HOLINESS; 
 
 THE LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE 
 
 A TALE 
 
 SPENCER'S FAERIE QUEENE. 
 
 \ < ..BY A )|[OTHi;S.;". •.;,.-.* ',, 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY E. R. BROADERS. 
 
 1836. 
 
TR3 
 
 zSt 
 
 >T^ 
 
 Entered according to an Act of Congress in the year ]836, 
 
 By E. R. Bb.oa.bers, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of 
 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 i, it) i 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 Samuel N. Dickinson, Printer, 
 
 52 Washington Street. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Charles Lamb's Tales of Shakspeare, and 
 James Cowden Clarke's Tales of Chaucer, sug- 
 gested writing out the Legends of the Faerie 
 Queene. For Spencer needs translation ; his 
 obsolete dialect throwing him out of the reach 
 of children, whom it is so desirable to interest 
 in the elder writers of English literature, and 
 to the youngest of whom a Tale of Chivalry is 
 always delightful. 
 
 But the peculiar charm of Spencer is, that a 
 profound philosophy of moral life pervades it, 
 which gradually dawns upon the reader — 
 
 " A new morn risen on mid noon;" 
 And this again and again, at the successive 
 stages of experience : for his stories are an 
 exhaustless mine of thought. 
 
IV. PREFACE. 
 
 To aid the developement of the allegory, a 
 few notes are added by the editor, who is not 
 the author of the tale. But it was not in- 
 tended to explain the allegory fully ; this would 
 require as many pages as the Tale itself. 
 
 The legends of Temperance, Chastity, Jus- 
 tice, &c. are in manuscript, — a source of delight 
 to such young persons as have access to them. 
 They will come forth at the call of the public. 
 
 December, 1835. 
 
LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Patron of true Holinesse 
 Foul Errour doth defeat ; 
 
 Hypocrisie him to entrappe 
 Doth to his home entreate. 
 
 In days of yore, when the spirit of chivalry yet 
 burned in every noble youth, there pricked forth one 
 morning, over the dewy plain, a gentle knight ; 
 bound by solemn oath to destroy a horrible dragon, 
 that was ravaging the finest country of antiquity. 1 
 
 He was clad in complete armour. His silver 
 shield which was not new, was marked with dints 
 of former battles ; 2 but this knight had never worn 
 arms before, and the noble animal on which he rode, 
 seemed unused to the bit : yet he wore his arms 
 gracefully, and his horse yielded to his manage, as 
 to one skilled in the noble art of horsemanship. 3 
 On his breast he bore a bloody cross, in dear re- 
 membrance of our Lord Jesus Christ, whom he 
 1 
 
M LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 adored alive and dead. And the same was graven 
 on his shield ; an emblem of his assured belief and 
 sovereign hope, that he should receive his aid in all 
 peril and dismay. 
 
 Fairly did the young knight sit his horse, ready 
 for knightly joust and fierce encounter. Right, 
 faithful, true, he seemed, in word and deed ; but his 
 air was solemn, for his purpose was high, involving 
 much weal or woe to others. He seemed one whom 
 an opposer should dread, but who could dread 
 nothing himself. A lovely lady and fair, but veiled 
 from head to foot, rode beside the knight, upon a 
 lowly ass, which was whiter than snow. The lady 
 seemed sad and heavy, as if she nourished some hid- 
 den care, and inly mourned. And over her snowy veil 
 she had thrown a black stole or cloak, an emblem of 
 her grieved spirit. But she looked, and was, as inno- 
 cent and pure as the milk-white lamb which she 
 led, tied to her saddle bow by a silken thread. 
 
 This lady was of royal lineage. Her ancestors 
 were kings and queens, who had once reigned from 
 east to west ; and had held the whole world in sub- 
 jection, until a terrible dragon, having laid waste 
 their kingdom with horrid uproar, had expelled the 
 reigning king and queen. 
 
 To avenge the wrongs of her much injured pa- 
 rents, their fair daughter had besought the services 
 of St. George, the noble knight of the Red Cross. 4 
 
OR HOLINESS. J 
 
 She had found him at the court of Gloriana, queen 
 of Faerie Land. 5 The knight was a devoted servant 
 of Gloriana, and desired nothing on earth so much, 
 as her grace and favour ; and Gloriana commanded 
 him to do justice to the lady Una's cause, and prove 
 his firmness, his honour, his virtue, and learn the 
 power of his own right arm, in battle with that 
 dragon, so terrible and stern. 
 
 This brave knight and lovely lady, had no atten- 
 dants except a dwarf, 6 who carried the lady's bag- 
 gage, and who seemed to lag behind as if weary with 
 his burden. 
 
 During the greatest part of that day on which the 
 knight and lady commenced their travels, the weather 
 was fine ; not a cloud was seen ; it was one of those 
 days when the heavens seem higher on account of 
 the clearness and brilliancy of the atmosphere. But, 
 suddenly, a cloud arose, the day was overcast, and 
 a violent, terrific storm of wind and rain, drove every 
 living thing to seek a shelter. The fair couple, who 
 had rode thus far in thoughtful sadness, absorbed by 
 the vast importance of events to come, were now 
 obliged to think of their own safety, and seek some 
 covert, from the pelting tempest. Not far distant 
 they saw a grove of lofty trees, which seemed to 
 promise security from wind and rain. 
 
 The trees were clothed with the rich drapery of 
 summer, and spread their broad arms so wide, and 
 
4 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 were so intertwined, so densely covered with foliage, 
 that they almost excluded the light of heaven. En- 
 tering this most glorious temple, built by Almighty 
 Love, they found it crossed by wide footpaths, much 
 worn, and leading deeper into the spacious interior. 
 They passed onward, delighted with the sweet har- 
 mony of the thronging birds who had flown thither 
 to shun the tempest, and they seemed to sing in joy- 
 ous exultation at escaping the cruel sky. 
 
 Every tree of the forest was found in this won- 
 derful grove. The pine, whose tall trunks furnish 
 masts for our noblest ships ; proud cedars ; elms 
 draped with vines of clustered grapes ; the polished 
 poplar ; the kingly oak ; the funereal cypress ; the 
 trembling aspen; the laurel whose varnished leaves 
 form the conquerors' and poets' meed ; the weeping 
 fir ; the willow sacred to forlorn and miserable lovers ; 
 the pliant yew ; the birch ; the healing myrrh ; the 
 useful ash ; the beech ; the fruitful olive ; the fair 
 round plantain ; and the hollow maple : all grew and 
 flourished in this one spot. 7 
 
 The knight, the lady, and their attendant, wander- 
 ed with delight among the trees and flowers of 
 this magnificent temple of nature, till the storm sub- 
 sided. They then endeavoured to return to the high- 
 road, but in vain. The more they wandered, the 
 more inextricable appeared the labyrinth. When 
 they believed themselves just about to reach the path 
 
OR HOLINESS. 5 
 
 desired, they would see that they were at the greatest 
 distance from it ; paths seemed to multiply ; and their 
 doubts about which they should take increased, till 
 they absolutely feared that their own wits were wan- 
 dering. At last, they resolved to go straight forward in 
 the most beaten path till they reached some end of 
 the labyrinth. Following this track, it finally brought 
 them to a hollow cave, in the thickest part of the 
 immense wood. The stout champion on seeing this, 
 dismounted from his courser, and gave his spear, 
 which was of no use to him then, to the dwarf. 
 
 The lady mildly recommended prudence to the 
 valiant youth : * Be well aware,' said she, * lest thou 
 provoke mischief, by being too rash. The danger, 
 if any, is hidden ; thou dost not know its extent nor 
 its nature ; the place is wild, unknown, and unin- 
 habited by beings like ourselves. Such circumstan- 
 ces breed dreadful doubts. Fire often slumbers 
 without smoke ; and there is often great peril, where 
 we see no appearance of danger; therefore, sir 
 knight, withhold all hostile strokes, till we have 
 ascertained what dangers are hid in this cave.' 
 
 1 Ah ! lady,' said he, c it were shame for me now 
 to hesitate, because the danger is hid. I have armed 
 in the cause of virtue ; and she will give me light, 
 by which to penetrate through darkness deep as that 
 of Erebus.' 
 
