O lightsome day, the lampe of highest _Ioue_, xxiii First made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde, When darknesse he in deepest dongeon droue, Henceforth thy hated face for euer hyde, And shut vp heauens windowes shyning wyde: For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed, And late repentance, which shall long abyde. Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed, But seeled vp with death, shall haue their deadly meed. Then downe againe she fell vnto the ground; xxiv But he her quickly reared vp againe: Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd, And thrise he her reviu’d with busie paine: At last when life recouer’d had the raine, And ouer-wrestled his strong enemie, With foltring tong, and trembling euery vaine, Tell on (quoth she) the wofull Tragedie, The which these reliques sad present vnto mine eie. Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight, xxv And thrilling sorrow throwne his vtmost dart; Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heauy plight, Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart: Who hath endur’d the whole, can beare each part. If death it be, it is not the first wound, That launched hath my brest with bleeding smart. Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound; If lesse, then that I feare,[247] more fauour I haue found. Then gan the Dwarfe the whole discourse declare, xxvi The subtill traines of _Archimago_ old; The wanton loues of false _Fidessa_ faire, Bought with the bloud of vanquisht Paynim bold: The wretched payre transform’d to treen mould; The house of Pride, and perils round about; The combat, which he with _Sansioy_ did hould; The lucklesse conflict with the Gyant stout, Wherein captiu’d, of life or death he stood in doubt. She heard with patience all vnto the end, xxvii And stroue to maister sorrowfull assay, Which greater grew, the more she did contend, And almost rent her tender hart in tway; And loue fresh coles vnto her fire did lay: For greater loue, the greater is the losse. Was neuer Ladie loued dearer day, Then she did loue the knight of the _Redcrosse_; For whose deare sake so many troubles her did tosse. At last when feruent sorrow slaked was, xxviii She vp arose, resoluing him to find A liue or dead: and forward forth doth pas, All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd: And euermore in constant carefull mind he fed her wound with fresh renewed bale; Long tost with stormes, and bet with bitter wind, High ouer hils, and low adowne the dale, She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale.