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The sixteenth Booke of Godfrey of Bulloigne.

The argument.

The searchers passe through all the pallace bright,
Where in sweet prison lies Rinaldo pent,
And doe so much, that full of rage and spight,
With them he goes sad, shamed, discontent:
With plaints and prayers to retaine her knight
Armida striues; he heares, but thence he went,
And she forlorne her pallace great and faire
Destroies for griefe, and flies thence through the aire.

1

The pallace great is builded rich and round,
And in the center of the inmost hold,
There lies a garden sweet, on fertile ground,
Fairer than that where grew the trees of gold:
The cunning sprites had buildings rear'd around,
With doores and entries false a thousand fold,
A labyrinth they made that fortresse braue,
Like Dedals prison or Porsennaes graue.

2

The knights past through the castles largest gate,
(Though round about an hundreth ports there shine)
The doore leaues fram'd of carued siluer plate,
Vpon their golden hinges turne and twine,
They staid to view this worke of wit and state,
The workmanship excell'd the substance fine,
For all the shapes in that rich mettall wrought,
Saue speech, of liuing bodies wanted nought.
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3

Alcides there sate telling tales, and sponne
Among the feeble troupes of damsels milde,
He that the firie gates of hell had wonne,
And heau'n vpheld; false loue stood by and smild:
Armd with his club faire Iolee foorth ronne,
His club with bloud of monsters foule defilde,
And on her backe his lions skin had shee,
Too rough a barke for such a tender tree.

4

Beyond, was made a sea, whose azure flood
The hoarie froth crusht from the surges blew,
Wherein two nauies great well ranged stood
Of warlike ships, fire from their armes out flew,
The waters burnt about their vessels good,
Such flames the gold therein enchased threw,
Cæsar his Romaines hence, the Asian kings
Thence Antonie, and Indian princes brings.

5

The Ciclades seem'd to swim amid the maine,
And hill gainst hill, and mount gainst mountaine smote,
With such great furie met those armies twaine,
Here burnt a ship, there sunke a barke or bote,
Here darts and wildefire flew, there drown'd or slaine
Of princes dead, the bodies fleete and flote;
Here Cæsar wins, and yonder conquerd beene
The eastren ships, there fled th' Egyptian queene:

6

Antonius eeke himselfe to flight betooke,
The Empire lost to which he would aspire,
Yet fled not he, nor fight for feare forsooke,
But follow'd her, drawne on by fond desire:
Well might you see within his troubled looke,
Striue and contend, loue, courage, shame and ire;
Oft lookt he backt, oft gaz'de he on the fight,
But oftner on his mistresse and her flight:

7

Then in the secret creekes of fruitfull Nile,
Cast in her lappe, he would sadde death awate,
And in the pleasure of her louely smile,
Sweeten the bitter stroake of cursed fate,
All this did art with curious hand compile
In the rich mettall of that princely gate.
The knights these stories viewed first and last,
Which seene, they forward preas'd, and in they past:
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8

As through his chanell crookt Meander glides
With turnes and twines, and rowles now to now fro,
Whose streames run foorth there to the salt sea sides,
Here backe returne, and to their springward go:
Such crooked pathes, such waies this pallace hides;
Yet all the maze their mappe described so,
That through the labyrinth they got in fine,
As Theseus did by Ariadnaies line.

9

When they had passed all those troubled waies,
The garden sweete spred foorth her greene to shew,
The moouing christall from the fountaines plaies,
Faire trees, high plants, strange herbes and flowrets new,
Sunshinie hils, dales hid from Phœbus raies,
Groues, arbours, mossie caues at once they vew,
And that which beautie most, most woonder brought,
No where appeard the arte which all this wrought.

10

So with the rude the polisht mingled was,
That naturall seemd all, and euery part,
Nature would craft in counterfaiting pas,
And imitate her imitator art:
Milde was the aire, the skies were cleere as glas,
The trees no whirlewind felt, nor tempest smart,
But ere their fruit drop off, the blossome comes,
This springs, that fals, that ripeneth, and this blomes.

11

The leaues vpon the selfesame bow did hide,
Beside the yoong the old and ripened figge,
Here fruit was greene, there ripe with vermile side,
The apples new and old grew on one twigge,
The fruitfull vine her armes spred high and wide,
That bended vnderneath their clusters bigge,
The grapes were tender here, hard, yoong and sowre,
There purple, ripe, and nectar sweete foorth powre.

12

The ioyous birds, hid vnder greenewood shade,
Sung merrie notes on euery branch and bow,
The winde (that in the leaues and waters plaid)
With murmur sweete, now song, and whistled now,
Ceased the birds, the winde loud answere made:
And while they sung, it rumbled soft and low;
Thus, were it happe or cunning, chance or art,
The winde in this strange musicke bore his part.
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13

With partie coloured plumes and purple bill,
A woondrous bird among the rest there flew,
That in plaine speech sung louelaies loud and shrill,
Her leden was like humaine language trew,
So much she talkt and with such wit and skill,
That strange it seemed how much good she knew,
Her feathred fellowes all stood husht to heare,
Dombe was the winde, the waters silent weare.

14

The gentlie budding rose (quoth she) behold,
That first scant peeping foorth with virgin beames,
Halfe ope, halfe shut, her beauties doth vpfold
In their deare leaues, and lesse seene, fairer seames,
And after spreeds them foorth more broad and bold,
Then languisheth and dies in last extreames,
Nor seemes the same, that decked bed and boure
Of many a ladie late, and paramoure:

15

So, in the passing of a day, doth pas
The bud and blossome of the life of man,
Nor ere doth flourish more, but like the gras
Cut downe, becommeth withred, pale and wan:
O gather then the rose while time thou has,
Short is the day, done when it scant began,
Gather the rose of loue, while yet thou mast
Louing, be lou'd; embrasing, be embrast.

16

He ceast, and as approouing all he spoke,
The quire of birds their heau'nly tunes renew,
The turtles sigh'd, and sighes with kisses broke,
The foules to shades vnseene, by paires, withdrew;
It seemd the laurell chast, and stubborne oke,
And all the gentle trees on earth that grew,
It seemd the land, the sea, and heau'n aboue,
All breath'd out fancie sweete, and sigh'd out loue.

17

Through all this musicke rare, and stronge consent
Of strange allurements, sweete boue meane and measure,
Seuere, firme, constant, still the knights foorth went,
Hardning their harts gainst false entising pleasure,
Twixt leafe and leafe, their sight before they sent,
And after crept themselues at ease and leasure,
Till they beheld the Queene, set with their knight
Besides the lake, shaded with bowes from sight:
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18

Her breasts were naked, for the day was hot,
Her lockes vnbound, wau'd in the wanton winde;
Somedeale she swet (tir'd with the game you wot)
Her sweat-drops bright, white, round, like pearles of Inde,
Her humide eies a firie smile foorth shot,
That like sunne-beames in siluer fountaines shinde,
Ore him her lookes she hung, and her soft breast
The pillow was, where he and loue tooke rest.

19

His hungrie eies vpon her face he fed,
And feeding them so, pinde himselfe away;
And she, declining often downe her hed,
His lippes, his cheekes, his eies kist, as he lay,
Wherewith he sigh'd, as if his soule had fled
From his fraile breast to hers, and there would stay
With her beloued sprite, the armed pare
These follies all beheld and this hot fare.

20

Downe by the louers side there pendant was
A Christall mirrour, bright, pure, smooth and neat,
He rose and to his mistresse held the glas,
(A noble Page, grac'd with that seruice great)
She, with glad lookes; he with enflam'd (alas)
Beautie and loue beheld, both in one seat;
Yet them in sundrie obiects each espies,
She, in the glasse; he, saw them in her eies:

21

Her, to commaund; to serue, it pleas'd the knight;
He proud of bondage; of her Empire, shee;
My deare (she said) that blessest with thy sight
Euen blessed Angels, turne thine eies to me,
For painted in my hart and purtrai'd right
Thy woorth, thy beauties, and perfections bee,
Of which the forme, the shape, and fashion best,
Not in this glas is seene, but in my brest.

