XII

Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake,[*] 100
  Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,
  And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake,
  The creeping deadly cold away did shake: 
  Tho mov’d with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,
  Of all attonce he cast avengd to bee, 105
  And with so’ exceeding furie at him strake,
  That forced him to stoupe upon his knee;
Had he not stouped so, he should have cloven bee.

XIII

And to him said, Goe now proud Miscreant,
  Thy selfe thy message do to german deare; 110
  Alone he wandring thee too long doth want: 
  Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare. 
  Therewith his heavie hand he high gan reare,
  Him to have slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd[*]
  Upon him fell:  he no where doth appeare, 115
  But vanisht is.  The Elfe him calls alowd,
But answer none receives:  the darkness him does shrowd.

XIV

In haste Duessa from her place arose,
  And to him running said, O prowest knight,
  That ever Ladie to her love did chose, 120
  Let now abate the terror of your might,
  And quench the flame of furious despight,
  And bloudie vengeance; lo th’ infernall powres,
  Covering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
  Have borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres. 125
The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, the glory yours.

XV

Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye
  He sought all round about, his thristie blade
  To bath in bloud of faithlesse enemy;
  Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:  130
  He standes amazed, how he thence should fade. 
  At last the trumpets Triumph sound on hie,
  And running Heralds humble homage made,
  Greeting him goodly with new victorie,
And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie. 135

XVI

Wherewith he goeth to that soveraine Queene,
  And falling her before on lowly knee,
  To her makes present of his service seene: 
  Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,
  Greatly advauncing his gay chevalree. 140
  So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,
  Whom all the people follow with great glee,
  Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,
That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heaven bright.

XVII

Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed:  145
  Where many skilfull leaches him abide,
  To salve his hurts, that yet still freshly bled. 
  In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide,
  And softly can embalme on every side. 
  And all the while, most heavenly melody 150
  About the bed sweet musicke did divide,
  Him to beguile of griefe and agony: 
And all the while Duessa wept full bitterly.