Up then, up dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene, Go gather up the reliques of thy race, Or else goe them avenge, and let be seene, 210 That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place, And can the children of faire light deface. Her feeling speeches some compassion moved In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face: Yet pittie in her hart was never proved 215 Till then: for evermore she hated, never loved. XXV And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew The fall of famous children borne of mee, And good successes,[*] which their foes ensew: But who can turne the streame of destinee, 220 Or breake the chayne[*] of strong necessitee, Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat? The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see, And by my ruines thinkes to make them great: To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.[*] 225 XXVI Yet shall they not escape so freely all; For some shall pay the price of others guilt: And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall, Shall with his owne bloud[*] price that he has spilt. But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt? 230 I that do seeme not I, Duessa am, (Quoth she) how ever now in garments gilt, And gorgeous gold arrayd I to thee came; Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame. XXVII Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist 235 The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face The false resemblance of Deceipt I wist Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace It carried, that I scarce in darkesome place Could it discerne, though I the mother bee 240 Of falshood, and roote of Duessaes race. O welcome child, whom I have longd to see, And now have seene unwares. Lo now I go with thee. XXVIII Then to her yron wagon she betakes, And with her beares the fowle welfavourd witch: 245 Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes. Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch, And two were browne, yet each to each unlich, Did softly swim away, ne ever stampe, Unlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch; 250 Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe, And trampling the fine element would fiercely rampe. XXIX So well they sped, that they be come at length Unto the place, whereas the Paynim lay, Devoid of outward sense, and native strength, 255 Coverd with charmed cloud from vew of day And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray. His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congeald They binden up so wisely, as they may, And handle softly, till they can be healed: 260 So lay him in her charet close in night concealed. XXX