 6 1 know more of the perils of this place £ replied 
 1* 
 
O LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 the lady, ' than thou dost. It is indeed too late to 
 wish thee to turn back ; that would now be foul dis- 
 grace ; but Wisdom often warns us to stay our step, 
 even after the foot is within the gate, rather than be 
 forced to a retreat. This wood is called the Wan- 
 dering Wood ; and this is the cave of Error, a vile 
 monster whom God and man hate, therefore I say, 
 beware ! ' 
 
 * Oh, fly ! fly ! ' cried the terrified dwarf, * this is 
 no place for living men.' 
 
 But the youthful knight would not be checked. 
 Full of fire, and greedy of hard earned fame, he 
 hastened to the mouth of the den. It was deep and 
 dark. He entered, and his glittering armour cast a fit- 
 ful, uncertain light on a hideous object within ; but he 
 saw the ugly monster plainly. She was half woman, 
 half serpent ; loathsome, filthy, and her look was full 
 of vile disdain. She lay stretched upon the earth, 
 with her long huge tail spread over the whole den ; 
 and yet, it was not unrolled, but wound up in knots, 
 and every knot was pointed with a mortal sting. 
 Around this frightful creature, were playing a thou- 
 sand young ones, who were daily fed with her pois- 
 onous milk. They were variously shaped, but all 
 were ill favoured. When the light, from the armour 
 of the adventurous champion fell upon this odious 
 group of young monsters, they instantly crept into 
 the mouth of their dam, who rushed forthwith from 
 
OR HOLINE SS. 7 
 
 her cave, hurling about her head her hideous tail, 
 which was now stretched out in its whole enormous 
 length. She looked fiercely round, but seeing the 
 armed knight, she was terrified, and attempted to 
 turn back into her cave, for she hated the light, and 
 loved darkness, where she could neither be plainly 
 seen, nor see others plainly. 
 
 When the valiant knight perceived that his enemy 
 was about to fly from him, he sprang fiercely, like an 
 enraged lion, upon his prey ; and boldly placed his 
 sword across the mouth of the den. This act an- 
 gered the monster, and she began to bray horribly ; 
 and, turning about her speckled tail, armed with 
 poisoned darts, she threatened to sting him. But he 
 was not dismayed; and with his mighty arm, he 
 struck her a violent blow, which glanced from her 
 head to her shoulder. It made her dizzy for a mo- 
 ment, and enkindled within her tenfold rage ; and 
 gathering herself up into a posture for leaping, she 
 sprang high, and winding her enormous tail about 
 her, fell with fierce power, upon the shield of our 
 knight, whose body she instantaneously enfolded in 
 her fearful instrument of mischief; 
 
 ' God help the man, thus wrapped in Error's endless train I' 
 
 Then the lady, when she saw her noble champion 
 under such sore constraint, cried out ; ' Now, now, 
 sir knight, show thy valour, and let us know what 
 
8 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 thou art ! Add faith in God to thy natural power, 
 and faint not. If thou dost not strangle the monster^ 
 she will assuredly strangle thee. 5 
 
 When the knight heard this, perplexity, grief, 
 anger, and disdain united to knit together all the 
 forces of his mind and body; 8 and he freed one 
 hand from the twisted monster. With this he 
 grasped her throat, and with a power, that soon 
 obliged her to uncoil the tail she had wound about 
 him. 
 
 But, determined on his destruction, she threw 
 out from her filthy stomach a flood of poison, 
 with lumps of flesh, that smelled so vilely, mortal 
 man could not endure it. The knight relaxed his 
 grasp, and turned from her in utter abhorrence: 
 looking down upon the nauseous matters that she 
 continued to throw from her beastly mouth, what 
 was his astonishment to see books, and papers, 
 with loathsome frogs and toads without eyes, that 
 crept away among the weedy grass, to hide them- 
 selves, as things abhorred. For so the monster de- 
 filed all the place round about the den ; not un- 
 like the Nile, which, proudly swelling above the 
 vales of Egypt, spreads a fatty slime over the 
 plains, and fertilizes wherever he leaves his rich 
 heaps of mud, in which breed creatures, male 
 and female, ugly and monstrous — such as are 
 found in no other country. The noble knight 
 
OR H OLINE S S . V 
 
 was so annoyed by such sights and smells, thatfhe 
 grew faint, and could not fight. 
 
 When the fiend perceived that his courage fal- 
 tered, she poured forth all her spawn of infant ser- 
 pents — deformed, monstrous, and black. They 
 swarmed about the hero, crawled upon his legs, 
 and encumbered him sorely; but they could not 
 hurt him. They were as harmless to him as the 
 musquitoes 9 which hover around some gentle 
 shepherd, who stands on a high hill at even-tide, 
 watching his sheep while they feed on the beauti- 
 ful plains around and below him. 
 
 At length, the knight, harassed by such vile 
 means of annoyance, and more fearful of shame 
 and disgrace than of death, rushed furiously upon 
 the monster — resolved to conquer or die. And 
 with more than mortal force, in one blow, he struck 
 the head from her filthy body, and a stream of 
 coal-black blood gushed from the headless corpse. 
 
 The brood of young serpents, seeing their mother 
 fall, and hearing her groans, gathered about her, 
 and tried to find her mouth, their usual entrance 
 to her body in times of danger or alarm. This 
 was now closed for ever to them; therefore they 
 flocked around her bleeding body, and sucked up 
 their mother's blood, making her death the means 
 of their life. This detestable sight shocked the 
 valiant knight. He saw with horror these imps, 
 
10 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 accursed of heaven, devouring their mother; but 
 while he gazed upon them, they began to swell in 
 consequence of eating to excess. Yet they would not 
 stop from the gluttonous repast, till they burst, 
 and their bowels gushed forth upon the ground. 
 c O ! worthy end of such as you,' exclaimed the 
 knight, — 'you, who have drunk the life-blood 
 of her that nursed you ! ' 
 
 Thus ended the first adventure of our chival- 
 rous youth ; and the lady, who from a distance 
 had witnessed his heroic firmness, now approached 
 to congratulate him on his victory. l Fair knight,' 
 said she, 'thou wert born under a happy star, 
 thy foe lies dead before thee. Thou hast proved 
 thyself worthy of thine armour, in which thou hast 
 this day won great glory. Thy strength has been 
 tried upon a powerful enemy, and thou hast been 
 successful. Mayst thou have many such adven- 
 tures, and in all have like success.' 
 
 The young knight then remounted his steed, and 
 with the lady, went back from- the den, keeping 
 the beaten path, and never turning either to the 
 right or left. Patiently pursuing this straight course, 
 it brought them at last into the high road, from 
 which the tempest had driven them. They trav- 
 elled a long way before any new adventure oc- 
 curred; but the knight was patient and persever- 
 ing ; God was his friend, and with his favor and 
 
 
OR HOLINESS, 11 
 
 approbation, he doubted not that success and honor 
 would reward his honorable efforts. 
 
 After riding many miles, they met upon the 
 road an aged man. He was dressed in a long 
 black garment. His feet were bare, his beard grey ; 
 and he had books hanging to the leathern belt 
 which confined his cassock. He appeared sage and 
 sober ; his eyes were bent upon the ground ; and 
 he seemed engaged in prayer ; and by the frequent 
 smiting of his breast, it seemed to be the prayer 
 of a penitent. 
 
 The knight saluted the venerable man with a 
 lowly bend, which the old man returned with all 
 the courtesy belonging to those chivalrous times. 
 They then fell into conversation ; the young trav- 
 eller inquiring of the old man if he knew of any 
 strange adventures abroad. 
 
 He replied, ' my dear son, alas ! how should a 
 silly old man, secluded in a hidden cell from all 
 intercourse with the world, and whose whole busi- 
 ness, the long, long day, is telling his beads as 
 penance for his sins, know any thing about adven- 
 tures, of wars, and worldly troubles ? It does not 
 become a holy Father to meddle with such affairs 
 as these. But if you desire to hear of dangers that 
 surround us, of home bred evils, I can tell you more 
 than you may like to listen to ; I can tell you tidings 
 of a strange man, that wastes all this country far 
 and near.' 
 
12 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 'It is of such, 5 replied the knight, 'that I in- 
 quire, and wish to hear ; and if you will guide me 
 to the place where this destructive being harbours, 
 I will give you a rich reward. It is foul disgrace 
 to all knighthood, that such a creature has lived 
 so long.' 
 
 'It is very far from here,' said the old man, 
 1 and in a vast wilderness ; and no living man can 
 ever pass that dwelling place of his without ex- 
 periencing great distress.' 
 
 ' It draws towards night,' said the lady to her 
 companion, ' and thou art already over- wearied by 
 thy late contest with the monster. No man is 
 strong as not to require rest to renew his power 
 The sun, that measures heaven during the day, 
 sinks to rest with his steeds in the ocean waves at 
 night. Like the sun, then, take thou a timely rest 
 and begin a new day with new work. It is said 
 that an untroubled night gives the best counsel.' 
 
 ' You are right well advised, sir knight,' said the 
 aged man, ' you will win by taking wise advice. The 
 day is too far spent for travel, and if it suit your 
 wishes, fair lady, and yours, sir, let my cell be 
 your inn to night.' 
 
 The young travellers gladly accepted the old man's 
 hospitality. His hermitage was lowly, and situated 
 in a deep dale on the verge of a magnificent forest. 
 It was far from the resort of people ; even from all, 
 
OR HOLINESS, 13 
 
 who travelled the high way. Near it was a holy 
 chapel, in which the hermit offered his daily devo- 
 tions ; and a beautiful stream of chrystal water flowed 
 round it. The stream issued from a sacred foun- 
 tain, which welled up continually near a cleft rock, 
 within sight of the consecrated spot. The hermitage 
 was so small that the little party completely filled it. 
 They neither received nor expected food. Rest was 
 all the feast they wished for. Noble minds are al- 
 ways content in the circumstances in which Provi- 
 dence places them. The old man entertained his 
 guests with pleasing words, of which he had a liberal 
 store. His tongue was smooth as glass. He told of 
 saints and popes ; said an Ave Maria between every 
 tale he recited ; and kept his hearers most agreeably 
 engaged till Morpheus weighed down their eye-lids 
 with his sweet slumber-inspiring dew. 
 
 When their host saw the wearied travellers obey 
 a power they could not resist, with great show of 
 hospitality, he provided lodging for each of the 
 wearied travellers. But as soon as he knew they 
 were sound asleep, the old magician went to his 
 study, and there, among his magic books, and with 
 arts of various kinds, he sought for the mighty 
 charm, by which he troubled people who were 
 asleep. He chose out a few horrible words, with 
 which he framed some verses ; and, joining to these, 
 other terrible spells, he called on the grisly wife of 
 2 
 
14 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 Pluto ; cursed heaven ; and spake reproachfully of 
 the God he had just pretended to adore. He was a 
 bold bad man, who dared to call upon the name of 
 one, who is styled the prince of darkness, the great 
 Gorgon ; from whom it is said that even the river 
 Styx flees in terror, and at whose name Cocytus 
 trembles to its lowest depth. 
 
 He next called to his assistance legions of 
 sprites, and they fluttered about the head of this 
 wicked man like flies, and inquired what services 
 he demanded of them ; — whether to aid his 
 friends, or frighten his enemies ? Having selected 
 two, who were particularly cunning; who could 
 tell lies, that seemed like truth ; to one of these 
 he gave a message ; the other he retained with him- 
 self, to do some other work of darkness. The mes- 
 senger sped through the air, and through the world 
 of waters, with the rapidity of light ; seeking the 
 house of Morpheus, that god, who, it is said, dwells 
 in the very bowels of the earth, where day never 
 dawned, where Cynthia steeps his head in silver 
 dew, and Tethys laves his bed with water, and 
 Night spreads over him her dark mantle. 
 
 The sprite found the doors of Morpheus' dwelling 
 locked. One door was framed of burnished ivory, 
 the other was overlaid with silver. Two dogs 
 guarded these doors, lest Care should enter in, who 
 is the enemy of sleep, and often troubles him. But 
 
OR HOLINESS. 15 
 
 the sprite passed through the doors, and along by the 
 dogs, unharmed, and placed himself by the drowsy 
 Morpheus, who was drowned so deep in slumber that 
 he took care of nothing. To lull himself to sleep, he 
 had caused a gentle stream to flow down from a 
 high rock near his house, and a soft rain to drizzle 
 continually upon the roof. To these lulling sounds 
 he also united that sweet murmuring wind, which, 
 like the hum of bees, induces slumber. He allowed 
 no noises, like those which annoy the sleeper in 
 towns and cities, to be heard in all his domain, but, 
 wrapt in eternal silence, he lay quiet, like one dead, 
 and safe from all living enemies. 
 
 The sprite, whom the old man sent, spoke repeat- 
 edly to Morpheus before he could wake him. At 
 last he rudely pushed and thrust him, till he pro- 
 duced pain. This roused him a little and he stretch- 
 ed himself and yawned. Then the sprite shook 
 him hard, till he forced him to speak ; yet he spoke 
 like one in a dream, mumbling softly to himself, as 
 if he was troubled with strange sights and queer 
 fancies. At last the sprite became impatient, and 
 threatened the drowsy god with punishment from 
 the dreaded Hecate. At this threat Morpheus rou- 
 sed himself, and lifting up his lumpish head, half an- 
 grily blamed the sprite ; asking him for what he came ? 
 
 1 1 came hither,' he replied, ' in obedience to 
 Archimago, him, who can tame the most stubborn 
 
16 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 sprites, and enforce their services. He bids you 
 send to him a false dream, fit to delude sleepers.' 
 Morpheus obeyed instantly; for he dreaded the 
 power of that wicked magician, Archimago. He 
 called, from the deep recesses of his dark prison- 
 house, a dream, strange and diverse, and delivering 
 it to the sprite, sunk down again to sleep, devoid of 
 all care, and his senses completely benumbed. The 
 sprite flew directly through the ivory door, cheerful 
 as a lark, and flew homeward to his lord, bearing 
 upon his little wings the fatal dream. 
 
 Archimago, in the mean time, by his hellish arts 
 and charms had formed out of the other sprite a 
 beautiful lady. He took liquid air to form her love- 
 liest features, and they were so lively and so like 
 real life, that they would have deceived the wisest 
 man, and even the old magician himself fell in love 
 with his own workmanship, so goodly was it, and so 
 natural. When he had finished making the lady, 
 he wrapt her in a white veil, and threw over it a 
 black hood or shorter veil, and she looked precisely 
 like the beautiful Una, the companion and lady-love 
 of the knight of the Red Cross. As soon as the 
 sprite came back, who had been sent to Morpheus 
 for the dream, — Archimago commanded him to 
 fly to the couch of the knight, who, innocent, and 
 free from evil thoughts, was sleeping soundly in the 
 bed which Archimago had prepared for him ; and 
 
OR HOIINESS. 17 
 
 he bade him abuse his fancy with false visions, 
 which were to be so gross and wicked, that the old 
 man told them privately to the sprite. 
 
 Archimago next summoned the false lady that he 
 had made, and whose mind he had filled with guile ; 
 and he taught her how to imitate the true and beau- 
 tiful Una, whom she exactly resembled outwardly. 
 Being thus instructed, the creatures of magic went 
 together to the recess where the knight slept. The 
 sprite alighted on his head, and filled his brain with 
 idle and wicked dreams, suggesting thoughts that 
 never before entered his chaste and virtuous mind. 
 He dreamed that his beloved Una had become en- 
 slaved to pleasure ; that she had lost her purity, and 
 wished to lead him into crime ; and that Venus, the 
 sovereign queen of beauty, was leading the fair but 
 corrupted woman to his chamber. Now as he had 
 always thought of Una as a pure and holy being, the 
 daughter of a king, and high, even above his hopes, 
 such a dream shocked him, and disturbed his slum- 
 bers. Presently he heard music, and imagined that 
 he heard the Graces singing the nuptial song, called 
 in his time Hymen io hymen ; and that he saw them 
 dancing, and that Flora crowned Una with a fresh 
 garland of ivy. He started from his sleep, greatly 
 agitated. He feared that some hidden foe was trying 
 to work his destruction. He always feared to do 
 wrong, of nothing else was this noble youth afraid ; 
 2 # 
 
18 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 therefore he kept strict guard even over his sleeping 
 thoughts. Who then can realize his horror, when 
 he rose from his distressing dream, to see his lady, 
 his modest and lovely Una, standing at his bedside ! 
 
 It was the false lady made by the wicked Archi- 
 mago ; but of this, the knight knew nothing ; and 
 he was utterly dismayed. Her snowy veil, partly 
 shrouded in black, and her half concealed modest 
 look, made him certain that it was indeed Una who 
 stood before him; and enraged at her improper 
 boldness in thus intruding upon him, he was about 
 to kill her on the spot, but wisely paused lest his 
 senses had deceived him. The false creature then 
 began to wring her hands and weep, saying, ' Ah, 
 sir, my liege lord, my only love ! cruel fate, and the 
 wicked god of love have forced me to approach you 
 unbidden ; upon you I depend for life or death ; for 
 your dear sake I left my father's kingdom.' Here 
 she burst into tears as if overcome by sensibility, but 
 soon went on, < I am young and weak, and fly to you 
 for succour, let me not die.' 
 
 'Why dame,' he replied, 'What are you dis- 
 mayed about ? What frightens you ? You, who used 
 to comfort me in danger, and encourage me to brave- 
 ry and perseverance.' 
 
 She replied, c Love for you deprives me of sleep ; 
 and while you are sunk in profound repose, I spend 
 the long weary night in anguish.' 
 
OR HOLINESS, 19 
 
 These words made the knight suspect her truth ; 
 her love was too fawning, and he despised, yet was 
 unwilling to disgrace her. Answering her therefore 
 mildly, he said, ' Dear dame, I am sorry that for my 
 sake such unknown griefs await you, I have ever 
 deemed your love as dear as my life, and I hold my- 
 self bound to you. So do not let any vain fears dis- 
 tress you. There is no cause. Depart, therefore, to 
 your rest.' 10 
 
 She obeyed, for the false creature found that the 
 good knight was proof against her arts. However, 
 he was much disturbed ; for, as he believed it was 
 his Una, with whom he had been talking, the idea 
 took possession of his brain, that she was not so good 
 as he once thought her ; and, for a long time, he 
 could not sleep. At last he was so wearied that he 
 sunk again to rest, and the mischievous sprite once 
 more settled on his head, and made him dream 
 about ladies' bowers, and many things, that were re- 
 pugnant to his noble and correct principles. 
 

CHAPTER IT. 
 
 The guileful great Enchanter parts 
 The Red Cross Knight from Truth ; 
 
 Into whose stead fair Falsehood steps 
 And works him fearful ruth. 
 
 It was nearly morning. The steadfast star, to the 
 northern world a guide in all their wanderings over 
 the mighty deep, shone faintly, as the fiery car of 
 Phoebus began to climb over the eastern hill ; and 
 the cheerful note of chanticleer had already given 
 his warning to sleeping mortals, that day was ap- 
 proaching, when those wicked messengers from hell, 
 the false dream, and the sprite, who had assumed the 
 form of the lovely Una, came to their cruel master, 
 and told him that they had entirely failed of success, 
 that all their pains to deceive had been bootless. 
 
 Archimago was enraged when he found that his 
 mighty skill had been of no use ; he raved at them, 
 and threatened them with infernal pains, and the 
 wrath of Proserpine ; but he soon perceived that his 
 anger would be of no avail. The best way would 
 be to search his books of art, and, by their aid, to 
 contrive some new means of deceiving the young 
 
22 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 knight and his fair companion. So he took that mis- 
 created woman, whom he had made with the imp 
 and air, and placed her in a retired apartment ; and 
 then he took the sprite which he had made to re- 
 semble the false dream, and, enveloping him in a 
 cloud of air, gave to him the appearance of a young 
 esquire or gentleman, of gay manners, and light and 
 fashionable habits. This youth he led to the apart- 
 ment of the false lady, so like to Una outwardly, that 
 none but the most careful observer could trace one 
 shade of difference. The youth was directed to ap- 
 pear very fond of the lady, and she was to treat him 
 with all the tenderness she could bestow upon a hus- 
 band. This done, the vile magician flew with ap- 
 parent agony and terror to the room of the young 
 knight, who, after many troubled dreams, had just 
 sunk into a quiet slumber; and he called aloud, 
 6 Rise, rise, unhappy swain ! Lie not here, waxing 
 old in sleep, while your false lady gives all her Jove 
 and sweet attentions to another. Rise, and with true 
 knightly honour revenge your wrong ! ' 
 
 The Red Cross Knight started up in amazement, 
 and seizing his sword, followed the old man to the 
 apartment, as he thought, of his Una. He saw the 
 young couple ; his jealousy was awakened ; the eye 
 of reason was darkened, and had it not been for the 
 aged sire, the vile Archimago, he would have slain 
 them both. 11 He returned to his bed in^torment and 
 
OR HOLINESS. 23 
 
 bitter anguish. The guilty sight he had just witness- 
 ed deprived him of rest, and eat into his very heart. 
 He was tired of life, tired of the lingering night. 
 
 At last the morning star extinguished his lamp, 
 and brought forth the dawn. The knight rose, with 
 a wearied spirit, and hastily putting on his armour 
 summoned his attendant dwarf, 12 and rode rapidly 
 away, leaving Una, whom the wicked magician had 
 made him believe false and dishonored, alone and 
 desolate. 
 
 When the rosy fingered morning, weary of the 
 saffron bed of aged Tithones, had spread through 
 the air her purple robe, and discovered the high hills 
 of Titan, the royal maiden, the innocent and lovely 
 Una, shook off the drowsy feelings that hung about 
 her, and went forth from her humble bower, to look 
 after her knight. It is not easy to describe her sur- 
 prise and anguish, when told that he had left her, and 
 even taken away her dwarf, who was wont to wait 
 with all duty upon her, every hour. She wept ; but 
 she did not despair, resolving to be true to her plight- 
 ed vows, and to follow wherever he had chosen to 
 go. 13 The animal she rode was gentle, but slow of 
 foot ; and with her utmost exertion she vainly en- 
 deavoured to overtake the rapid courser, whose usual 
 speed was increased by the anger and disdain that 
 had seized the distracted knight and urged him on- 
 ward, with unwonted fury. But though the lady 
 
24 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 found it impossible to overtake her lover, yet she 
 gave no rest to her weary limbs. She searched every 
 hill and dale, every wood, and every plain, to find 
 him she loved ; her gentle bosom filled with grief, to 
 think he had so ungently left her. 
 
 The subtle Archimago, when he found his plan 
 had succeeded, and that the faithful knight was part- 
 ed from his lady love, and that Una was wandering 
 alone through woods and forests ; was delighted at 
 the success of his wicked arts, that had so destroyed 
 the peace of two faithful and affianced lovers. He 
 had meant to separate them ; but this did not con- 
 tent him. Una was particularly hateful to him ; for 
 how can truth be agreeable to hypocrisy ? He abhor- 
 ed her more than a hissing snake, and exulted in all 
 that he could make her suffer. Therefore setting his 
 evil imagination to work, he determined to disguise 
 himself; for by the mighty aid of magical science, 
 he could take upon himself as many forms as Proteus 
 could. Sometimes he was a fowl in the air, some- 
 times a fish swimming in a lake; then again he 
 would be a fox ; and then a dragon ; and was often 
 himself frightened at the horrid forms he assumed. 
 What power there is in herbs ! And who can con- 
 ceive the wondrous might of magic ! At this time, 
 he resolved to assume the semblance of the Knight 
 of the Red Cross, that he might pursue and deceive 
 
OR HOLINESS. 25 
 
 the beautiful Una, and work her farther harm in one 
 way or another. 
 
 Accordingly he clothed his limbs in armour, took 
 a silver shield, and wore upon his coward breast, a 
 blood Red Cross. He wore also a bunch of various- 
 ly coloured hair upon his crest ; and he looked in all 
 respects, when seated upon his free and noble cour- 
 ser, like St. George himself. 
 
 Alas ! the true St. George, whose semblance he 
 thus put on, was wandering far away, flying from 
 his own thoughts and from his jealous fears ; guided 
 only by Will led astray by grief! While he was 
 driving, he neither knew nor cared whither, in true 
 anguish of spirit, a faithless Saracen chanced to 
 meet him. He was completely armed, and Sansfoy 
 was written in large letters on his enormous shield. 
 He was tall, large of limb, and cared neither for God 
 nor man. The knight had with him a fair com- 
 panion, a goodly lady ; she was clad in rich apparel, 
 of scarlet, gold and pearl. She wore upon her head 
 something that resembled a Persian mitre, ornament- 
 ed with crowns, and golden buttons ; a present be- 
 stowed upon her by her lovers. Her palfrey also 
 was adorned with tinsel trappings woven like waves, 
 and her bridle was decorated with golden bells, 
 and other ornaments. She rode gaily by the side of 
 the knight, and entertained him with light and frivo- 
 3 
 
26 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 lous discourse. But when she saw St. George, the 
 Knight of the Red Cross, advancing, she checked 
 her mirth, and bade her own knight prepare for com- 
 bat. She told him his foe was at hand, and now was 
 the moment to prove his valour. This roused his 
 pride, and hoping to win the heart of his lady by his 
 prowess, he spurred his horse, so cruelly, towards 
 the Red Cross Knight, that his sides were bathed in 
 blood, which stained the path way as he rode. 
 
 St. George, when he beheld him spurring on with 
 such hot unpitying rage, couched his spear, and rode 
 towards him, and they met with equal fury. Their 
 steeds staggered and stood amazed, stunned with the 
 force of the fierce encounter, and the knights them- 
 selves were astonished at the strokes of their own 
 hands, and recoiled from each other. They were 
 like two rams, roused by ambitious pride to fight for 
 supreme rule over a flock of richly fleeced sheep. 
 Their horned fronts meet on either side with such 
 sudden power, that the shock terrifies and astonishes 
 both ; and they stand senseless as blocks, forgetting 
 that the victory is yet undecided. So stood the 
 knights, unmoved as rocks, staring fiercely, and each 
 holding the broken relics of former cruelty in his 
 palsied hand. At last, they began to breathe again, 
 and the Saracen, though sorely stunned with the 
 blow, snatched his sword, and furiously assaulted 
 the Red Cross Knight, who returned blow for blow ; 
 
OR HOLINESS. 27 
 
 and each envied the strength and power of the other. 
 They severally try to find some spot in their mailed 
 armour through which a sword can enter. Neither 
 yields one foot to the other ; the fire flashes from 
 their burning shields, as from a forge; and blood 
 flows in streams over the grassy heath. 
 
 ' Curse on that cross,' exclaimed the Saracen, ' it 
 is that which keeps thy bosom from my sword. 
 Dead long ago, thou wouldst have been, if that charm 
 had not protected thee ; and yet I warn thee not to 
 be secure^thy head may yet be mine.' So saying, 
 he aimed a furious blow at the crest of St. George, 
 hewed away a large part of it, and his sword glanced 
 down the silver shield with astounding force. Won- 
 drous wroth, at receiving so severe a blow, St. George 
 roused himself anew ; the sleeping^spark of native 
 virtue was rekindled, his arm renerved, and with an 
 irresistible power, he clave thehelmet of the haugh- 
 ty Saracen and inflicted a mortal wound ; Sansfoy fell 
 in the agonies of death from his horse to the blood- 
 stained earth. A few moments the soul struggled 
 with the perishing body, and then fled to that world 
 where souls that have lived amiss, must render an 
 account to Him from whom they received power to 
 be good. 
 
 When the lady saw that her knight was slain, 
 and beheld him fall like the ruins of some broken 
 tower from the noble courser that he so lately graced 
 
28 L E*G END OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 with knightly beauty, she fled in dire dismay. The 
 Knight of the Red Cross commanded his dwarf to 
 take charge of the Saracen's shield as the trophy of 
 his conquest, and himself rode rapidly after the 
 lady. He soon overtook her, and with great cour- 
 tesy assured her she had no cause for dismay. Turn- 
 ing back, she looked up, with a sad countenance, 
 crying, < mercy, mercy, sir knight! vouchsafe to 
 show mercy to a silly dame, subject at the same 
 moment, to so severe a mischance, and to your 
 mighty will.' 
 
 Her humble tones, and her rich and seemingly 
 glorious attire, moved the heart of the heroic knight. 
 ' Dear dame,' said he, * your sudden misfortune af- 
 flicts me ; but put apart all fear, and tell me, who 
 you are, and who he was, that I but now have reft 
 of lifer' 
 
 The lady melted into tears, and began her la- 
 mentation in these words : < I am a wretched wo- 
 man, whom one unhappy hour has betrayed into 
 your hands, and made subject to your will. But, 
 before this cruel moment, I was (O, what avails it to 
 tell what I was!) the sole daughter of an emperor, 
 who reigned over western Europe, and had his high 
 throne on the far famed Tiber. My father, in the 
 first and freshest flower of youth, bethrothed me to 
 the only son and heir of a mighty monarch ; one 
 who was rich and wise. The prince was faithful, 
 
OR HOLINESS. 29 
 
 beautiful in person, meek yet gay, brave yet gentle, 
 and full of princely virtues. But — my bridal day 
 never came. My dearest lord fell from his high 
 honors, by the arts of a cruel foe ; and was mur- 
 dered. His body, ( I never knew how nor by 
 whom,) was removed, and hid from me. He died 
 innocent ; and my sorrow was so deep, my sad soul 
 so full of woe, that I resolved, as the only solace I 
 could have, to find his loved remains, and have travel- 
 led throughout the world, alas, in vain ! for that one 
 only object. This proud Saracen met me in my 
 wanderings, and has led me by force, ever since, 
 wherever he chose to go, striving to win my love ; 
 but 1 abhorred the wretch, always proud and now 
 dishonored. He was the eldest son of a bad father, 
 and was called proud Sansfoy. He had two broth- 
 ers, the older of whom is called the bloody bold 
 Sansloy, and the younger is simply named Sans- 
 joy. You see me therefore in a sad plight, friend- 
 less, unfortunate, and miserable. Do not, sir knight, 
 injure the unhappy Fidesse. If it does not please 
 you to do me any service, I entreat that you would 
 not do me any ill.' 
 
 The words of this seemingly afflicted and lovely 
 lady, excited strong emotion in the knight, who 
 eyed her beautiful person with even more attention 
 than he paid to her sad story, and he said, 'fair 
 lady, a heart of flint would be moved by such a 
 3* 
 
30 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 tale of woe and sorrow, as you have related. Hence- 
 forth you may rest in safety. You have found a 
 new friend and lost an old enemy. 5 
 
 At these words, the seeming simple girl looked up 
 with a cheered countenance, and letting her eyes 
 fall modestly towards the earth, yielded to the 
 knight's proposals and they rode on their way; he 
 feigning a becoming mirth, and cheerful conversa- 
 tion, and she assuming coy looks, and a modesty of 
 deportment, entirely foreign to her nature. 
 
 They travelled for a long time in this manner, till 
 they became weary, and desirous to find some favor- 
 able spot, in which they could repose themselves. 
 The good Knight at last espied two large and beauti- 
 ful trees, within a few rods of the path in which they 
 were riding. Their broad arms spread wide in every 
 direction, richly coated with moss, and bearing a 
 thick foliage of deepest green. The delicate leaves 
 trembled with the passing gale, and cast a deep and 
 calm shadow over a turf, which was enamelled with 
 flowers of rarest beauty. Yet, at these trees the 
 fearful shepherd looked aghast, and never sat be- 
 neath them, never tuned there his merry oaten pipe ; 
 but shunned them in undisguised dismay. 
 
 But the knight, in his single heartedness, uncon- 
 scious of evil, rode hastily to take advantage of the cool 
 shade they afforded ; for the golden chariot of Phcebus 
 had reached its highest point in heaven, and he was 
 
OR HOLINESS, 31 
 
 hurling thence vertical beams, so scorching hot that 
 no living creature could abide them. The lady, 
 almost fainting from the intense heat, eagerly fol- 
 lowed her companion to the refreshing shade. 
 Both alighted from their weary steeds, and seated 
 themselves on the rural seat, which nature appeared 
 to have formed there on purpose to accommodate 
 a tired traveller. The spot was delightful; the 
 young knight began a lively pleasant conversation, 
 in which the lady joined with all imaginable grace 
 and modesty, and to his abused fancy, she appeared 
 the loveliest creature he had yet seen. With gentle 
 wit, and most refined manner, he bent all his powers, 
 to amuse and entertain the fair being, so strangely 
 cast upon his protection. He looked up to the 
 beautiful tree, beneath which they sat, and thought a 
 garland of the rich and delicate leaves would become 
 her snowy forehead : — he plucked a bough ; but, 
 wonderful to relate ! drops of blood trickled from 
 the broken limb, and, after a piteous yell of agony, he 
 heard these words pronounced, ' O spare me ! do 
 not with guilty hands tear my tender sides. I am 
 embedded in this rough bark ! Fly, fly away ! — 
 ah ! fly far hence, lest the same horrid fate overtake 
 you, as that which has imprisoned me here forever ; 
 and not me only, but also my dear and wretched 
 lady. — O, too dear! for her love was bought by 
 death ! ' 
 
32 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 The knight, astounded, was stiffened with hor- 
 ror ; his hair rose, he could not move a limb ! 
 When the first effect of the sudden and dreadful 
 shock had passed, and his manly spirit began to 
 awaken from the stupifying blow, he still mused 
 in deep astonishment, and even doubted his senses : 
 it was so strange, that conjecture could afford no 
 reason ; at last he exclaimed : ' What voice from 
 the lake of limbo — what condemned ghost — what 
 guileful sprite, wandering amid illimitable air, utters 
 such words as have just met my astonished ear ? — 
 Who complains thus ? Who bids me spare guilt- 
 less blood ? ' 
 
 Deeply groaning, the tree replied, 'It is not a 
 damned ghost, neither is it a guileful sprite that 
 speaks these words to you. I am now a tree, but 
 once I was a man. My name was Fradubio. — I 
 am wretched in both my natures, as a tree and as a 
 man ; for, though appearing to be a tree, I experience 
 suffering both from heat and cold. The blast of 
 Boreas falls bitter upon me, and the scorching sun 
 dries up my secret veins. I was transformed to this 
 tree by the cursed arts of a most cruel witch, and by 
 her placed in this open plain, exposed to all the ex- 
 tremes of heat and cold.' 
 
 'Say on,' said the good knight, 'say on, Fra- 
 dubio; whether thou be man or tree, tell whose 
 
OR HOLINESS. 33 
 
 mischievous arts misshaped thee thus. It is medi- 
 cine to the afflicted mind to obtain sympathy for 
 imparted griefs — hearts are doubly pained that 
 conceal their sorrows, as flames rage the fiercer, 
 when ineffectual means are taken to suppress 
 them.' 
 
 6 Sir knight,' replied the metamorphosed Fra- 
 dubio, i I will tell thee the story of my sorrows. A 
 sorceress, named Duessa, was the author of them all, 
 who has brought wretchedness upon many a knight 
 errant beside me. When I was in the prime of 
 youth, full of courage, and fired with the joy of 
 chivalrous exploits, it was my fate to love this 
 gentle lady, who, though she seems to you a tree, 
 was then a fair and lovely woman. We were riding 
 one day, and chanced to meet a knight, who was 
 also accompanied by a fair lady. This lady was 
 the false Duessa. As we rode on together, the 
 stranger knight began to boast of the exceeding 
 beauty of his fair companion. He insisted that she 
 exceeded all other women, in the charms of mind 
 and person. 
 
 I, in turn, defended my own loved lady, who 
 shone in her beauty like the morning star. Our dis- 
 pute became bitter, and at last, a battle alone could 
 decide the important question. To it we went, with 
 the blind fury of madmen. I killed the knight, and 
 
34 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 his beautiful lady was the prize awarded me by 
 the law of arms. 
 
 I was now doubly loved : — one lady seemed to be 
 fair, the other was really so. Long in doubt which 
 was in fact the most beautiful of these Ladies, I de- 
 termined to compare them critically with each other, 
 and to give to the most charming a garland of 
 roses. I could not decide, both appeared to win. 
 Frselissa was as fair as mortal woman could be ; but 
 the false Duessa could, by her arts, assume a form 
 equally fair. I knew not what to do ; both won 
 the garland ; but both could not possess it. The 
 cruel witch soon perceived the difficulty she had 
 placed me in, and determined by farther efforts of 
 her hellish arts to deceive me still more, and oblige 
 me to yield the garland to her at once. 
 
 She accordingly raised about us a foggy mist; 
 the day became overcast; and presently a dull blast 
 swept along by us, and breathed on the face of my 
 loved Fraelissa ; 15 it dimmed her beauty, and gave to 
 her graceful limbs a look deformed and horrible. 
 I hesitated no longer, but gave the garland to the 
 seemingly fair Duessa. 
 
 As soon as she received it, she began to exult over 
 the injured and unfortunate Freelissa. i Fie, fie,' 
 she cried out, in a tone of triumph, ' thou art de- 
 formed and horrible ; where didst thou get thy bor- 
 
OR HOLINESS. 35 
 
 rowed beauties which have so bewitched our valiant 
 knight? It is plain that by some magic art thou 
 didst array thyself, which fails thee now, and leaves 
 thee to be disdained, rejected — aye, and it may be, 
 killed.' Hearing this, I believed that Freelissa was 
 a sorceress, and that I had bestowed my love on no 
 other than an imp of darkness. Enraged beyond con- 
 trol, I should have killed her on the spot, if the 
 vile Duessa had not restrained my hand, and trans- 
 formed the wretched lady to this tree, that thou 
 seest placed so near me. 
 
 Completely deceived by the artful woman, who 
 appeared more beautiful than language can describe, 
 I transferred to her my whole affection ; she became 
 my wife, and I enjoyed for a long time the greatest 
 happiness; but one day, O, never can that day be 
 forgotten ! the dreadful truth was disclosed to me. 
 Witches, on a certain day in every year, are obliged 
 to do penance for their crimes in their own forms. 
 It chanced that on that day I saw Duessa disrobed 
 of all her borrowed beauties, and bathing in water of 
 orange and thyme ; and to my horror and astonish- 
 ment 1 saw that she whom I had so long loved, and 
 for whose sake I had forgotten my beloved Fraelissa, 
 was a filthy, disgusting old woman, misshapen and 
 monstrous, so beastly in appearance that man never 
 could believe her human! What could be done? 
 
36 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 I could no longer lavish caresses on a being whose 
 real deformities had thus met my eye, and yet I 
 dreaded her power. She was a witch ; this was 
 undoubted ; and I well knew she had power to 
 destroy me ; and if I refrained from her society she 
 would suspect my truth, and wreak upon me her 
 vengeance. I endeavoured to withdraw gradually, 
 and hoped to slide unperceived from the toils she 
 had wound about me; for I loathed the deceptive 
 monster and could not touch so foul a thing. My 
 change of look and manner were too apparent. 
 She perceived my purpose, and one night, when fa- 
 tigue and anxiety had drowned my senses, and I 
 was sunk in profound repose, she besmeared my 
 body with wicked herbs and ointments, and 
 through their power, with other charms of magic, 
 she bereaved me entirely of sense. When this was 
 done, she had me conveyed to this desert waste, 
 placed me beside my wretched lover, enclosed me 
 fast in these wooden walls, and condemned us both 
 to spend our weary days, banished from living soci- 
 ety, exposed to raging elements, unpitied and un- 
 known.' 
 
 'And how long,' said the Red Cross Knight, 'are 
 you condemned to live in this misformed house ?' 
 
 ' We cannot change, and return to human shape,' 
 replied Fradubio, 'till we are bathed in a living 
 
OR HOLINESS. 37 
 
 Well. Such was the sentence, that has spell-bound 
 us to this desolate spot.' 
 
 c How may I find that Well,' inquired the knight, 
 c that will restore you again to the form and bearing 
 of humanity?' 
 
 6 1 know not,' said the disconsolate Fradubio ; 
 'when the fates are satisfied with our sufferings, 
 perhaps it will be found, and we shall be restored to 
 our own shape, but till that time, no human power 
 can remove us.' 
 
 Now the lady, whom the knight had won by 
 the death of the Saracen, was no other than that 
 very witch Duessa, who had fixed these two miser- 
 able lovers on this desert plain. She heard all that 
 Fradubio had spoken, and knew that he had spoken 
 truth. But the good knight was full of fear: a 
 living tree had spoken to him ; he had seen it bleed ; 
 he stood aghast at the sound and sight so strange. 
 At last, that he might be innocent of the blood of 
 this wonderful tree, he stopped the wound with 
 some clay, and thrust the broken bough into the 
 ground. Then turning about to see how his lady 
 bore so astonishing a scene, he beheld her sunk upon 
 the earth in a deadly swoon. 
 
 The artful creature pretended to faint from fear 
 
 and horror, at hearing what she already knew ; and 
 
 her faithful knight, believing that she had really 
 
 fallen into a deadly swoon, took great pains to re- 
 
 4 
 
38 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 store her; she had assumed a pallid hue, as if 
 dead; but when he breathed upon her eye-lids, 
 bathed her temples, raised her tenderly, and kissed 
 her pale cheek, and with many other kind efforts, 
 endeavoured to rekindle the spark of life, she 
 opened her eyes and smiled upon him, with a look 
 so true and sweet, that all fears passed from his 
 mind, and they soon resumed their eventful journey. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Forsaken Truth long seeks her love, 
 And makes the lion mild 5 
 Mars blind devotion's mart, and falls 
 
 In hands of villain vild. 
 
 There is nothing under the wide cope of heaven, 
 that moves the mind more strongly to compassion 
 than beauty suffering: ;unjustly, through envy and 
 the freaks of unkind fortune. I know not why it is, 
 whether I am blinded by her charms, or whether 
 the heart owes allegiance and fealty to all woman- 
 kind, but it is true, that my heart is pierced with 
 agony, and I well nigh die with pity, when I view 
 the unjust sufferings of a young and lovely woman. 
 Most deeply therefore do I feel the wrongs of the in- 
 jured Una, whose misfortunes I cannot relate 
 without tears of compassion, and indignation. She 
 was as true, as touch ; as guileless, as fair ; as virtu- 
 ous, as living lady could be ; yet a vile wizard 
 had parted her by cruel deceptions from her valiant 
 and true hearted knight ; and a witch, ugly and de- 
 formed, was enjoying the love and confidence due 
 only to his own betrothed Una. 
 
40 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 But this most faithful lady, though forsaken, wo- 
 ful, solitary, strayed through the wilderness, through 
 wild desert wastes, far from the haunts of men. 
 She became an exile, a self banished wanderer, in 
 hopes of finding her loved, but deceived and be- 
 trayed knight — betrayed by the vision, which the base 
 enchanter had wrought, as was before related. One 
 day, this lovely lady, well nigh wearied by the irk- 
 some slowness of the quiet animal on which she 
 rode, alighted, to repose her delicate form. She dis- 
 covered a cool retreat in deep shadow. It was se- 
 cure from the view of travellers, and she fearlessly 
 extended her weary limbs upon the grass ; untying 
 the fillet that bound her fair hair, and laying aside 
 the stole, which had shaded her from the burning 
 sun, and from the rude gaze of idle curiosity. Her 
 angel face shone like the great eye of heaven, 
 making sun-shine in the shady place. Mortal eye 
 never beheld such heavenly grace and beauty. 
 
 Thus, safely hidden from danger, as she believed, 
 she was enjoying gentle repose, so needful after her 
 long and wearisome journey through lonely paths 
 and unfrequented forests, when a lion, hungry, furi- 
 ous for blood, sprung suddenly from the thicket, 
 towards the astonished maiden. He opened his 
 enormous jaws as if determined to devour at once 
 her beautiful form ; but, gazing an instant at his vic- 
 tim, his fury subsided ; he seemed amazed ; remorse 
 
OR HOLINESS. 41 
 
 for his cruel purpose quelled his mighty force, and 
 instead of tearing her graceful limbs, he crept gently 
 towards her feet, kissed them, and with his fawning 
 tongue, licked affectionately her lily hands, seem- 
 ingly conscious that he beheld an innocent and in- 
 jured being. How powerful is beauty ! how it sub- 
 dues the violent and masters the strong ! And truth, 
 simple truth ; who can withstand its touching appeals 
 to the heart! The distressed Una, the royal and 
 beautiful maiden, who had suffered long by the cru- 
 elty of others now prepared herself to die. She saw 
 however, after a few dreadful moments, that the 
 pride of the kingly beast appeared to be yielding, 
 and that he drew near gently, but with proud submis- 
 sion, and began expressions of endearment in the 
 manner suitable to his brute nature. 16 
 
 Her heart melted into compassion at the sight, and 
 tears of pure affection bathed her cheek. For, see- 
 ing the lion, the proudest of animals, the lord of 
 every beast that roamed the forest, bowing his 
 princely nature, forgetting his hunger, and submit- 
 ting his pride of strength to her, a weak and helpless 
 woman, it brought home to her heart the conduct of 
 her noble lord. ' How, how,' she exclaimed, < does he 
 find it in his cruel soul to hate one, who adored him, 
 and loved him as the god of her life? This lion 
 pities me. Why does my lion, my betrothed one 
 abhor me ?' Tears choked her utterance as her sad 
 4# 
 
42 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 plaint was echoed from the neighboring wood. The 
 kingly beast gazed upon her with a calm and pitying 
 eye ; he seemed to read her sorrows in the anguish 
 of her looks and words. At last, however, by a 
 powerful effort, she subdued her spirit ; shut closely 
 within her heart, its keen distress; bound up her 
 flowing hair ; resumed the friendly veil, and, re- 
 mounting her snow white palfrey, began anew her 
 heart trying wanderings. The noble lion beheld her 
 desolate condition, and meekly followed the fair 
 traveller. He seemed to assume the office of guar- 
 dian to her person, and of a faithful mate, to share all 
 her troubles and misfortunes. When she slept, he 
 kept watch and ward, and when she waked, he wait- 
 ed diligently, as if prepared to do her bidding ; gazing 
 on her lovely features, and striving to learn her wishes 
 by their expression. 
 
 Accompanied by this strange companion, she trav- 
 elled a long time, through wide deserts where no 
 human being once crossed her path or met her view, 
 still hoping to meet her wayward knight ; again and 
 again sickened by the qualms of disappointment. 
 One day, after a long and tedious interval, when her 
 heart was sore oppressed, and every limb wearied by 
 excess of fatigue, she observed that the grass beneath 
 the feet of her palfrey, was trodden down, and that 
 the tracks of human feet were plainly discernible. 
 
 The path ran along the foot of a mountain ; she 
 
OR HOLINESS. 43 
 
 followed it, and at last saw a young damsel, walking 
 slowly and sadly with a pitcher of water on her 
 shoulder. Una called to her repeatedly, asking if 
 there was any dwelling place at hand ? The rude 
 wench hurried on without answering; for she could 
 neither hear, nor speak, nor understand. She 
 chanced, however, to look back, and seeing a mon- 
 strous lion so near to her, threw down her pitcher in 
 dismay, and fled rapidly towards her home. Never 
 before had been seen in that land, the face of a fail* 
 lady ; and the dreadful lion almost frightened her 
 into a deadly swoon. But she fled with such rapid- 
 ity, never once looking behind her, that she soon 
 reached her mother's cottage. Her mother was 
 blind, and sat in one eternal night. When the girl 
 arrived, she was so overcome with terror, that she 
 could not speak, but violently grasped her mother's 
 hand. Then suddenly closing the door, she again 
 laid her quaking hands upon her astonished parent, 
 evincing by every movement the extremity of fear. 
 