22

And if thou me disdaine, yet be content
At least so to behold thy louely hew,
That while thereon thy lookes are fixt and bent,
Thy happie eies themselues may see and vew;
So rare a shape, no Christall can present,
No glas containe that heau'n of beauties trew;
O let the skies thy woorthie mirrour bee!
And in cleere starres thy shape and image see.
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23

And with that word she smil'd, and nerethelesse
Her loue-toies still she vs'd, and pleasures bold:
Her haire that donne she twisted vp in tresse,
And looser lockes in silken laces roll'd,
Her curles garland wise she did vpdresse,
Wherein (like ritch ennamell laid on gold,)
The twisted flowrets smil'd, and her white brest
The Lillies (there that spring) with Roses drest.

24

The iolly Peacocke spreeds not halfe so faire,
The eied feathers of his pompous traine;
Nor golden Iris so bendes in the aire
Her twentie colour'd bow, through cloudes of raine:
Yet all her ornaments, strange, rich and raire,
Her girdle did in price and beautie staine,
Not that (with scorne) which Tuscane Guilla lost;
Nor Venus Ceston, could match this for cost.

25

Of milde denaies, of tender scornes, of sweet
Repulses, warre, peace, hope, despaire, ioy, feare,
Of smiles, ieastes, mirth, woe, griefe, and sad regreet;
Sighes, sorrowes, teares, embracements, kisses deare,
That mixed first by weight and measure meet,
Then at an easie fire attempred weare;
This wondrous girdle did Armida frame,
And (when she would be loued) wore the same.

26

But when her wooing fit was brought to end,
Shee congee tooke, kist him, and went her way;
For once she vsed euery day to wend
Bout her affaires, her spels and charmes to say:
The youth remain'd, yet had no powre to bend
One step from thence, but vsed there to stray
Mongst the sweete birds, through euerie walke & groue,
Alone, saue for an hermit false call'd Loue.

27

And when the silence deepe and friendly shaide
Recall'd the louers to their wonted sport,
In a faire roome, for pleasure built, they laide,
And longest nights with ioies made sweet and short.
Now while the queene her houshold things suruaide,
And left her Lord, her garden, and disport,
The twaine that hidden in the bushes weare,
Before the Prince in glistring armes appeare:
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28

As the fierce stead for age withdrawne from warre,
Wherein the glorious beast had alwaies wonne,
That in vile rest from fight sequestred farre,
Feedes with the mares at large, his seruice donne,
If armes he see, or heare the trumpets iarre,
He neieth lowd, and thither fast doth ronne,
And wisheth on his backe the armed knight,
Longing for iustes, for turnament and fight:

29

So farde Rinaldo when the glorious light
Of their bright harnesse glistred in his eies,
His noble sprite awaked at that sight,
His bloud began to warme, his hart to rise,
Though drunke with ease deuoid of wonted might,
On sleepe till then his weakned vertue lies,
Vbaldo forward stept, and to him heild
Of dimonds cleere, that pure and pretious sheild.

30

Vpon the targe his lookes amas'd he bent,
And therein all his wanton habite spide,
His ciuet, baulme, and perfumes redolent,
How from his lockes they smoakt, and mantle wide,
His sword that many a Pagan stout had shent,
Bewrapt with flowres, hung idlie by his side,
So nicely decked, that it seemd the knight
Wore it for fashion sake, but not for fight.

31

As when from sleepe and idle dreames abraid
A man awakt, cals home his wits againe;
So in beholding his attire he plaid,
But yet to view himselfe could not sustaine,
His lookes he downward cast, and nought he said,
Grieu'd, shamed, sad, he would haue died faine,
And oft he wisht the earth or Ocean wide
Would swallow him, and so his errours hide.

