Una and the red cross knight, and other tales from Spenser's Faery Queene; . th every blast, Made a calm shadow far in compass round;The fearful shepherd, often there aghastlUnder them never sat, ne wont there soundHis merry oaten pipe, but shunned the But the day was now grown to noon and thesun was hot and beat fiercely upon the Knightand his new lady, so he, not knowing of the evilname of the place, led her to the shade; and theyboth alighted from their horses to rest and refreshthemselves after the noonday heat. There they talked pleasantly to each other awhile, and the Kni
Una and the red cross knight, and other tales from Spenser's Faery Queene; . th every blast, Made a calm shadow far in compass round;The fearful shepherd, often there aghastlUnder them never sat, ne wont there soundHis merry oaten pipe, but shunned the But the day was now grown to noon and thesun was hot and beat fiercely upon the Knightand his new lady, so he, not knowing of the evilname of the place, led her to the shade; and theyboth alighted from their horses to rest and refreshthemselves after the noonday heat. There they talked pleasantly to each other awhile, and the Knight, ever more deceived,thought her the fairest lady that ever yet lived,and to do her honour he was minded to weaveher a garland of branches for her head. To thatintent he plucked a little bough from the tree thatwaved above them. But great was his horrorto see from the place where he had broken thebranch, small drops of blood burst forth and trickledown the trunk. 1 Aghast = terrified. zne wont there sound bis merry oaten pipe = nor would he come andplay his pipe ;--:w YORKBLIC LIBRARY NO !L* u ARCHIMAGO& THE FALSE DUESSA 41 Then a voice cried from the tree; O, spareme! Stay your hand and do not tear my tenderflesh imprisoned in the rough bark of this tree;fly fast from hence, lest you meet the same fatethat hath overtaken me and my dear love, whomin the likeness of a tree you see beside me. And,with that, the voice fell to lamenting with piteousyells, and the Knight stood astonished, and hishair rose on his head for sudden horror of thatthing. At last, when he was somewhat recovered ofhis amazement he found voice and asked: What voice of damned ghost from Limbo lake,1Or guileful spright wandring in empty air, Both which frail men do oftentimes mistakeSends to my doubtful ears these speeches rare ? I am no ghost, replied the voice, nor am Ia deceitful spirit, but a most unhappy mortal, onceknown as Fradubio, now a prisoner within thistree whose likeness I bear. A witc
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