III.

Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,

(That greatest glorious queene of Faery lond,)
To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly things he most did crave:
And ever as he rode his hart did earne

To prove his puissance in battell brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne.

IV.

A lovely ladie rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white then snow,
Yet she much whiter; but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low;
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw:
As one that inly mournd, so was she sad,
And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow;
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had;
And by her in a line a milkewhite lambe she lad.

V.

So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore;

And by descent from royall lynage came,

Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore, And all the world in their subjection held; Till that infernall feend with foule uprore Forwasted all their land, and them expeld; Whom to avenge she had this knight from far compeld.

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,
And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine

Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,

That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain;

And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.

VII.

Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,

A shadie grove not farr away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand;
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farr:
Faire harbour that them seems; so in they entred ar.

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
And poets sage; the firre that weepeth still;
The willow, worne of forlorne paramours;
The eugh, obedient to the benders will;
The birch for shaftes; the sallow for the mill;
The mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound;
The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill;
The fruitfull olive; and the platane round;

The carver holme; the maple seeldom inward sound.

X.

Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Untill the blustring storme is overblowne;
When, weening to returne whence they did stray,
They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in waies unknowne,

Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,

That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been.

XI.

At last resolving forward still to fare,

Till that some end they finde, or in or out,

That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about;

Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollowe cave
Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,
And to the dwarfe a while his needless spere he gave.

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 wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,

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,

The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide;
But forth unto the darksom hole he went,
And looked in: his glistring armor made
A little glooming light, much like a shade
By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,

But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.

XV.

And, as she lay upon the durtie ground,
Her huge long taile her den all overspred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound,
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
Sucking upon her poisnous dugs; each one
Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill-favored :

Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone,
Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.

XVI.

Their dam upstart out of her den effraide,

And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her cursed head; whose folds displaid

Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle,

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,

And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd

With double forces high above the ground:
Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine
All suddenly about his body wound,

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
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,

bee;

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,
Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw,
Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke