The sight whereof so throughly him dismay'd, That naught but death before his eyes he saw, And ever burning wrath before him laid, By righteous sentence of th' Almighty's law. Then gan the villain him to overcraw, [fire, And brought unto him swords, ropes, poison, And all that might him to perdition draw; And bade him choose, what death he would desire: [God's ire. For death was due to him, that had provok'd

But whenas none of them he saw him take,
He to him raught a dagger sharp and keen,
And gave it him in hand: his hand did quake
And tremble like a leaf of aspen green,
And troubled blood through his pale face was

seen

To come and go, with tidings from the heart,
As it a running messenger had been.
At last, resolv'd to work his final smart,
He lifted up his hand, that back again did start.

Which whenas Una saw, through every vein
The curdled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swoon: but, soon reliv'd again,
Out of his hand she snatch'd the curséd knife,
And threw it to the ground, enragéd rife,
And to him said; "Fie, fie, faint-hearted
Knight,

What meanest thou by this reproachful strife? Is this the battle, which thou vaunt'st to fight With that fire-mouthéd dragon, horrible and bright?

Or from the field most cowardly doth fly!
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gainéd victory:
If any strength we have, it is to ill;
But all the good is God's, both power and eke will.

By that which lately happ'ned, Una saw
That this her Knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his sinews waxen weak and raw,
Through long imprisonment, and hard con-
straint,

Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was unfit for bloody fight.
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he cheeren might,
Till he recover'd had his late decayéd plight.

There was an ancient house not far away, Renown'd throughout the world for sacred lore And pure unspotted life: so well, they say, It govern'd was, and guided evermore, Through wisdom of a matron grave and hoar; Whose only joy was to relieve the needs Of wretched souls, and help the helpless poor: All night she spent in bidding of her beads, And all the day in doing good and godly deeds.

Dame Cælia men did her call, as thought From heav'n to come, or thither to arise; The mother of three daughters, well upbrought In goodly thewes, and godly exercise: The eldest two, most sober, chaste, and wise, Fidelia and Speranza, virgins were; [nise; Though spous'd, yet wanting wedlock's solemBut fair Charissa to a lovely fere Was linkéd, and by him had many pledges dear.

Arrivéd there, the door they find fast lock'd; For it was warely watchéd night and day, For fear of many foes; but, when they knock'd, The porter open'd unto them straightway. He was an aged sire, all hoary gray, With looks full lowly cast, and gait full slow, Wont on a staff his feeble steps to stay, Hight Humiltà. They pass in, stooping low; For strait and narrow was the way which he did show.

Each goodly thing is hardest to begin; But, enter'd in, a spacious court they see, Both plain and pleasant to be walked in; Where them does meet a franklin fair and free, And entertains with comely courteous glee; His name was Zeal, that him right well became : For in his speeches and behavior he Did labor lively to express the same, [came. And gladly did them guide, till to the hall they

There fairly them receives a gentle squire, Of mild demeanour and rare courtesy, Right cleanly clad in comely sad attire: In word and deed that show'd great modesty, And knew his good to all of each degree; Hight Reverence: He them with speeches meet Does fair entreat; no courting nicety, But simple, true, and eke unfeignéd sweet, As might become a squire so great persons to greet.

1 "Fidelia," etc., are, of course, our old friends, Faith, Hope, and Charity.

And afterwards them to his dame he leads,
That aged dame, the lady of the place,
Who all this while was busy at her beads;
Which done, she up arose with seemly grace,
And toward them full matronly did pace.
Where, when that fairest Una she beheld,
Whom well she knew to spring from heav'nly

race,

Her heart with joy unwonted inly swell'd, As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld:

And, her embracing, said; "O happy earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet do ever tread!
Most virtuous virgin, born of heav'nly birth,
That, to redeem thy woeful parents' head
From tyrant's rage and ever-dying dread,
Hast wandered through the world now long a
day,

Yet ceasest not thy weary soles to lead;
What grace hath thee now hither brought this
way?

Or do thy feeble feet unweeting hither stray?

"Strange thing it is an errant knight to see
Here in this place; or any other wight,
That hither turns his steps: so few there be,
That choose the narrow path, or seek the right!
All keep the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go astray,
And be partakers of their evil plight,
Than with a few to walk the rightest way:

O foolish men, why haste ye to your own decay?”.

"Thy self to see, and tiréd limbs to rest, O matron sage," quoth she, "I hither came; And this good Knight his way with me addrest, Led with thy praises, and broad-blazéd fame, That up to heav'n is blown." The ancient dame

Him goodly greeted in her modest guise, And entertain'd them both, as best became, With all the court'sies that she could devise, Ne wanted aught to shew her bounteous or wise.

Thus as they gan of sundry things devise, Lo! two most goodly virgins came in place, Ylinked arm in arm, in lovely wise; With countenance demure, and modest grace, They number'd even steps and equal pace: Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hight, Like sunny beams threw from her crystal face That could have daz'd the rash beholder's sight, [light. And round about her head did shine like heaven's

She was arrayéd all in lily white,

And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fill'd up to the height,
In which a serpent did himself enfold,
That horror made to all that did behold;
But she no whit did change her constant mood:
And in her other hand she fast did hold

A book, that was both sign'd and seal'd with blood; [stood. Wherein dark things were writ, hard to be under

1 "Cup; " sacramental, which, in primitive ages, was filled with wine and water.

* "Serpent; " perhaps Satan, drowned in the cup.

Her younger sister, that Speranza hight, Was clad in blue, that her beseemed well; Not all so cheerful seeméd she of sight, As was her sister; whether dread did dwell Or anguish in her heart, is hard to tell: Upon her arm a silver anchor lay, Whereon she leanéd ever, as befell; And ever up to heav'n, as she did pray, Her steadfast eyes were bent, ne swervéd other way.

They, seeing Una, towards her gan wend, Who them encounters with like courtesy; Many kind speeches they between them spend, And greatly joy each other for to see: Then to the Knight with shamefac'd modesty They turn themselves, at Una's meek request, And him salute with well beseeming glee; Who fair them quites, as him beseeméd best, And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest. Then Una thus; "But she, your sister dear, The dear Charissa, where is she become? Or wants she health, or busy is elsewhere?" "Ah! no," said they, "but forth she may not

Dry-shod to pass she parts the floods in tway; And eke huge mountains from their native

seat

She would command themselves to bear away, And throw in raging sea with roaring threat: Almighty God her gave such pow'r and puissance great.

The faithful Knight now grew in little space, By hearing her, and by her sisters' lore, To such perfection of all heav'nly grace, That wretched world he gan for to abhor, And mortal life gan loathe as thing forlore, Griev'd with remembrance of his wicked ways, And prick'd with anguish of his sins so sore, That he desir'd to end his wretched days: So much the dart of sinful guilt the soul dismays!

And made him pray both early and eke late: And ever, as superfluous flesh did rot, Amendment ready still at hand did wait, To pluck it out with pincers fiery hot, That soon in him was left no one corrupted jot.

And bitter Penance, with an iron whip,
Was wont him once to disple every day:
And sharp Remorse his heart did prick and nip,
That drops of blood thence like a well did play:
And sad Repentance uséd to embay
His body in salt water smarting sore,
The filthy blots of sin to wash away.

So in short space they did to health restore The man that would not live, but erst lay at death's door.

In which his torment often was so great, That, like a lion, he would cry and roar; And rend his flesh; and his own sinews eat. His own dear Una, hearing evermore His rueful shrieks and groanings, often tore Her guiltless garments and her golden hair, For pity of his pain and anguish sore: Yet all with patience wisely she did bear; For well she wist his crime could else be never clear.

Whom, thus recover'd by wise Patience
And true Repentance, they to Una brought;
Who, joyous of his curéd conscience,
Him dearly kiss'd, and fairly eke besought
Himself to cherish, and consuming thought
To put away out of his careful breast.

By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought, Was waxen strong, and left her fruitful nest: To her fair Una brought this unacquainted guest.

She was a woman in her freshest age,
Of wondrous beauty, and of bounty rare,
With goodly grace and comely personage,
That was on earth not easy to compare;
Full of great love; but Cupid's wanton snare
As hell she hated; chaste in work and will;
Her neck and breasts were ever open bare,
That aye thereof her babes might suck their
fill;

The rest was all in yellow robes arrayéd still.

A multitude of babes about her hung,
Playing their sports, that joy'd her to behold;
Whom still she fed, whiles they were weak and

young,

But thrust them forth still as they waxed old: And on her head she wore a tire of gold, Adorn'd with gems and owches wondrous fair, Whose passing price uneath was to be told: And by her side there sat a gentle pair Of turtle doves, she sitting in an iv'ry chair.

The Knight and Una ent'ring, fair her greet,
And bid her joy of that her happy brood;
Who them requites with court'sies seeming
meet,

And entertains with friendly cheerful mood.
Then Una her besought, to be so good
As in her virtuous rules to school her Knight,
Now after all his torment well withstood

In that sad house of Penance, where his sprite Had past the pains of hell and long-enduring night.

She was right joyous of her just request;
And, taking by the hand that Faerie's son,
Gan him instruct in every good behest,
Of Love; and Righteousness; and Well to
done;

And wrath and hatred warily to shun,

That drew on men God's hatred and his wrath, And many souls in dolours had fordone : In which when him she well instructed hath, From thence to heav'n she teacheth him the ready path.

Wherein his weaker wand'ring steps to guide,
An ancient matron she to her does call,
Whose sober looks her wisdom well descryde;
Her name was Mercy; well known over all
To be both gracious and eke liberal:
To whom the careful charge of him she gave,
To lead aright, that he should never fall

In all his ways through this wide worldës wave; That mercy in the end his righteous soul might

save.

The godly matron by the hand him bears Forth from her presence, by a narrow way, Scatter'd with bushy thorns and ragged brears, Which still before him she remov'd away, That nothing might his ready passage stay: And ever when his feet encumber'd were, Or gan to shrink, or from the right to stray, She held him fast, and firmly did upbear; As careful nurse her child, from falling oft does

rear.

Eftsoons unto a holy hospital,

That was foreby the way, she did him bring;
In which seven bead-men, that had vowed all
Their life to service of high heav'n's King,
Did spend their days in doing godly thing:
Their gates to all were open evermore,
That by the weary way were travelling;
And one sat waiting ever them before,

To call in comers-by, that needy were and pore.

The first of them, that eldest was and best, Of all the house had charge and government, As guardian and steward of the rest: His office was to give entertainment And lodging unto all that came and went; Not unto such as could him feast again, And double quite for that he on them spent ; But such, as want of harbor did constrain: Those for God's sake his duty was to entertain.

The second was as alm'ner of the place:
His office was the hungry for to feed,
And thirsty give to drink; a work of grace:
He fear'd not once himself to be in need,
Ne car'd to hoard for those whom he did
breed:

The grace of God he laid up still in store,
Which as a stock he left unto his seed:
He had enough; what need him care for more?
And had he less, yet some he would give to the
pore.

The third had of their wardrobe custody,

In which were not rich tires, nor garments gay, The plumes of pride, and wings of vanity, But clothes meet to keep keen cold away,

And naked nature seemly to array; With which bare wretched wights he daily clad, The images of God in earthly clay; And, if that no spare clothes to give he had, His own coat he would cut, and it distribute glad.

The fourth appointed by his office was Poor pris'ners to relieve with gracious aid, And captives to redeem with price of brass From Turks and Saracens, which them had stay'd; [weigh'd, And though they faulty were, yet well he That God to us forgiveth every hour [laid; Much more than that why they in bands were And He, that harrow'd hell with heavy stowre, The faulty souls from thence brought to his heavenly bow'r.

"Yet, since thou bidst, thy pleasure shall be done.

Then come, Thou man of earth, and see the way, That never yet was seen of Faerie's son. That never leads the traveller astray, But, after labors long and sad delay, Brings them to joyous rest and endless bliss. But first thou must a season fast and pray, Till from her bands the sprite assoiléd1 is, And haye her strength recur'd 2 from frail infirmities."

That done, he leads him to the highest mount;
Such one as that same mighty Man of God,
That blood-red billows like a walléd front
On either side disparted with his rod,
Till that his army dry-foot through them
yod,3

Dwelt forty days upon; where, writ in stone
With bloody letters by the hand of God,
The bitter doom of death and baleful moan
He did receive, whiles flashing fire about him
shone:

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full high, Adorn'd with fruitful olives all around,

Is, as it were for endless memory

Of that dear Lord who oft thereon was found,
For ever with a flow'ring garland crown'd:
Or like that pleasant mount, that is for aye
Through famous poets' verse each where re-
nown'd,

On which the thrice three learned Ladies 4 play Their heavenly notes, and make full many a lovely lay.

From thence, far off he unto him did show
A little path, that was both steep and long,
Which to a goodly city led his view;

Whose walls and towers were builded high and

strong

Of pearl and precious stone, that earthly tongue Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell; Too high a ditty for my simple song! The City of the Great King hight it well, Wherein eternal peace and happiness doth dwell.

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see The blessed angels to and fro descend From highest heav'n in gladsome company, And with great joy into that city wend, As commonly as friend does with his friend. Whereat he wonder'd much, and gan enquere, What stately building durst so high extend Her lofty tow'rs unto the starry sphere, And what unknowen nation there empeopled

were.

"Fair Knight," quoth he, " Hierusalem that is, The New Hierusalem, that God has built For those to dwell in, that are chosen his, His chosen people purg'd from sinful guilt With precious blood, which cruelly was spilt On cursed tree, of that unspotted Lamb, That for the sins of all the world was kilt: Now are they saints all in that city same, More dear unto their God than younglings to their dam."

1 Absolved. 2 Recovered. • Passed. 4 The Muses.