III. Upon a great adventure he was bond, That greatest Gloriana to him gave, IV. A lovely ladie rode him faire beside, V. So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore; Till that infernall feend with foule uprore VI. Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag, That lasie seemd, in being ever last, Or wearied with bearing of her bag Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast, That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain ; VII. Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand, A shadie grove not farr away they spide, VIII. And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, Joying to heare the birds sweete harmony, Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred, Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy, The sayling pine; the cedar proud and tall ; The vine-propp elme; the poplar never dry; The builder oake, sole king of forrests all; The aspine good for staves; the cypresse funerall; IX. The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours The fruitfull olive; and the platane round; Χ. Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, So many pathes, so many turnings seene, That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been. ΧΙ. At last resolving forward still to fare, Which when by tract they hunted had throughout, XII. "Be well aware," quoth then that ladie milde, "Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke: The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde, Breedes dreadfull doubts: oft fire is without smoke, And perill without show: therefore your stroke, Sir knight, with-hold, till further tryall made." "Ah ladie," sayd he, "shame were to revoke The forward footing for an hidden shade: Vertue gives her selfe light through darknesse for to wade." XIII. "Yea but," quoth she, "the perill of this place I better wot than you: though nowe too late : To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate. This is the wandring wood, this Errours den, A monster vile, whom God and man does hate, Therefore I read beware." "Fly, fly," quoth then The feareful dwarfe, “This is no place for living men." XIV. But, full of fire and greedy hardiment, But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine, XV. And, as she lay upon the durtie ground, Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone, XVI. Their dam upstart out of her den effraide, And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe; For light she hated as the deadly bale, Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine, Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine. XVII. Which when the valiant elfe perceiv'd, he lept As lyon fierce upon the flying pray, And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept From turning backe, and forced her to stay: Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray, And turning fierce her speckled taile advaunst, Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay; Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst : The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder glaunst. XVIII. Much daunted with that dint her sence was dazd; Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round, That hand or foot to stirr he strove in vaine. God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine ! XIX. His lady, sad to see his sore constraint, Cride out, "Now, now, Sir knight, shew what ye bee; Add faith unto your force, and be not faint; Strangle her, or els she sure will strangle thee." That when he heard, in great perplexitie, His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine; And, knitting all his force, got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine, That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine. xx. Therewith she spewd out of her filthie maw A floud of poyson horrible and blacke, |