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Cant VI FAERIE QVEENE 99
Perdie, then is it fit for me (said he)
That am, I weene, most wretched man aliue,
Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see,
And dying daily, daily yet reuiue
O Attn, helpe to me last death to giue
The varlet at his plaint was grieued so sore,
That his deepe wounded hart in two did riue,
And hisowne health remembring now no more,
Did follow that ensample, which he blam'dafore
46
Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd,
(So Loue the dread of daunger doth despise)
And of him catching hold him strongly stayd
From drowning But more happie he, then wise
Of that seas nature did him not auise
The waues thereof so slow and sluggish were,
Engrost with mud, which did them foule agnse,
That euery weightie thing they did vpbeare,
Ne ought mote euer sinke downe to the bottome
there
47
Whiles thus they strugled in that idle waue,
And stroue in vame, the one himself e to drowne,
The other both from drowning for to saue,
Lo, to that shore one in an auncient gowne,
Whose hoarie locks great grauitie did crowne,
Holding in hand a goodly arming sword,
By fortune came, led with the troublous sowne
Where drenched deepe he found in thatdull ford
The carefull seruant, striuing with his raging
Lord
48
Him Attn spying, knew right well of yore,
50
That cursed man, that cruell feend of hell,
Furor; oh Furor hath me thus bedight
His deadly wounds within my liuers swell,
And his whot fire burnes in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through hismfernail brond of spight,
Sith late with him I batteil vaine would boste,
That now I weene louts dreaded thunder light
Does scorchnot halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste
In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste
51
Which when as Archimago heard, his griefe
He knew right well, and him attonce disarmd
Then searcht his secret wounds, and made a
priefe
Of euery place, that was with brusmg harmd,
Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd
Which done, he balmes and herbes thereto
applyde,
And euermore with mighty spels them charmd,
That in short space he has them qualifyde,
And him restor'd to health, that would haue
algates dyde
Cant. VII
Guyonfindes Mammon in a delue,
Sunning his threasure hore
Is by him tempted, and kd dome,
To see his secret store
And loudly cald, Helpe helpe, O Archimage,
To saue my Lord, in wretched plight forlore,
Helpe with thy hand,or with thy counsell sage
Weake hands,butcounsell is most strongmage
Him when the old man saw, he wondred sore,
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage
Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more
Then pittie, he in hast approched to the shore
49
And cald, Pyrochles, what is this, I see ?
I
As Pilot well expert in perilous waue,
That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,
When foggy mistes, or cloudy tempests haue
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,
And couer'd heauen with hideous drenment,
Vpon his card and compas firmes his eye,
The maisters of his long experiment,
And to them does the steddy helme apply,
Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly
2
What hellish furie hath at earst thee hent ? So Guyon hauing lost his trusty guide,
Furious euer I thee knew to bee,
Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
Yet neuer in this straunge astonishment Yet on his way, of none accompanide,
These flames, these flames (he cryde) do me And euermore himselfe with comfort feedes,
torment
Of his owne vertues,and prayse worthy deedes
What flames (quoth he) when I thee presentsee, So long he yode, yet no aduenture found,
In daunger rather to be drent, then brent ? Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes
Harrow, the flames, which me consume (said For st'll he traueild through wide wastfull
hee)
ground, [around
Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowels bee That nought but desert wildernesse shew'd all