32

Vbaldo tooke the time, and thus begonne,
All Europe now and Asia be in warre,
And all that Christ adore, and fame haue wonne,
In battaile strong, in Syria fighting arre;
But thee alone (Bertoldoes noble sonne)
This little corner keepes, exiled farre
From all the world, buried in sloth and shame,
A carpet champion for a wanton dame.
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33

What letharge hath in drowsinesse vppend
Thy courage thus? what sloth doth thee infect?
Vp, vp, our campe and Godfrey for thee send,
Thee fortune, praise, and victorie expect,
Come fatall champion, bring to happie end
This enterprise begonne, and all that sect,
(Which oft thou shaken hast) to earth full low
With thy sharpe brand, strike downe, kill, ouerthrow.

34

This said, the noble infant stood a space
Confused, speechlesse, senslesse, ill ashamed;
But when that shame to iust disdaine gaue place,
To fierce disdaine, from courage sprung vntamed,
Another rednesse blushed through his face,
Whence worthie anger shone, displeasure flamed,
His nice attire in scorne he rent and tore,
For of his bondage vile that witnes bore;

35

That donne, he hasted from the charmed fort,
And through the maze past with his searchers twaine.
Armida of her mount and chiefest port
Wondred to finde the furious keeper slaine,
A while she feared, but she knew in short
That her deare Lord was fled, then saw she plaine
(Ah wofull sight!) how from her gates the man
In haste, in feare, in wrath, in anger ran.

36

Whither O cruell, leau'st thou me alone?
She would haue cride, her griefe her speeches staid,
So that her wofull words are backward gone,
And in her hart a bitter Eccho maide,
Poore soule, of greater skill than she was one
Whose knowledge from her thus her ioy conuaid,
This wist she well, yet had desire to proue
If art could keepe, if charmes recall her loue.

37

All what the witches of Thessalia land
With lips vnpure yet euer said or spake,
Words that could make heau'ns rolling circles stand,
And draw the damned ghostes from Limbo lake,
All well she knew, but yet no time she fand
To vse her knowledge, or her charmes to make,
But left her artes, and forth she ran to proue,
If single beautie were best charme for loue.
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38

She ran, nor of her honour tooke regarde,
Oh where be all her vants and triumphes now?
Loues Empire great of late she made or marde,
To her his subiects humbly bend and bow,
And with her pride mixt was a scorne so harde,
That to be lou'd, she lou'd, yet whilst they wow
Her louers all she hates, that pleas'd her will,
To conquer men, and conqu'red so, to kill.

39

But now her selfe, disdain'd, abandoned,
Ran after him, that from her fled in scorne,
And her despised beautie laboured,
With humble plaints and praiers, to adorne;
She ran, and hasted after him that fled,
Through frost and snow, through brier, bush, and thorne,
And sent her cries on message her before,
That reacht not him, till he had reacht the shore:

40

O thou that leau'st but halfe behinde (quoth shee)
Of my poore hart, and halfe with thee dost carrie,
O take this part, or render that to mee,
Else kill them both at once, ah tarrie, tarrie:
Heare my last words, no parting kisse of thee
I craue, for some more fit with thee to marrie
Keepe them (vnkinde) what fear'st thou if thou stay?
Thou mai'st denie, as well as runne away.

41

At this Rinaldo stopt, stood still, and staid,
She came, sad, breathlesse, wearie, faint, and weake,
So woe begone was neuer Nymph or maid;
And yet her beauties pride griefe could not breake,
On him she lookt, shee gas'd, but nought she said,
She would not, could not, or she durst not speake,
At her he lookt not, glanst not, if he did,
Those glances shamefaste were, close, secret, hid.

