L

She flying fast from heavens hated face,
  And from the world that her discovered wide, 425
  Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,
  From living eyes her open shame to hide,
  And lurkt in rocks and caves long unespide. 
  But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire
  Did in that castle afterwards abide, 430
  To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire,
Where store they found of all that dainty was and rare.

* * * * *

CANTO IX

His loves and lignage Arthur tells: 
the Knights knit friendly hands: 
Sir Trevisan flies from Despayre,
whom Redcrosse Knight withstands.

I

O goodly golden chaine,[*] wherewith yfere
  The vertues linked are in lovely wize: 
  And noble mindes of yore allyed were,
  In brave poursuit of chevalrous emprize,
  That none did others safety despize, 5
  Nor aid envy to him, in need that stands,
  But friendly each did others prayse devize,
  How to advaunce with favourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands.

II

Who when their powres empaird through labour long, 10
  With dew repast they had recured well,
  And that weake captive wight now wexed strong,
  Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
  But forward fare, as their adventures fell,
  But ere they parted, Una faire besought 15
  That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
  Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in thanklesse[*] thought.

III

Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require
  A thing without the compas of my wit:  20
  For both the lignage and the certain Sire,
  From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit. 
  For all so soone as life did me admit
  Into this world, and shewed heavens light,
  From mothers pap I taken was unfit:  25
  And streight deliver’d to a Faery knight,[*]
To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.

IV

Unto old Timon he me brought bylive,
  Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene
  In warlike feates th’expertest man alive, 30
  And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
  His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
  Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore,[*]
  From whence the river Dee[*] as silver cleene,
  His tombling billowes roll with gentle rore:  35
There all my dayes he traind me up in vertuous lore.

V