He day and night doth ward both farre and wide,
That none can there arrive without an hoste:
So her he deemes already but a damned ghoste.”
“Now turne againe,” (Sir Artegall then sayd)
“For, if I live till those ten daies have end,
Assure your selfe, Sir Knight, she shall have ayd,
Though I this dearest life for her doe spend.”
So backeward he attone with him did wend:
Tho, as they rode together on their way,
A rout of people they before them kend,
Flocking together in confusde array;
As if that there were some tumultuous affray.
To which as they approcht the cause to know,
They saw a Knight in daungerous distresse
Of a rude rout him chasing to and fro,
That sought with lawlesse powre him to oppresse,
And bring in bondage of their brutishnesse:
And farre away, amid their rakehell bands,
They spide a Lady left all succourlesse,
Crying, and holding up her wretched hands
To him for aide, who long in vaine their rage withstands.
Yet still he strives, ne any perill spares,
To reskue her from their rude violence;
And like a Lion wood amongst them fares,
Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large dispence,
Gainst which the pallid death findes no defence;
But all in vaine: their numbers are so great,
That naught may boot to banishe them from thence;
For soone as he their outrage backe doth beat,
They turne afresh, and oft renew their former threat.
And now they doe so sharpely him assay,
That they his shield in peeces battred have,
And forced him to throw it quite away,
Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to save;
Albe that it most safety to him gave,
And much did magnifie his noble name:
For, from the day that he thus did it leave,
Amongst all Knights he blotted was with blame,
And counted but a recreant Knight with endles shame.
Whom when they thus distressed did behold,
They drew unto his aide; but that rude rout
Them also gan assaile with outrage bold,
And forced them, how ever strong and stout
They were, as well approv’d in many a doubt,
Backe to recule; untill that yron man
With his huge flaile began to lay about;
From whose sterne presence they diffused ran,
Like scattred chaffe the which the wind away doth fan.
So when that Knight from perill cleare was freed,
He drawing neare began to greete them faire,
And yeeld great thankes for their so goodly deed,
In saving him from daungerous despaire
Of those which sought his life for to empaire:
Of whom Sir Artegall gan then enquire
The whole occasion of his late misfare,
And who he was, and what those villaines were,
The which with mortall malice him pursu’d so nere.
To whom he thus: “My name is Burbon hight,
Well knowne, and far renowmed heretofore,
Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light,
That all my former praise hath blemisht sore:
And that faire Lady, which in that uprore
Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis hight,
Is mine owne love, though me she have forlore,
Whether withheld from me by wrongfull might,
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read aright.
“But sure to me her faith she first did plight
To be my love, and take me for her Lord;
Till that a Tyrant, which Grandtorto hight,
With golden giftes and many a guilefull word
Entyced her to him for to accord.
O! who may not with gifts and words be tempted?
Sith which she hath me ever since abhord,
And to my foe hath guilefully consented:
Ay me, that ever guyle in wemen was invented!
“And now he hath this troupe of villains sent
By open force to fetch her quite away:
Gainst whom my selfe I long in vaine have bent
To rescue her, and daily meanes assay;
Yet rescue her thence by no meanes I may,
For they doe me with multitude oppresse,
And with unequall might doe overlay,
That oft I driven am to great distresse,
And forced to forgoe th’attempt remedilesse.”
“But why have ye” (said Artegall) “forborne
Your owne good shield in daungerous dismay?
That is the greatest shame and foulest scorne,
Which unto any knight behappen may,
To loose the badge that should his deedes display.”
To whom Sir Burbon, blushing halfe for shame:
“That shall I unto you” (quoth he) “bewray,
Least ye therefore mote happily me blame,
And deeme it doen of will, that through inforcement came.
“True is that I at first was dubbed knight
By a good knight, the knight of the Redcrosse;
Who, when he gave me armes in field to fight,
Gave me a shield, in which he did endosse
His deare Redeemers badge upon the bosse:
The same long while I bore, and therewithall
Fought many battels without wound or losse;
Therewith Grandtorto selfe I did appall,
And made him oftentimes in field before me fall.
“But for that many did that shield envie,
And cruell enemies increased more,
To stint all strife and troublous enmitie,
That bloudie scutchin, being battered sore,
I layd aside, and have of late forbore,
Hoping thereby to have my love obtayned;
Yet can I not my love have nathemore,
For she by force is still fro me detayned,
And with corruptfull brybes is to untruth mis-trayned.”
To whom thus Artegall: “Certes, Sir knight,
Hard is the case the which ye doe complaine?
Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light
That it to such a streight mote you constraine)
As to abandon that which doth containe
Your honours stile, that is, your warlike shield.
All perill ought be lesse, and lesse all paine
Then losse of fame in disaventrous field:
Dye, rather then doe ought that mote dishonour yield.
“Not so,” (quoth he) “for yet, when time doth serve,
My former shield I may resume againe:
To temporize is not from truth to swerve,
Ne for advantage terme to entertaine,
When as necessitie doth it constraine.”
“Fie on such forgerie!” (sayd Artegall)
“Under one hood to shadow faces twaine:
Knights ought be true, and truth
