affection, for
he hated falsehood and base flattery, and loved simple

truth and steadfast honesty.
360
The Quest of the Blatant Beast

But like all Queen Gloriana’s other knights, Sir
Calidore was not allowed to spend his days in slothful
ease at the court. He had his task to perform, and the
adventure appointed to him wasa hard and perilous one.

As he travelled on his way, it happened by chance
that he met Sir Artegall, who was returning half sadly
from the conquest he had lately made. They knew
each other at once, and Sir Calidore was the first to
speak. :

“ Hail, noblest Knight of all that live and breathe!”
he cried. ‘“‘ Now tell me, if it please you, of the good
success you have had in your late enterprise.”

Then Sir Artegall told him the whole story of his
exploits from beginning to end.

“Happy man to have worthily achieved so hard a
quest !” said Calidore, when he had finished. ‘‘ It will
make you renowned forevermore. But where you have
ended I now begin to tread an endless track, without
guide or direction how to enter in or issue forth—in
untried ways, in strange perils, and in long and weary
labour. And even although good fortune may befall
me, it will be unseen of any one.”

“What is that quest which calls you now into
such peril?” asked Sir Artegall.

‘“‘T pursue the Blatant Beast,” said Sir Calidore,
“and incessantly chase him through the world until
I overtake and subdue him. I do not know how or
in what place to find him, yet still I fare forward.”

“What is that Blatant Beast?” asked Artegall.

“Tt is a hideous’ monster of evil race, born and |
brought up in dark and noisome places, whence he

361
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

issues forth to be the plague and scourge of wretched
men. He has oftentimes annoyed good knight and
true lady, and destroyed many, for with his venomous
nature and vile tongue he wounds sorely, and bites,
and cruelly torments.”

“Then, since I left the savage island, I have seen
such a beast,” said Artegall. “He seemed to have a
thousand tongues, all agreeing in spite and malice,
with which he barked and bayed at me, as if he would
have devoured me on the spot. He was set on by
two hideous old hags, Exvy and Detractzon. But I,
knowing myself safe from peril, paid no regard to his
malice nor his power, whereupon he poured forth his
wicked poison the more.”

“That surely is the beast which I pursue,” said
Calidore. “Iam right glad to have these tidings of
him, having had none before in all my weary travels.
Now your words give me some hope.”

“God speed you!” said Sir Artegall, “and keep
you from the dfead danger, for you have much to
contend against.”

So they took a kindly leave of each other, and
parted on their several ways.

Sir Calidore had not travelled far when he came
upon a comely Squire, bound hand and foot to a tree,
who seeing him in the distance called to him for aid.
The Knight at once set him free, and then asked him
what mishap had brought him into such disgrace.
The Squire replied it was occasioned not by his fault,
but through his misfortune.

“Not far from here, on yonder rocky hill,” he

362








“@ir Calidore thence travelled not long,
When as by chaunce a comely Squire be found,
That thorougb some more mighty enemies wrong
Both band and foote unto a tree was bound.”



The Quest of the Blatant Beast

said, ‘stands a strong Castle, where a bad and hateful
custom is kept up. For whenever any knight or lady
comes along that way (and they must needs go by,
for it is the pass through the rocks), they shave away
the lady’s locks and the knight’s beard to pay toll for
the passage.”

‘* As shameful a custom as ever I heard of, and it
shall be put a stop to!” said Sir Calidore. ‘‘ But for
what cause was it first set on foot?”

“The lady who owns the castle is called Briana,
and no prouder one lives,” replied the Squire. ‘“‘ For
a long time she has dearly loved a doughty Knight,
and sought to win his love by all the means in her
power. Crudor, for that is his name, in his scornful
and selfish vanity refuses to return her affection until
she has made for him a mantle, lined with the beards
of knights and the locks of ladies. To provide this,
she has prepared this castle, and appointed a Seneschal,
called Maleffort, a man of great strength, who executes
her wicked will with worse malice.

“* As I came along to-day with a fair damsel, my
dear love, he set upon us. Unable to withstand him,
we both fled, and first capturing me he bound me to
this tree till his return, and then went in pursuit of
her. Nor do I know whether he has yet found her.”

While they were speaking they heard a piteous
shriek, and looking in the direction whence the cry
came, they saw the churl dragging the maiden along
by her yellow hair. When Calidore beheld the shame-
ful sight he immediately went in pursuit, and com-
manded the villain to release his prey. Hearing his

365
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

voice, Maleffort turned, and running towards him,
more enraged than terrified, said tauntingly—

“ Are you the wretch who defies me? And will
you give your beard for this maid, whose part you
take? Yet it shall not free her locks from ransom.”

_ With that he flew fiercely at him and laid on the
most hideous strokes. But Calidore, who was well
skilled in fight, let his adversary exhaust his strength,
and then attacked him with such fury that the churl’s
heart failed him, and he took flight to the Castle, where
his hope of refuge remained. But just as the warders
on the Castle wall opened the gates to receive him,
Calidore overtook him in the porch, and killed him,
so that his dead body fell down inside the door. Then
Calidore entered in and slew the porter.

The rest of the Castle inmates flocked round him,
but he swept them all aside. Passing into the hall
he was met by the Lady Briana herself, who bitterly
upbraided him for what she termed his unknightly
conduct in slaying her servants.

“Not unto me the shame, but award it to the
shameful doer,” ‘replied the Knight. “It is no blame
to punish those who deserve it. Those who break the
bonds of civility and make wicked customs, those are
they who defame both noble arms and gentle courtesy.
There is no greater disgrace to man than inhumanity.
Then for dread of disgrace forego this evil custom which
you here keep up, and show instead kindly courtesy to
all who pass. This will gain you more glory than that
man’s love which you thus seek to obtain.”

But the Lady Briana only replied to Sir Calidore with

366
The Quest of the Blatant Beast

the most scornful insolence, and despatching a hasty
message to Crudor, bade him come to her rescue. While
they waited for the return of the messenger, she treated
Sir Calidore with every indignity, so that an iron heart
could scarcely have borne it; but the Knight wisely
controlled his wrath, and bravely and patiently endured
her womanish disdain.

In due course the answer came back that Crudor
would succour his lady before he tasted bread, and
deliver up her foe, dead or alive, into her hand. Then
Briana immediately became quite blithe, and spoke more
bitterly than ever, yet Calidore was not in the least dis-
mayed, but rather seemed the more cheerful. Putting
on his armour, he went out to meet his foe, and soon
spied a Knight spurring towards him with all his might.

He guessed at once this was Crudor, and without
staying to ask his name couched his spear and ran at
him. The Knights met with such fury that both rolled
to the ground ; but while Calidore at once sprang lightly
again to his feet, it was some time before Crudor rose
slowly and heavily. Then the battle was renewed on
foot, and after a fierce and terrible struggle Calidore at
last brought his foe to the ground. He could easily
have killed him, but Crudor, seeing the danger in which
he was placed, cried out—

‘“¢ Ah, mercy, Sir! Do not slay me, but spare my
life which fate has laid under your foot.”

“‘ And is this the boast of that proud lady’s threat,
which menaced to beat me from the field?” said Cali-
dore quietly. “ By this you may now learn not to treat
strangers so rudely. But put away proud looks and

367
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

stern behaviour, which shall gain for you nothing but _
dishonour. However strong and fortunate he may
be in fight, nothing is more blameful to a Knight, who
professes courtesy as well as arms, than the reproach of
pride and cruelty. In vain he seeks to suppress others
who has not learned first to subdue himself. All flesh
is frail and full of fickleness, subject to the chance of
ever-changing fortune: what happens to me to-day
may happen to you to-morrow. He who will not show
mercy to others, how can he ever hope to obtain mercy ?
To pay each in his own coin is right and just.

“Yet since you now need to crave mercy, I will
grant it, and spare your life, on these conditions: First
that you shall behave yourself better to all errant
knights, wherever they may be; and next, that you aid
ladies in every place and in every trouble.”

The wretched man, who had remained all this while
in dread of death, gladly promised to perform all Sir
Calidore’s behests, and further swore to marry Briana
without any dowry, and to release her from his former
shameful conditions. Then Calidore called the Lady,
and soothing her terror, told her of the promise he had
compelled Crudor to make.

Overcome by his exceeding courtesy, which quite
pierced her stubborn heart, Briana threw herself at his
feet, and acknowledged herself deeply indebted to him
for having restored both life and love to her. Then
they all returned to the Castle, and she entertained
them joyfully with feast and glee, trying by all the
means in her power to show her gratitude and good-
will. To Sir Calidore, ae trouble, she freely gave

368
The Proud Discourteous Knight

the Castle, and professed herself bound to him for
ever, so wondrously was she changed from what she
had been before.

But Calidore would not keep for himself Jand or fee
as wages for his good deed, but gave them at once asa
rightful reward to the Squire whom he had lately freed,
and to his damsel, in recompense for all their former
wrong. There he remained happily with them till he
was well and strong from the wounds he had received,
and then he passed forth again on his first quest.

The Proud Discourteous Knight

As Sir Calidore rode on his way he saw not far off
a strange sight—a tall young man fighting on foot
against an armed Knight on horseback; and beside
them he saw a fair lady standing alone on foot, in
sad disarray. Before he could get near to ask what
was the matter, the armed Knight had been killed by
the youth.

Filled with amazement, Sir Calidore steadfastly
marked the latter, and found him to be a goodly and
graceful youth, still only a slender slip, not more than
seventeen years old, but tall and fair of face, so that the
Knight surely deemed him of noble birth. He was
clad in a woodman’s jacket of Lincoln green, trimmed
with silver lace; on his head he wore a hood with
spreading points, and his hunter’s horn hung at his
side. His buskins were of the costliest leather, adorned
with golden points, and regularly intersected with

3.69. 2A
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

stripes, as was then the fashion for those of gentle
family. In his right hand he held a quivering dart,
and in his left a sharp boar-spear.

Calidore, having well viewed him, at length spoke,
and asked him how it came that he, though not yet a
Knight, had dared to slay a Knight, which was plainly
forbidden by chivalry.

“Truly,” said the youth, ‘‘I was loath to break the
law of chivalry, but I would break it again rather than
let myself be struck by any man. He assailed me first,
regardless of what belongs to chivalry.”

‘““By my troth,” then said Sir Calidore, “great
blame is it for an armed Knight to wrong an unarmed
man. But tell me why this strife arose between you?”

Then the youth, whose name was Tristram, told
him that, as he was hunting that day in the forest,
he chanced to meet this man, together with the lady.
The Knight, as Sir Calidore had seen, was on horseback,
but the lady walked on foot beside the horse, through
thick and thin, unfit for any woman. Yet not content
with this, to add to the disgrace, whenever she lagged
behind, as she must needs do, he would thump her
forward with his spear, and force her to go on, while
she vainly wept, and made piteous lament.

‘When I saw this, as they passed by,” continued
Tristram, ‘I was moved to indignation, and began to
blame him for such cruelty. At this he was enraged,
and disdainfully reviled me, threatening to chastise me
as one would a child. I, no less disdainful, returned
his scornful taunts, whereupon he struck me with his
spear, and I, seeking to avenge myself, threw a slender

370
The Proud Discourteous Knight

dart at him, which struck him, as it seems, or
the heart, so that he quickly died e

Sir Calidore inquired of the lady if this were in-
deed true, and as she could deny nothing, but cleared
Tristram of all blame, then said the Knight—

‘Neither will I charge him with guilt. For what
he spoke, he spoke it for you, Lady; and what he
did, he did it to save himself, against both of whom
that Knight wrought unknightly shame.”

Then turning back to the gallant boy, who had
acquitted himself so well and stoutly, and seeing his
beautiful face, and hearing his wise words, Sir Calidore
was filled with admiration, and felt certain that. he
came of heroic blood. ‘Then, because of the affection
he bore him, he begged the youth to reveal who he was,
“for since the day when I first bore arms,” added the
Knight, “I never saw greater promise in any one.”

Then Tristram replied that he was the son of a
King, although by fate or fortune he had lost his
country and the crown that should be his by right.
He was the only heir of the good King Meliogras of
Cornwall, but his father dying while he was still
a child, his uncle had seized the kingdom. The
widowed Queen, his mother, afraid lest ill should
happen to the boy, sent him away out of the country
of Lyonesse, where he was born, into the land of
Queen Gloriana, and here he had dwelt since the time
he was ten years old.

His days had not been spent in idleness, for hc
had been well trained with many noble companions
in gentle manners and other fitting ways. His chief

371
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

delight was in following the chase, and nothing that
ranged in the green forest was unknown to him. But
now that he was growing older he felt it was time
to employ his strength in a nobler fashion, and he
besought Sir Calidore to make him a Squire, so that
henceforth he might bear arms, and learn to use them
aright.

So Sir Calidore caused him to kneel, and made
him swear faith to his Knight, and truth to all ladies,
and never to be recreant for fear of peril, nor for any-
thing that might befall. So he dubbed him, and called
him his Squire.

Then young Tristram grew full glad and joyous,
and when the time came for Sir Calidore to depart,
he prayed that he might go with him on his adven-
ture, vowing always to serve him faithfully. Sir Cali-
dore rejoiced at his noble heart, and hoped he would
surely prove a doughty Knight, yet for the time he
was obliged to make this answer to him :—

‘Glad would I surely be, my courteous Squire,
to have you with me in my present quest, but I am
bound by a vow which I swore to my Sovereign, that
in fulfilling her behest I would allow no creature to
aid me. For that reason I may not grant what you
so earnestly beg. But since this lady is now quite deso-
late, and needs a safeguard on her way, you would do
well to succour her from fear of danger.”

