English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700; Knights and knighthood -- Poetry; Virtues -- Poetry
Who streight her leading with meete maiestie xxv
Vnto the pallace, where their kings did rayne,
Did her therein establish peaceablie,
And to her kingdomes seat restore agayne;
And all such persons, as did late maintayne
That Tyrants part, with close or open ayde,
He sorely punished with heauie payne;
That in short space, whiles there with her he stayd,
Not one was left, that durst her once haue disobayd.
During which time, that he did there remaine, xxvi
His studie was true Iustice how to deale,
And day and night employ’d his busie paine
How to reforme that ragged common-weale:
And that same yron man which could reueale
All hidden crimes, through all that realme he sent,
To search out those, that vsd to rob and steale,
Or did rebell gainst lawfull gouernment;
On whom he did inflict most grieuous punishment.
But ere he could reforme it thoroughly, xxvii
He through occasion called was away,
To Faerie Court, that of necessity
His course of Iustice he was forst to stay,
And _Talus_ to reuoke from the right way,
In which he was that Realme for to redresse.
But enuies cloud still dimmeth vertues ray.
So hauing freed _Irena_ from distresse,
He tooke his leaue of her, there left in heauinesse.
Tho as he backe returned from that land, xxviii
And there arriu’d againe, whence forth he set,
He had not passed farre vpon the strand,
When as two old ill fauour’d Hags he met,
By the way side being together set,
Two griesly creatures; and, to that their faces
Most foule and filthie were, their garments yet
Being all rag’d and tatter’d, their disgraces
Did much the more augment, and made most vgly cases.
The one of them, that elder did appeare, xxix
With her dull eyes did seeme to looke askew,
That her mis-shape much helpt; and her foule heare
Hung loose and loathsomely: Thereto her hew
Was wan and leane, that all her teeth arew,
And all her bones might through her cheekes be red;
Her lips were like raw lether, pale and blew,
And as she spake, therewith she slauered;
Yet spake she seldom, but thought more, the lesse she sed.
Her hands were foule and durtie, neuer washt xxx
In all her life, with long nayles ouer raught,
Like puttocks clawes: with th’one of which she scracht
Her cursed head, although it itched naught;
The other held a snake with venime fraught,
On which she fed, and gnawed hungrily[394],
As if that long she had not eaten ought;
That round about her iawes one might descry
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping lothsomely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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