42

As cunning singers, ere they straine on hie,
In loud melodious tunes, their gentle voice,
Prepare the hearers eares to harmonie,
With fainings sweet, low notes, and warbles choice:
So she, not hauing yet forgot pardie
Her woonted shifts and sleights in Cupides toies,
A sequence first of sighes and sobbes foorth cast,
To breed compassion deere, than spake at last.
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43

Suppose not (cruell) that I come to wow,
Or pray, as Ladies doe their loues and Lords;
Such were we late, if thou disdaine it now,
Or scorne to grant such grace as loue affords,
At least yet as an enmie listen thow,
Sworne foes sometime will talke, and chaffer words,
For what I aske thee, maist thou grant right well,
And lessen nought thy wrath and anger fell.

44

If me thou hate, and in that hate delight,
I come not to appease thee, hate me still,
Its like for like; I bore great hate and spight
Gainst Christians all, chiefly I wisht thee ill:
I was a Pagan borne, and all my might
Against Godfredo bent, mine art and skill,
I follow'd thee, tooke thee, and bore thee far
To this strange isle, and kept thee safe from war:

45

And more, which more thy hate may iustly moue,
More to thy losse, more to thy shame and griefe,
I thee enchanted and allur'd to loue,
Wicked deceit, craft worthie sharpe repriefe,
Mine honor gaue I thee all gifts aboue,
And of my beauties made thee Lord and chiefe,
And to my sutors old what I denaid,
That gaue I thee (my louer new) vnpraid.

46

But reckon that among my faultes, and let
Those many wrongs prouoke thee so to wrath,
That hence thou ronne, and that at naught thou set
This pleasant house, so many ioyes which hath;
Goe, trauaile, passe the seas, fight, conquest get,
Destroy our faith, what shall I say our fath?
Ah no! no longer ours, before thy shrine
Alone I pray, thou cruell saint of mine,

47

All only let me goe with thee (vnkinde)
A small request although I were thy foe,
The spoiler seldome leaues the praie behinde,
Who triumphes lets his captiues with him goe,
Among thy pris'ners poore Armida binde,
And let the campe encrease thy praises soe,
That thy beguiler so thou couldst beguile,
And point at me, thy thrall and bondslaue vile.
290

48

Despised bondslaue, since my Lord doth hate
These lockes, why keepe I them or hold them deare?
Come cut them off, that to my seruile state
My habit answere may, and all my geare:
I follow thee in spite of death and fate
Through battles fierce where dangers most appeare,
Courage I haue and strength enough (perchance)
To lead thy courser spare, and beare thy lance:

49

I will or beare, or be my selfe, thy shield,
And to defend thy life, will loose mine owne:
This breast, this bosome soft, shall be thy bield
Gainst stormes of arrowes, darts and weapons throwne;
Thy foes pardie encountring thee in field,
Will spare to strike thee (mine affection knowne)
Least me they wound, nor will sharpe veng'ance take
On thee, for this despised beauties sake.

50

O wretch! dare I still vant, or helpe inuoake
From this poore beautie, scorned and disdained?
She said no more, her teares her speeches broake,
Which from her eies like streames from springs down rained:
She would haue caught him by the hand or cloake,
But he stept backward, and himselfe restrained,
Conquer'd his will, his hart ruth soft'ned not,
There plaintes no ishue; loue, no entrance got.

51

Loue entred not to kindle in his brest
(Which reason late had quencht) his wonted flame;
Yet entred pitie in the place at lest:
Loues sister, but a chast and sober dame,
And stirr'd him so, that hardly he supprest
The springing teares that to his eies vp came;
But yet euen there his plaints repressed weare,
And (as he could) he lookte, and fained cheare.

52

Madame (quoth he) for your distresse I grieue,
And would amend it, if I might or could,
From your wise hart that fond affection driue:
I cannot hate nor scorne you though I would,
I seeke no veng'ance, wrongs I all forgiue,
Nor you my seruant, nor my foe I hould,
Truth is, yon err'de, and your estate forgot,
Too great your hate was, and your loue too hot.
291

53

But those are common faultes, and faults of kind,
Excus'd by nature, by your sexe and yeares;
I erred likewise, if I pardon find,
None can condemne you, that our trespasse heares,
Your deare remembrance will I keepe in minde,
In ioes, in woes, in comforts, hopes and feares,
Call me your souldiour and your knight, as farre
As Christian faith permits, and Asias warre.