Tristram gladly accepted this new service, so,
taking a courteous leave, the two parted.

Not long after this, Sir Calidore came upon a
Knight and a lady sitting in the shade of some trees.

372
The Proud Discourteous Knight

Sir Calidore greeted them courteously, and the Knight
invited him to sit down beside them, so that they
might talk over all their adventures. While they







ASQ



were chatting together, the Lady Serena wandered away

into the fields to pluck some flowers. Then suddenly,

from the forest near, the Blatant Beast rushed forth,

and catching up the lady, bore her away in his great
373
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

mouth. Starting up, both Knights at once gave chase,
and Calidore, who was swiftest of foot, overtook the
monster in the midst of his race, and fiercely charging
him, made him leave his prey and take to flight.

Knowing that the Knight was close at hand, Sir
Calidore did not pause to succour the lady, but quickly
followed the brute in his flight. Full many paths and
perils he passed ; over hill and dale, through forest and
plain ; so sharply did he pursue the monster that he never
suffered him to rest, day or night. From the court he
chased him to the city, from the city to the village, from
the village into the country, and from the country back
to remote farms. Thence the Blatant Beast fled into
the open fields, where the herds were keeping the cattle,
and the shepherds were singing to their flocks.

Coridon and Pastorella

As Sir Calidore followed the chase of the Blatant
Beast he came upon a group of shepherds piping to their
flocks. In reply to his questions they answered they had
never seen the creature, and if there were any such they
prayed heaven to keep him far from them. Then one
of them, seeing that Calidore was travel-worn and weary,
offered him such simple food and drink as they had with
them, and the Knight, who was courteous to all men
alike, both the lowly and the high-born, accepted their
gentle offer.

As he sat amongst these rustics he saw seated on a
little hillock, higher than all the rest, a beautiful maiden,

374
<
3 ed
aN
>
Sse
VHS
NG

ret





Xi i NG veo Nw
We R NUN

NY
Wn
en NY A ESSE aA
EEN Cake NAO tit

“Upon a little billocke sbe was placed
igher than all the rest, and round about
Envirowd with a girland, goodly graced
Of lovely lasses.”




Coridon and Pastorella

wearing a crown of flowers tied with silken ribbons.
She was surrounded by the other shepherdesses, as with a
lovely garland, but her beauty far excelled theirs, and all
united in singing the praises and carolling the name of
the “fairest Pastorella.” Not one of all the shepherds
but honoured her, and many also loved her, but most
of all the shepherd Coridon. Yet neither for him nor
for any one else did she care a whit ; her lot was humble,
‘but her mind was high above it.

As Sir Calidore gazed at her and marked her rare
demeanour, which seemed to him far to excel the rank
of a shepherd, and to be worthy of a Prince’s paragon,
all unawares he was caught in the toils of love, from
which no skill of his own could deliver him. So there
he sat still, with no desire to move, although his quest
had gone far before him. He stayed until the flying
day was far spent, and the dews of night warned the
shepherds to hasten home with their flocks.

Then came to them an aged sire, with silver beard and
locks, and carrying a shepherd’s crook. He was always
supposed to be the father of Pastorella, and she indeed
thought it herself. But he was not so, having found her
by chance in the open field as an infant. He took her
home, and cherished her as his own child, for he had none
other, and in course of time she came to be accounted so.

Melibee, for so the good old man was called, seeing
Calidore left all alone and night at hand, invited him to
his simple home, which, although only a mud cottage,
with everything very humble, was yet better to lodge in
than the open fields. The Knight full gladly agreed,
this being his heart’s own wish, and went home with

377
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

Melibee. There he was made heartily welcome by the
honest shepherd and his aged wife, and after the frugal
supper, which they ate with much contentment, Sir Cali-
dore listened half-entranced while Melibee discoursed
on all the joys of a pastoral life. So tempting was the
picture he painted that Calidore resolved to lay aside
for awhile his toilsome quest and the pursuit of glory,
and take a little rest in this peaceful spot. If he were
allowed to share the cabin and the scanty fare he pro-
mised to reward Melibee well, but the good old man
refused the offered gift. of gold.

“If you really wish to try this simple sort of life
that shepherds lead,” he said, ‘‘ make it your own, and
learn our rustic ways for yourself.”

So Sir Calidore dwelt there that night, and many
days after, as long as it pleased him, daily beholding the
fair Pastorella, and all the while growing more deeply
in love with her. He tried to please her by all the
kindly courtesies he could invent, but she, who had
never been accustomed to such strange fashions, fit for
kings and queens, nor had ever seen such knightly ser-

vice, paid small heed to them, and cared more for the
shepherds’ rustic civility than for anything he did.

Sir Calidore, seeing this, thought it best to change
the manner of his appearance. Doffing his bright
armour, he dressed himself in shepherd’s attire, taking
in his hand a crook instead of a steel-headed spear.
Clad thus, he went every day to the fields with Pastor-
ella, and kept her flocks diligently, watching to drive
away the ravenous wolf, so that she could sport and
play as it pleased her.

378
Coridon and Pastorella

Coridon, who for a long time had loved her, and
hoped to gain her love, was greatly troubled, and very
jealous of this stranger. He often complained scowl-
ingly of Pastorella to all the other shepherds, and
whenever he came near Calidore, would frown and bite
his lips, and was ready to devour his own heart with
jealousy. The Knight, on the other hand, was utterly
free from malice or grudging, never showing any sign
of rancour, and often taking an opportunity to praise
Coridon to Pastorella. But the maiden, if ever she
had cared for her uncouth admirer, certainly did so no
longer now that she had seen Calidore.

Once when Calidore was asked to lead the dance
with Pastorella, in his courtesy he took Coridon, and
set him in his place; and when Pastorella gave him
her own flowery garland, he soon took it off and put
it on the head of Coridon.

Another time Coridon challenged Calidore to a
wrestling match, thinking he would surely avenge his
grudge, and easily put his foe to shame, for he was
well practised in this game. But he greatly mistook
Calidore, for the Knight was strong and mightily tough
in sinew, and with one fall he almost broke Coridon’s
neck. Then Pastorella gave the oaken crown to Cali-
dore as his due right, but he who excelled in courtesy
gave it to Coridon, saying he had won it well.

Thus did that gentle Knight bear himself amidst
that rustic throng, so that even they who were his rivals
could not malign him, but must needs praise him; for
courtesy breeds goodwill and favour even amongst the
rudest. So it surely wrought with this fair maiden,

Sug,
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

and in her mind sowed the seeds of perfect love,
which at last, after long trial, brought forth the fruit
of joy and happiness.

But whatever Sir Calidore did to please Pastorella,
Coridon immediately strove to emulate; and if the
Knight succeeded in winning favour, he was frozen
with jealousy.

One day, as they all three went together to the
greenwood to gather strawberries, a dangerous adven-
ture befell them. A tiger rose up out of the wood
and rushed with greedy jaws at Pastorella. Hearing
her cry for help, Coridon ran in haste to rescue her ;
but when he saw the fiend he fled away just as fast in
cowardly fear, holding his own life dearer than his
friend. But Calidore, quickly coming to her aid when
he saw the beast ready to rend his dear lady, ran
at him enraged, instead of being afraid. He had no
weapon but his shepherd’s crook, but with that he
struck the monster so sternly that he fell stunned to
the ground, and then, before he could recover, Sir
Calidore cut off his head, and laid it at the feet of the
terrified maiden.

From that day forth Pastorella grew more and
more fond of the Knight, but Coridon she despised,
because of his cowardice. Then for a long time Sir
Calidore dwelt happily among these shepherd folk,
forgetting his former quest, so full of toil and pain,
and rejoicing in the happy peace of rustic bliss.

But at last malicious fortune, which envies the
long prosperity of lovers, blew up a bitter storm of
adversity.

380
In the Brigands’ Den

In the Brigands’ Den

One day, when Sir Calidore was away hunting in the
woods, a lawless tribe of brigands invaded the country
where the shepherds dwelt, ravaged their houses, mur-
dered the shepherds, and drove away their flocks. Old
Melibee and all his household were led away captive,
and with them also was taken Coridon. In the dead
of night, so that no one might see or rescue them, the
robbers carried their prey to their dwelling. This was
on a little island, so covered with dense brushwood that
there seemed no way for people to pass in or out, or to
find footing in the overgrown grass; for the way was
made underground, through hollow caves that no man
could discover, because of the thick shrubs which hid
them from sight. ‘Through all the inner parts of their
dwelling the darkness of night daily hovered; they
were not lighted by any window or opening in the roof,
but with continual candle-light, which made a dim and
uncertain gloom.

Hither the brigands brought their prisoners, and
kept them under constant watch and ward, meaning, as
soon as they conveniently could, to sell them as slaves
to merchants, who would either keep them in bondage
or sell them again. But the Captain of the brigands
was enchanted with the loveliness of Pastorella, and
determined to keep her for himself. When, therefore,
the other prisoners were brought forward to be sold, so
that the money received for them might be divided
equally among the band, he held back Pastorella, saying

381
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

that she was his prize alone, with whom no one else
had anything to do. Besides, he added, she was now so
weak and wan through illness that she was worth nothing
as merchandise; and then he showed her to them, to
prove how pale and ill she was.

The sight of her wondrous beauty, though now
worn and faded, and only to be dimly seen by candle-
light, so amazed the eyes of the merchants that they
utterly refused to buy any of the other prisoners without
her, and offered to pay large sums of gold. Then the
Captain bade them be silent. He refused to sell the
maiden; they could take the rest if they would—this
one he would keep for himself.

Some of the other chief robbers boldly forbade him
to do this injury, for the maiden, much as it grieved
him, should be sold with the rest of the captives, in
order to increase their price. The Captain again ré-
fused angrily, and, drawing his sword, declared that if
any one dared to lay a hand on her, he should dearly
rue it, and his death should pay the price.

From words they rapidly fell to blows, and, the
candle being soon quenched in the conflict, the fight
raged furiously in the dark. But, first of all, they
killed the captives, lest they should join against the
weaker side or rise against the remnant. Old Meli-
bee and his aged wife were slain, and many others with
them; but Coridon, escaping craftily, crept out of
doors, hidden in the darkness, and fled away as fast as
he could. Unhappy Pastorella was defended all the |
time by the Captain of the brigands, who, more careful
of her safety than of his own, kept his target always

382


















“Their Captaine there they cruelly found kild
And in bis armes the dreary, dying mayod,”



In the Brigands’ Den

stretched over her. At length he was slain, yet, even
in his fall, continued with his extended arms to shelter
Pastorella, who, wounded with the same stroke, fell to
the ground with him.

With the death of the Captain the fray ceased, and
the brigands, lighting fresh candles, made search to see
who was slain, friends and foes. There they found
their Captain cruelly killed, and, in his arms, the dying
maiden ; but, seeing that life still lingered, they busily
applied all their skill to call her soul back to its home,
and so well did they work that at last they restored her
to life. This done, they placed her in charge of one
of the brigands, who kept her in harsh and wretched
thraldom, scarcely allowing her food or rest, or suffer-
ing her wounds to be properly tended.

Sir Calidore, meanwhile, having returned from the
wood, and found the cottage despoiled and his love
reft away, waxed almost mad with grief and rage. To
add to his anguish, there was not a soul of whom he
could inquire anything. He sought the woods, but
could see no man; he sought the plains, but could
hear no tidings. The woods only repeated vain echoes;
the plains were waste and empty.. Where once the
shepherds played their pipes and fed a hundred flocks,
there now he found not one.

At last, as he roamed up and down, he saw a
man coming towards him, who seemed to be some
wretched peasant in ragged clothes, with hair stand-
ing on end, as if he fled from some recent danger,
which still followed close behind. As he came
neat, the Knight saw it was Coridon. Running up

385 2B
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

to him, Sir Calidore asked where were the rest—where
was Pastorella?

Bursting into tears, Coridon told how they had been
seized by the brigands, and carried to their den. He
described how they were to have been sold as slaves, and
the quarrel that had arisen over Pastorella. He told
how the Captain had tried to defend her. “But what
could he do alone against them all?” he added. “He
could not save her; in the end she must surely die. I
only escaped in the uproar and confusion, and it were
better to be dead with them than to see all this place,
where we dwelt together in joy, desolate and waste.”

Calidore was at first almost distracted at hearing
this dreadful news; but presently, recovering himself,
he began to cast about in his mind how he might rescue
Pastorella if she were still alive, or how he should re-
venge her death ; or, if he were too weak to avenge her,
then at least he could die with her.

Therefore, he prayed Coridon, since he knew well
the readiest way into the thieves’ den, that he would
conduct him there. Coridon was still so frightened
that at first he refused; but at last he was persuaded
by Sir Calidore’s entreaties and promises of reward.

So forth they went together, both clad in shepherd’s
dress and carrying their crooks; but Calidore had
secretly armed himself underneath. Then, as they
approached the place, they saw upon a hill, not far
away, some flocks of sheep and some shepherds, to
whom they both agreed to take their way, hoping to
learn some news.

There they found, which they did not expect, the

_ 386
In the Brigands’ Den

self-same flocks which the brigands had stolen away,
with several of the thieves left to look after them.
Coridon knew quite well his own sheep, and, seeing
them, began to weep for pity; but, when he saw the
thieves, his heart failed him, although they were all
asleep. He wanted Calidore to kill them as they slept
and drive away the sheep, but the Knight had another
purpose in view. Waking the brigands, he sat down
beside them, and began to chat of different things,
hoping to find out from them whether Pastorella were
alive or slain. The thieves, in their turn, began to
question Sir Calidore and Coridon, asking what sort
of men they were and whence they came; to which they
replied that they were poor herdsmen who had fled
from their masters, and now sought hire elsewhere.

The thieves, delighted to hear this, offered to pay
them well if they would tend their flocks, for they
themselves were bad herdsmen, they said, not accus-
tomed to watch cattle or pasture sheep, but to foray
the land or scour the sea. Sir Calidore and Coridon
agreed to keep the flocks; so there they stayed all day,
as long as the light lasted.

‘When it grew towards night the robbers took them
to their dens, which they soon got to know quite
well, and where they sought out all the secret passages.
There they found, to their joy and surprise, that Pastor-
ella still lived. Watching their opportunity, one dead
of night, when all the thieves were sound asleep after
a recent foray, Sir Calidore made his way to the Captain’s
den. When he came to the cave he found it fast, but
he assailed the door with irresistible might and burst

387
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

the lock. One of the robbers, awaking at the noise,
ran to the entrance, but the bold Knight easily slew
him. Pastorella, in the meanwhile, was almost dead
with fright, believing it to be another uproar such
as she had lately seen. But when Sir Calidore came
in, and began to call for her, knowing his voice, she
suddenly revived, and her soul was filled with rapture.
No less rejoiced Calidore when he found her, and like
one distracted he caught her in his arms and kissed
her a thousand times.

By this time the hue and cry was raised, and all the
brigands came crowding to the cave; but Calidore stood
in the entry, and slew each man as he advanced, so that
the passage was lined with dead bodies. Then, when
no more could get near him, he rested till the morning,
when he made his way into the open light. Here all
the rest of the brigands were ready waiting for him,
and, fiercely assailing him, fell on him with all their
might. But Calidore, with his raging brand, divided
their thickest troops and scattered them wide. Like a
lion among a herd of deer, so did he fly among them,
hewing and slaying all that came near, so that none
dared face the danger, but fled from his wrath to hide
from death in their caves.

Then, returning to his dear lady, he brought her
forth into the joyous light, and did everything he could
to make her forget the troubles through which she had
passed. From the thieves’ den he took all the spoils
and treasures of which they had robbed other people,
and all the flocks which they had stolen from Melibee
he restored to Coridon.

388
Beast with a Thousand Tongues

The Beast with a Thousand Tongues

Sir Calidore, having rescued Pastorella from the
brigands’ den, took her to the Castle of Belgard, where
the good Sir Bellamour was lord, and there a strange
thing happened.

Years before, Sir Bellamour had secretly married
a beautiful maiden, called Claribel, the daughter of a
rich and powerful man, known by the name of the
“Lord of Many Islands.” Her father had hoped,
because of his great wealth, that his daughter would
marry the Prince of a neighbouring country, and when
he found that she loved Sir Bellamour, he was in such
a rage that he threw them in two deep dungeons, for-
bidding them ever to see each other. When Claribel
was in prison, a little daughter was born to her; but,
fearing lest her father should get hold of it, she en-
trusted it to her handmaid, Melissa, to have it brought
up as a stranger’s child. The trusty damsel carried it
into an empty field, and having kissed and wept over
it, placed it on the ground, and hid herself behind
some bushes near, to see what mortal would take
pity on the poor little infant. At length a shepherd,
who kept his fleecy flocks on the plains around, led
by the infant’s cry, came to the place, and when he
found there the abandoned treasure, he took it up.
and wrapping it in his mantle, bore it home to his
honest wife, who ever afterwards brought it up as her
own child.

Claribel and Bellamour remained a long time in

389
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

>

captivity, till at last the ‘Lord of Many Islands
died, and left them all his possessions. Then the
tide of fortune turned, they were restored to freedom,
and rejoiced in happiness together. They had lived
for a long time im peace and love when Sir Calidore
brought Pastorella to the castle. Here they both
received the heartiest welcome, for Sir Bellamour was
an old friend of Calidore’s, and loved him well; and
Claribel, seeing how weak and wan Pastorella was
after her long captivity, tended her with the greatest
love and care.

Now, it happened that before the handmaiden
parted with the infant she noticed on its breast a little
purple mark, like a rose unfolding its silken leaves.
This same maiden, Melissa, was appointed to wait on
Pastorella, and one morning, when she was helping her
to dress, she noticed on her chest the rosy mark which
she remembered well on the little infant, Claribel’s
daughter. Full of joy, she ran in haste to her mis-
tress, and told her that the beautiful lady was no other
than the little child who had been born in prison.
Then Claribel ran quickly to the stranger maiden,
and finding it was even as Melissa said, she clasped
her in her arms and held her close, weeping softly
and saying, “And do you now live again, my
daughter, and are you still alive whom long I mourned
as dead ?”

Then there was great rejoicing in the Castle of
Belgard.

Meanwhile Sir Calidore was pursuing the quest of
the Blatant Beast, seeking him in every place with

390








“putting bis puissance forth, pursued so bard
That backward be enforced him to fall;
Hnd being down, ere be new belp could call,
‘his shicld be on bim threw, and far down held.”

Beast with a Thousand ‘Tongues

unresting pain and toil, and following him by his
destroying track, for wherever the monster went he
left behind him ruin and devastation.

At last, in a narrow place, Sir Calidore overtook
him, and, fiercely assailing, forced him to turn. Then
the Blatant Beast ran at him with open mouth, huge
and horrible; it was all set with a double row of iron
teeth, and in it were a thousand tongues of every
kind and quality—some were of dogs, that barked day
and night; some of cats that yawled; some of bears
that growled continually; some of tigers that seemed
to grin and snarl at all who passed by; but most of
them were tongues of mortal men, who poured forth
abuse, not caring where nor when; and among them
were mingled here and there the tongues of serpents,
' with three-forked stings, that spat out poison at all
who came within reach, speaking hateful things of
good and bad alike, of high and low, not even sparing
kings or kaisers, but either blotting them with infamy
or biting them with their baneful teeth.

But Calidore, not in the least afraid of this horrid
spectacle, met him with such impetuous might that
he checked his violence and beat him back. Then the
monster, rearing up, ramped upon him with his ravenous
paws, as if his cruel claws would have rent him; but
the Knight, being well on guard, cast his shield between,
and putting forth all his strength, forced him to fall
back; and when he was down, he threw his shield on
him and pinned him to the ground. In vain did the
Beast rage and roar; for the more he strove, the more
firmly the Knight held him, so that he was almost mad

33)
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy

with spite. He grinned, he bit, he scratched, he spat
out venom, and acted like a horrible fiend.

When the monster saw force was of no avail, he
began to use his hundred tongues, and reviled and railed
at the Knight with bitter terms of infamy, weaving in
many a forged lie, whose like Sir Calidore had never
‘heard or thought of; yet for all that he did not let
the creature go, but held him so tight that he nearly
choked him.

At last, when he found his strength failing and his
rage lessening, Sir Calidore took a strong muzzle of the
stoutest iron, made with many a link, with which he
fastened up his mouth, shutting up therein his blas-
phemous tongue, so that he should never more defame
gentle knight or wrong lovely lady; and to this he
tied a great long chain, with which he dragged him’
forth in spite of himself. The hideous Beast chafed
inwardly at these strange bonds, which no one till
then had dared to impose on him; yet he dared not
draw back nor attempt to resist the power of the noble
Calidore, but trembled before him, and followed like
a frightened dog.

All through Faerie Land he followed him thus, as if
he had learnt obedience, so that all the people wherever
he went thronged out of the town to see Sir Calidore
lead the Blatant Beast in bondage, and seeing it were
amazed at the sight; and all such people as he had
formerly wronged rejoiced to see him a captive, and
many wondered at the Beast, but more wondered at
the Knight.

Thus was this monster suppressed and tamed by the

394
Beast with a Thousand Tongues

mastering might of the doughty Calidore, and so for
along time he remained. But at last, either by wicked
fate or the fault of men, he broke his iron chain, and
got again at liberty into the world; and here he still
ranges, barking and biting, sparing no one in his malice,
and doing an infinite deal of mischief wherever he
goes; and since the days of the good Sir Calidore no
man has ever been able to master him.

THE END

Printed by BatuantyNne, Hanson & Co
Edinburgh t7 London
A Selection of

Wells Gardner, Darton ۤ Co.'s

POPULAR BOOKS:

Mr. Gordon Browne’s Fairy Tales from
Grimm.
With Introduction by S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.

A High-Class Gift-Book, with upwards of ‘One Hundred and Fifty
Illustrations from Drawings by Mr. GORDON BROWNE, produced in
the Best Style, and Printed on Superfine Paper.

Large 8vo, in appropriate fancy cloth boards, gilt top, 6s,
[Second Edition.

‘ Altogether delightful. The illustrations are full of charm and sympathy.
Mr. Gordon Browne is particularly successful in the grotesque and fantastic
elements of the stories." —Saturday Review.

‘* Simply inimitable.” —Queen.
‘« A choice volume of attractive form, with charming illustrations abounding

in humour . . . worthy to rank as one of the leading editions of our familiar
fairy tales.”"—Church Times.

‘* The prettiest of all fairy books this year. . . . This is a fairy book beyond
reproach.” —Daily Graphic.

‘No more acceptable edition of some of Grimm's Stories has been pub-
lished.” —Standard.

‘* Of new editions of these old favourites the palm must be given, we think,
to that collection of ‘Fairy Tales from Grimm,’ to which Mr. Baring-Gould
stands sponsor. . . . Even with the memory of that edition of Grimm, which
Mr. Crane illustrated years ago, we do not think that a better edition than
this has appeared,’ —Review of Reviews.

‘*Charming.”— World.

‘‘ We have nothing but praise for this collection . . . The youngster who is
not satisfied with his gift must be hard to please." —Sketch.



8 Paternoster Bulldings, London; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.’s Popular Books.



Sweetheart Travellers.
A CHILD’s Book FOR CHILDREN, FOR WOMEN, AND FOR MEN.

By S. R. CROCKETT, Author of ‘‘ The Lilac Sunbonnet,” ‘‘ The

Raiders,” “The Stickit Minister,” &c. [Third Edition.
With numerous Illustrations by GORDON BRowngE, R.I., and

W. H. C. GRooME.

Large 8vo, printed on superfine paper, cloth boards, gilt top, 6s.

A LARGE-PAPER Edition, numbered and signed by Author and
Artists, 31s. 6d. net.

‘« Had anyone ever been disinclined to believe in Mr. Crockett’s genius, he
must have recanted and repented in sackcloth and ashes after enjoying ‘ Sweet-
heart Travellers.’ It is the rarest of all rarities, and veritably a child's book
for children, as well as for women and men. It is seldom, indeed, that the
reviewer has the opportunity of bestowing unstinted praise, with the feeling
that the laudation is, nevertheless, inadequate. ‘Sweetheart Travellers’ is
instinct with drollery; it continually strikes the softest notes of tenderest pathos,
like some sweet, old-fashioned nursery melody, and it must make the most
hardened bachelor feel somethins of the pleasures he has missed in living
mateless and childless.” — 7zmes.

‘“A more delightful book for young, old, and middle-aged it is scarcely
possible to conceive.” —Z7uth.

“It shows Mr. Crockett in quite a new light, as one who not only loves and
understands children, but knows how to write about them.”—Zdzcational
Review.

‘*Mr. Crockett is to be envied, for no one could hope for happier days than
those which he describes among the braes and beeches of his native Wigtown,
or along the mountains of North Wales ‘’panioned’ by a prattling philosopher.
We confess to having fallen under the spell of these delightful chronicles, which
we heartily believe are better than anything Mr. Crockett could have invented.
The illustrations are just what was wanted to make this one of the most
attractive books about children.”—Pal/ Mall Gazette.

‘‘Mr. Crockett must be credited with one of the most pronounced successes
of the season.” — World.

‘One of the daintiest and most charming of gift-books.""—Sco¢sman.

An Illustrated Edition of the Two Masterpieces by DE LA MOTTE
FOUGUE.

Sintram and his Companions, and Undine.

With numerous Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE, R.I., and
‘an Introduction by CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.

Large ae printed on superfine paper, ePpropriatc cloth boards, gilt
top,

This new volume is uniform in size and style with Mr. Gordon
Browne’s other illustrated volumes.



8 Paternoster Buildings, London ; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.’s Popular Books.



National Rhymes of the Nursery.

Numerous Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE, R.I.

With Introduction by Professor GEORGE SAINTSBURY.

Large 8vo, printed on superfine paper, fancy cloth boards, gilt top,
6s.

This volume will be found to contain all the popular favourites, and is
likely to prove a most acceptable gift to any family circle.

There are over 150 Illustrations from drawings by Mr. GORDON
BROWNE, illustrating over 250 Rhymes. Z

‘ The prettiest and most complete collection of this kind that we have seen.”
-— Westminster Gazette.

“Tt is impossible to praise the volume too highly.”"—Black and White.

‘A charming collection." —Blackwood's Magazine.

“No well-regulated household should be without ‘this nursery classic. Mr.
Gordon Browne's illustrations are exquisite.” —Cage Argus.

A Princess of the Gutter.
By L. T. MEADE, Author of ‘‘ The Medicine Woman,” “ A Young
Mutineer,” &c.
Large crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s. [2nd Edition.
‘One of the best books of the season is ‘A Princess of the Guttér,’ by

L. T. Meade, a refined and fascinating tale of London life. It might almost
shave been written by Sir Walter Besant.”— Literary World.

‘«« A Princess of the Gutter,’ by L. T. Meade, is the thrilling and fascinating
narrative of a philanthropic mission undertaken in East Londen by a courageous
young Girton graduate, and carried out with an intelligent persistence and
‘splendid self-abnegation that will not be denied or delayed, however formidable
‘tthe obstacles hindering the achievement of their purpose. . . Mrs. Meade in
her preface informs us that this truly heroic character is not a creature of her
imagination, but has been ‘sketched from a living original.’ We are glad to
know that such a noble and chivalric woman has her being among the toilers
.of the overwrought East End, and trust that her good deeds have not gone
cunrewarded.” — Dazly Telegraph. i

Three Girls in a Flat.
By ETHEL F.-HEDDLE, Author of ‘ Prue’s Father,” ‘‘ Martin
Redfern’s Oath,” &c. :
Illustrated by GoRDON Browne, R.I.
Large crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s.

8 Paternoster Buildings, London ; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.’s Popular Books.



Prince Boohoo and Little Smuts.
By Prebendary HARRY JONES.
Illustrated by GORDON BrownE, R.I. 3
Large crown 8vo, 6s.
An irresistibly funny book.

My Lost Manuscript. THE ROMANCE OF A SCHOOL.
By MAGGIE SYMINGTON, Author of ‘* Working to Win,” ‘‘ Two
Silver Keys,” &c.
With Etched Title and Frontispiece.

Large crown 8vo, extra cloth, 6s.
‘* A powerful, original, and most interesting story."—CAurch Bells.

The Child and his Book.

Some Account of the History and Progress of Children’s Literature

in England. ;
By Mrs. E. M. FIELD, Author of ‘‘ Ethne,” “ Mixed Pickles,” &c.
Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s. [2nd Edition.

“It is a series of studies, well worth careful reading, of a subject of the
greatest importance and interest; and the studies are made more valuable by
being the work of a very thoughtful and accomplished writer.” —Spectator,

“Very ably executed. . .. The book is a valuable contribution to the
history of education, and we could have wished it to have been twice the size,
so curious and interesting is the information.” —Guardian.

Social Aims.
By the Right Hon. the EARL and the COUNTESS OF

Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s.

‘«*Social Aims” will not want sympathetic readers. The Earl of Meath
belongs to that handful of devoted philanthropists-whose views are coloured
with no political animus, and who realize how much more is done for mankind
by pegging away. unobtrusively at social reform than by pitting class against
class.” —TZ%mes.



8 Paternoster Buildings, London ; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner. Darton & Co.’s Popular Books.



Ethne.

BEING A TRUTHFUL HISTORIE OF THE GREAT AND FINAL
SETTLEMENT OF IRELAND BY OLIVER CROMWELL, AND
CERTAIN OTHER NOTEWORTHY EVENTS, FROM THE JOURNALS
OF ETHNE O’CONNOR AND OF ROGER STANDFAST, CAPTAIN
IN THE ARMY OF THE COMMONS OF ENGLAND. g

“Edited by Mrs. E. M. FIELD. Etched Title and Frontispiece.
Large crown 8vo, appropriate cloth boards, 6s. [Third Edition.

‘This is, without exaggeration, one of the most beautiful stories of ancient
Irish life that has ever come under our notice. The character of Ethne is a
masterpiece.” —Puédlic Opinion.

“‘Mingled with a certain amount of romance, the story is full of historical
detail, skilfully woven together; the interest is maintained throughout. The
reader, whatever his religious views, is bound to be charmed with the character
of Ethne. . . . We can recommend the book as being of grea‘ merit.”—
Church Times.

Eve’s Paradise.
By Mrs. BRAY, Author of ‘‘ Ten of Them,” ‘‘ A Troublesome Tris.”
&c. With Etched Frontispiece and Title-page.
Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s, :

‘Mrs. Bray's ‘Eve's Paradise’ is certainly one of the few really original
stories that have been issued this Christmas, and should command a very wide
circulation. The idea of bringing up a child, till she is nearly fourteen, in
absolute seclusion and isolation from the rest of her kind and in utter ignorance,
has before now been imagined by philosophers, but rarely, if ever, taken as
the motive of a tale. Here, however, Mrs. Bray has used the situation with
wonderful skill; and the contrast between Eve, the victim of the Educationa
theories, and the vigorous and lively personality of little Elsie, who has been
brought up in the ordinary fashion, is impressively conceived and carried out.

- The subordinate parts of the book are managed with equal ease and skill,
and the character-drawing throughout is at once vividly and definitely delin-
eated.” The story must certainly rank as one of the best of the year, and will
no doubt take a permanent place as a study of child character on the same
shelf as ‘ Misunderstood’ or ‘ Little Lord Fauntleroy.’""—cclesiastical Gazette,

‘‘A clever study of a little girl bred up to be absolutely ignorant, not only
of religion, but of life. . . . The gradual awakening, chiefly through the contact
of a very imperfect but ordinarily brought-up child, is very interesting.”—
Monthly Packet.

‘«The element of humour is contributed by Elsie, whose naughtinesses are
delightful. . . . Asa study of character, and as shewing wherein true Church
education consists, it should be suggestive and helpful to elder persons."—
Church Bells.





8 Paternoster Buildings, London; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster,
20
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.’s Popular Books.

Sa SR eT

The National Churches.

1.—Germany. By the Rev.
S. BaRING-GOULD, M.A.,
Author of ‘ Mehalah,”
“Germany Past and Pre-
sent,” &c. With Two Maps.
Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 6s.
[2d Edition.
Il.—Spain. By Rev. FREDK.
Meyrick, M.A.,: Preben-
dary of Lincoln. With Map.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Iil.—Ireland. By the Rev.
Tuomas OLDEN, M.A.,
Vicar of Ballyclough. With
Two Maps. Crown 8vo,
cloth boards, 6s.
[2nd Edition.
1V.—The Netherlands. By
the Rev. P. H. DITCH-
FIELD, M.A. With Two
Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth
boards, 6s.

Scotland. By the Very
Rev. H. M. Luckock,
D.D., Dean of Lichfield.
With Two Maps. Crown
8vo, cloth boards, 6s.
Vi.—Italy. By the Rev. A.
R. PENNINGTON, M.A.,
Canon of Lincoln. With
Two Maps. Crown 8vo,
cloth boards, 6s.
VII.—France. By the Rev. R.
TRAVERS SMITH, D.D.,
Canon of St. Patrick’s,
Dublin. With Two Maps.
Crown 8vo, cloth boards,
6s.
Vill.—America. By the Right
Rev. LEIGHTON COLEMAN,
S.T.D., LL.D., Bishop of

V.



Delaware, U.S.A. With
Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth
boards, 6s.

“The general idea of the series is excellent.” —Guardian.
“The scheme excites our interest.” —Saturday Review.

Life and Times of Archbishop Ussher.
By the Rev. J. A. CARR, LL.D.
With Portrait and a Plan of Dublin.
Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 10s, 6d.

“Dr, Carr’s delineation of the career and character of Ussher is almost a
model of what biography ought to be, such is its impartiality, its balance, and
its pleasantness and freshness of narration. . . . It is impossible to take leave
of Dr. Carr's admirable work without a word of hearty congratulation on the
praiseworthy manner in which he has accomplished a difficult task.” —Morning
Post.

“The work of a careful reader, and the result of much patient effort... .
The print and paper of the book would have delighted Ussher himself even
when his eyes waxed dim. It can be read with one candle or in the gloom of
the Metropolitan Railway. Such print is the ruin of the spectacle trade, and
makes the oculist despair of an honest living.” —Saturday Review.



8 Paternoster Buildings, London; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner, Darton & @Co.’s Popular Books.



Work in Great Cities.

Six Lectures on Pastoral Theology, delivered in the Divinity School,
Cambridge.

By the Rev. A. F. WINNINGTON INGRAM, M.A., Head of the
Oxford House, and Rector of Bethnal Green, Chaplain to the Arch-
bishop of York and the Bishop of St. Albans.

Introduction by the Rev. HERBERT E. RYLE, D.D., Hulsean
Professor of Divinity, Cambridge.
Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 3s. 6d. : [2nd Edition.

“ We are not going to humour the people who like to pick up all they care
to know about a book by studying reviews made up of extracts from its liveliest
parts, and there are scores of passages which tempt reproduction, but we
unhesitatingly tell all young workers, lay and clerical, that whether their work
lies in poor districts or ‘ well-to-do,’ amongst men or lads, be it social or didactic,
they are doing themselves and the work great injustice so long as they remain
unacquainted with Mr. Ingram's epigrammatic, sensible, experienced talk."—
Church Times.

“ Few individuals are more competent to deal with the subject of the art of
winning souls than the head of Oxford House and also Rector of Bethnal Green.
We join the Professor in the wish that this little book may be in the hands of
candidates for Orders and of those having the preparation of them. But we
think it ought to be in the hands of every vicar and curate. . . . Nota little of
the charm in the telling of the stories which illustrate the difficulties of the work
lies in the vein of humour with which the seriousness of the matter is relieved.
Brief and pointed paragraphs under various heads of work, bristling with witty
sayings, and enlivened by anecdote, display at once its needs and encourage-
ments. London scenes in the parks, in the slums, and at the meetings are
depicted in graphic detail with a spice of smart sayings or a commonsense
induction of what is wanted. The book has the right ring ; every suggestion
is weighted with the reality and importance of the work, is inspired by the
highest ideals, and is saturated with the absorbing interest which the lecturer
feels in his work, and the confidence with which his view of its possibilities
awakens in the reader.” —Rock.

“We should like to give a word of cordial welcome to a little book entitled
‘Work in Great Cities,’ by Mr. Ingram, the head of the Oxford House. The
volume contains a short series of lectures on Pastoral Theology, delivered in
the Divinity School at Cambridge last year. It is most earnest!y to be desired
that these lectures should be obtained and be read through by all candidates
for Holy Orders, especially those likely to settle in ‘great cities,’ and by many
others. They are full of admirably practical counsel, the fruit of personal
experience, natural wisdom, and sympathetic insight into and study of human
nature. Mr. Ingram is a strong High Churchman, but his references to Non-
conformists are in the best possible spirit. It isa matter for deep congratulation
that the Oxford House is under the inspiration of such a man."— Spectator.



8 Paternoster Buildings, London; 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Wells Gardner, Darton & Co.’s Popular Books,





Recollections of Persons and Events.
By CANON PENNINGTON.
With Portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 4s,

A record of Religious, Political, Literary, and Social Life, in the
earlier years of this century. Canon: Pennington gives, from personal
recollection, a graphic account of what was known as ‘‘the Golden
Age of Clapham,” when this old-fashioned suburb of London was the
centre of a widely-known religious and literary coterie.

Looking Upward.
Papers INTRODUCTORY TO THE STUDY OF SOCIAL QUESTIONS
FROM A RELIGIOUS PoINT OF VIEW.

By the Rev. the Hon. JAMES ADDERLEY, M.A., Author of
“The New Floreat.”

Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 3s. 6d. [2d Edition.

‘Looking Upward,’ by the Rev. James Adderley, is a volume of papers
on the attitude of the clergy towards social reform, which is of real value as
the best expression with which we have met of the attitude of those of the High
Church clergy who have joined in a recent movement which is commonly spoken
of as a revival of Christian Socialism. A great deal of the volume is addressed
to the clergy, and a great deal to the rich, ‘thoughtful,’ or careless. No good
Christian.can reject his teaching as unnecessary, and it is given with a simplicity
and truth that goes to the reader's heart.” —At¢heneum.

‘*Mr. Adderley’s Socialism does not begin and end in worship of the great
god Jargon, but is shown in real practice, and therefore commands our sym-
pathy. We commend his writings most cordially, and hope sincerely that of
the many who read these well-considered statements of many a pressing social
problem, there may be at least a few who will receive their call thereby to
entire service in community life among the poor of all ranks, endowed and
unendowed."—Church Times.

‘“We can give hearty praise to all Mr. Adderley-says of the relation of the
Church to the individual. The Church has ever been the real mother of man-
kind, recognising no difference between men in God's sight, making her laws
of unselfishness, truth, and justice alike for rich and poor., Uniting in her
magnificent purpose individualism and collectivism, she builds up the most
perfect brotherhood through the individual perfection of her members, and it
is this individual perfection that alone produces the perfect Socialism. Let
Mr. Adderley continue to preach this in season and out of season, and Christian
Socialism will become synonymous with the Christian Church.” —Guardian.

‘‘A vigorous treatment of what may be termed Christian sociology, from one
who certainly has a moral right, derived from hard experience and self-denial
second to none, to speak on this theme.’’—Dazly Chronicle. .

8 Paternoster Buildings, London. 44 Victoria Street, Westminster.
Sir
ear
BO tae





«