54

Ah let our faults and follies here take end,
And let our errours past you satisfie,
And in this Angle of the world ipend,
Let both the fame and shame thereof, now die,
From all the earth where I am knowne and kend
I wish this fact should still concealed lie:
Nor yet in following me poore knight, disgrace
Your woorth; your beautie, and your princely race.

55

Stay here in peace, I goe, nor wend you may
With me, my guide your fellowship denies,
Stay here or hence depart some better way,
And calme your thoughts, you are both sage and wise.
While thus he spoke, her passions found no stay,
But here and there she turn'd and roll'd her eies,
And staring on his face a while, at last
Thus in foule termes, her bitter wrath forth brast.

56

Of Sophia faire thou neuer wert the childe,
Nor of the Azzaine race isprong thou art,
The mad sea waues thee bore, some Tigresse wilde
On Caucasus cold crags, nurst thee apart;
Ah cruell man! in whom no token milde
Appeeres, of pitie, ruth, or tender hart,
Could not my griefes, my woes, my plaints and all
One sigh straine from thy breast, one teare make fall?

57

What shall I say, or how renew my speach?
He scornes me, leaues me, bids me call him mine:
The victor hath his foe within his reach;
Yet pardons her, that merits death and pine;
Heare how he counsels me, how he gan preach
(Like chast Xenocrates) gainst loue diuine;
Oh heau'ns, oh gods! why doe these men of shame,
Thus spoile your Temples, and blaspheme your name?
292

58

Go cruell, go, go with such peace, such rest,
Such ioy, such comfort, as thou leau'st me heare:
My angrie soule discharg'd from this weake brest,
Shall haunt thee euer and attend thee neare,
And furie like in snakes and fire brands drest,
Shall aie torment thee, whom it late held deare:
And if thou scape the seas, the rockes and sands,
And come to fight amid the Pagan bands,

59

There lying wounded, mongst the hurt and slaine,
Of these my wrongs thou shalt the vengeance beare,
And oft Armida shalt thou call in vaine,
At thy last gaspe; this hope I soone to heare:
Heare fainted she, with sorrow griefe and paine,
Her latest words scant well expressed were,
But in a swoune on earth outstretcht she lies,
Stiffe were her frozen limmes, clos'd were her eies.

60

Thou clos'd thine eies (Armida) heau'n enuide
Ease to thy griefe, or comfort to thy woe;
Ah, open them againe, see teares downe slide
From his kinde eies, whom thou esteemes thy foe,
If thou hadst heard, his sighes had mollifide
Thine anger hard, he sigh'd and mourned soe;
And as he could with sad and rufull looke
His leaue of thee, and last farewell he tooke.

61

What should he do? leaue on the naked sand
This wofull ladie halfe aliue, halfe dead?
Kindnesse forbod, pittie did that withstand;
But hard constraint (alas) did thence him lead;
Away he went, the west winde blew from land
Mongst the rich tresses of their pilots head,
And with that golden saile the waues she cleft,
To land he lookt, till land vnseene he left.

62

Wakt from her traunce, forsaken, speechlesse sad,
Armida wildly star'd, and gas'd about,
And is he gone (quoth she) nor pittie had
To leaue me thus twixt life and death in doubt?
Could he not stay? could not the traitor lad
From this last trance helpe or recall me out?
And do I loue him still, and on this sand
Still vnreuengde, still mourne, still weeping stand?
293

63

Fie no, complaintes farewell, with armes and art
I will pursue to death this spitefull knight,
Not earthes low center, nor seas deepest part,
Nor heau'n, nor hell, can shield him from my might,
I will oretake him, take him, cleaue his hart,
Such veng'ance fits a wronged louers spight,
In crueltie that cruell knight surpasse
I will, but what auaile vaine words, alasse?

64

O foole! thou shouldest haue beene cruell than,
(For than this cruell well deseru'd thine ire)
When thou in prison hadst entrapt the man,
Now dead with cold, too late thou askest fire;
But though my wit, my cunning nothing can,
Some other meanes shall worke my harts desire,
To thee (my beautie) thine be all these wrongs,
Veng'ance to thee, to thee reuenge belongs.

65

Thou shalt be his reward, with murdring brand
That dare this traitor of his head depriue,
O you my louers, on this rocke doth stand
The castle of her loue, for whom you striue,
I, thee sole heire of all Damascus land,
For this reuenge my selfe and kingdome giue,
If by this price my will I cannot gaine,
Nature, giues beautie; fortune, wealth in vaine.

66

But thee vaine gift (vaine beautie) thee I scorne,
I hate the kingdome, which I haue to giue,
I hate my selfe, and rue that I was borne,
Onely in hope of sweet reuenge I liue,
Thus raging with fell ire she gan returne
From that bare shore in haste, and homeward driue,
And as true witnesse of her franticke ire,
Her lockes wau'd loose, face shone, eies sparkled fire.

67

When she came home, she call'd with outcries shrill,
A thousand deuils in Limbo deepe that wonne,
Blacke cloudes the skies with horrid darknes fill,
And pale for dread became th' eclipsed sonne,
The whirlewinde blustred big on euerie hill,
And hell to roare vnder her feet begonne,
You might haue heard how through the pallace wide,
Some spirits howld, some barkt, some hist, some cride.
294

68

A shadow, blacker than the mirkest night,
Enuiron'd all the place, with darknes sad,
Wherein a firebrand gaue a dreadfull light,
Kindled in hell by Tisiphone the mad;
Vanisht the shade, the sun appeard in sight,
Pale were his beames, the aire was nothing glad,
And all the pallace vanisht was and gone,
Nor of so great a worke was left one stone.

69

As oft the clouds frame shapes of castles great
Amid the aire, that little time do last,
But are dissolu'd by winde or Titans heat;
Or like vaine dreames soone made, and sooner past:
The pallace vanisht so, nor in his seat
Left ought, but rockes and crags, by kind there plast;
She in her coach which two old serpents drew,
Sat downe, and as she vs'd, away she flew.

70

She broake the clouds, and cleft the yeelding skie,
And bout her gathred tempest, storme, and winde,
The lands that view the south pole flew she bie,
And left those vnknowne countries farre behinde,
The straites of Hercules she past, which lie
Twixt Spaine and Africke, nor her flight enclinde
To north or south, but still did forward ride
Ore seas and streames, till Syrias coasts she spide:

71

Nor went she forward to Damascus faire,
But of her countrie deare she fled the sight,
And guided to Asphaltes lake her chaire,
Where stood her castle, there she ends her flight,
And from her damsels farre, she made repaire
To a deepe vault, far from resort and light,
Where in sad thoughts a thousand doubtes she cast,
Till griefe and shame, to wrath gaue place at last.

72

I will not hence (quoth she) till Egypts lord
In aide of Sions king, his host shall moue;
Then will I vse all helps that charmes afford,
And change my shape, or sexe if so behoue:
Well can I handle bowe, or launce, or sword,
The worthies all will aide me, for my loue:
I seeke reuenge, and to obtaine the same,
Farewell regard of honour, farewell shame.
295

73

Nor let mine vncle and protector me
Reproue for this, he most deserues the blame,
My hart and sex (that weake and tender be)
He bent to deedes, that maidens euill became;
His neece a wandring damsell first made he,
He spurr'd my youth, and I cast off my shame,
His be the fault, if ought gainst mine estate
I did for loue, or shall commit for hate.

74

This said, her knights, her ladies, pages, squires
She all assembleth, and for iourney fit,
In such faire armes and vestures them attires,
As shew'd her wealth, and well declar'd her wit;
And forward marched, full of strange desires,
Nor rested she by day or night one whit,
Till she came there, where all the eastren bands,
Their kings and princes, lay on Gazaes sands.
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