 It was not long before Una arrived, the weary 
 Una, and required entrance at the cottage door. 
 But the old woman and her daughter were too much 
 terrified to open it ; and the lady's unruly page, the 
 powerful lion, without ceremony undid the wicket, 
 with his rude claws, and gave her entrance, before 
 the terrified inmates recovered any presence of mind. 
 They had both sunk into a dark corner of the hut, 
 
44 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 a retreat in which the poor blind old woman, prayed 
 most of the day and night; counting her beads in 
 devout penitence, and repeating more than two thou- 
 sand Aves as her daily task. To increase the pains 
 of this heavy self-imposed duty, she sat three times 
 every week in ashes, wore next her shriveled skin a 
 rough sackcloth, and fasted nine times in every 
 twenty-seven days. Her terror at the fright and 
 agitation of her daughter, had now made her forget 
 her beads ; at this sin she was greatly troubled, and 
 the compassionate Una had much difficulty to soothe 
 and comfort the ancient devotee. After she had in 
 some degree effected this, and quieted the fears of 
 her daughter, she begged permission to remain in the 
 cottage all night. It was granted, and the sad lady 
 laid down to refresh her weary limbs. But she could 
 not sleep ; she lamented, and wept ; the loss of her 
 dear loved knight wrung groans and sighs from her 
 faithful bosom, which was bathed in tears the live 
 long night, and she looked impatiently for the dawn 
 of day. But gazing anxiously upon the star lit 
 heavens, she perceived that Aldebaron had mounted 
 high above the chair of the brilliant Cassiope ; that 
 day was far distant ; and that perforce she must pa- 
 tiently wait its coming, and the waking of the cotta- 
 gers, who lay drowned in deadly sleep. 
 
 At this moment, she was alarmed by a loud knock 
 at the door. One was there who seemed resolved to 
 
OR HOLINESS. 45 
 
 enter, he knocked louder, cursed, swore, commanded 
 that he should have immediate entrance, but no one 
 obeyed. The frighted cottagers dared not move ; for 
 the lion watched beside the mourning Una. 
 
 The man at the door became more and more an- 
 gry ; he bore upon his back a heavy load of stolen 
 goods, and goods which he had purchased unfairly. 
 He was a stout sturdy thief, who robbed churches, 
 and stole money from the poor's box, which holy 
 saints had deposited there for needful relief. He 
 could creep, by cunning sleights, into windows where 
 holy men reposed, and rob them of their vestments ; 
 in truth, no one could keep the habiliments of church- 
 men in safety; it seemed to be his chief business and 
 delight to steal them, and all things that he procured 
 honestly or dishonestly, he deposited in the hut of 
 this old blind crone, with whom our fairest Una had 
 been forced to tarry in consequence of extreme fa- 
 tigue. He pretended to love the daughter of the 
 blind woman, and brought her rings, and gold, and 
 with all unholy acts sought her base caresses. The 
 old woman was called Corceca, 17 the daughter, 
 Abessa. 17 Upon Abessa he lavished all the luxuries 
 of the land; feasted her with rarest fruits, and meats 
 of delicate flavour. Of course, his rage and aston- 
 ishment knew no bounds, when he was debared en- 
 trance to the house, but his rage and blows were of 
 no avail, the women dared not move, while the ter- 
 
46 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 rible lion guarded the door. At last the robber's 
 patience was all gone, and he broke open the door in 
 great fury, and was entering. But the lion roused 
 himself, with fierce disdain and anger, seized the 
 trembling wretch, in his cruel claws, and placed him 
 under his lordly foot. It was of no use to call assist- 
 ance, or to resist the power of the lion. In a mo- 
 ment his heart was torn from his bosom, his limbs 
 rent in pieces, and his blood flowing over the thirsty 
 ground, which soon drank up his life. 
 
 The proud avenger lifted the disfigured corse, and 
 laid him down again by the innocent but astonished 
 Una. When Abessa beheld the fearful sight, the rent 
 limbs and bleeding body of one who had lavished his 
 wealth upon her, and who loved her, in such sort as 
 the wicked can love, she shrunk back with horror, 
 but dared neither weep nor even appear to under- 
 stand the heavy misfortune; for the terrible beast 
 who had torn the thief in pieces was glaring with 
 suspicious eye on her. 18 
 
 The day was now discovering to the awakened 
 world, earth, sea and sky. Up rose the sun, and up 
 rose Una. The lion, observant of her motions, rose 
 also, and prepared to renew with her the purposed 
 journey, through ways unknown. For though un- 
 successful, Una was not discouraged, and still reso- 
 lutely determined to seek for her wandering knight, 
 so long as life and strength were granted her. Not 
 
OR HOLINESS. 47 
 
 with such zeal and firmness did the wandering Greek 
 return his long and tedious way to Ithaca, and refuse 
 for the love of fair Penelope, to be ranked with gods, 
 as did this gentle but royal maiden, resolve to con- 
 vince her wayward lover, that she was wronged, un- 
 justly left alone and desolate. 
 
 Soon as Una and her powerful page had departed 
 from the door, the blind woman, and her daughter 
 rose from their hiding place, and came forward to 
 look at the murdered Kirkrapine. Both wept in an- 
 guish. The daughter tore her hair, beat her breast, 
 and rent her own flesh ; and, rushing together from 
 the door half mad at their intolerable loss, they de- 
 termined to wreak upon the innocent lady, their 
 malice and revenge. They soon overtook her, and 
 brayed aloud, like some savage beasts ; they howled, 
 lamented, and, in the most shameless manner, called 
 her unchaste, dishonest ; prayed that plagues and 
 mischiefs might light upon her, and that she might 
 stray forever, entangled in endless error. Thus they 
 raved, till weaiy with their own violence, they turned 
 round to seek again the bloody spot where Kirkra- 
 pine lay ; Abessa still wailing piteously. 
 
 No sooner had they turned about, than Abessa ob- 
 served a knight approaching, clad in rich and mighty 
 armour : — but alas ! it was no true knight, it was the 
 subtle Archimago, who long since had set forward to 
 work woe and mischief on the* blameless Una. He 
 

 48 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 inquired of the women, if they knew aught of such 
 a lady. Abessa immediately began to renew her 
 passion ; to cry, and curse, and rail, and rend her 
 hair, saying, ' I know the base dishonest woman. 
 She is the cause of all my woe.' Upon which she 
 related the story of Kirkrapine's death, whose loss 
 caused her such bitter anguish. 
 
 The knight pretended to pity her sad mischance ; 
 but soon renewed his enquiries about the lady, and 
 when informed of the path she had taken, rode on- 
 ward at the full speed of his noble charger. He soon 
 discovered Una, travelling slowly with the enormous 
 lion by her side. Archimago feared the beast, and 
 did not dare approach Una, but rode up a hill near 
 the way side where she could see him. He was 
 dressed like St. George ; his silver shield, his crest, 
 his armour, were all exactly like those worn by that 
 valiant knight. Una was deceived. She was sure it 
 could be no other than the man she loved and hon- 
 ored most. Without hesitation, but with a modest 
 humble air, she immediately rode towards him, and 
 weeping, thus spoke, ' Ah my long-lacked lord ! 
 Where have you been ? No wild, no waste, has thy 
 Una left unsearched. My days have been spent in 
 toil, my nights in tears. Much I feared, that I had 
 displeased you by some act, but what, my most se- 
 vere scrutiny of memory could not reveal ; and why 
 you should abhor one, who loved you with such holy 
 
OR HOLINESS. 49 
 
 ardour, it pained me to conjecture. Oh ! how dark 
 and cheerless have been the long, long nights since 
 last we met. But you have returned ; light dawns 
 upon my soul ; all now is shining bliss ! ' 
 
 ' My dearest dame,' replied the artful Archimago, 
 1 it would have been a shame to knighthood, to have 
 left in anger one so loved and so loving ; far be it from 
 your thought and from mine. What ! leave you, bom 
 of heavenly birth ; you in whom my life was wrapped 
 up ; you, who chose me, freely, in faerie court, where 
 the noblest knights on earth were assembled ? No, 
 my knightly duties called me from your side, but only 
 for a time. Archimago, a great magician, summon- 
 ed me to destroy a felon, strong and malicious ; who 
 had disgraced many a valiant knight. It was an ad- 
 venture not to be refused, I obeyed him. Accept 
 this my excuse, the cause was good; and receive 
 again my faithful service, by which I vow to be your 
 defence by sea and land.' 
 
 The royal maiden, hearing such gentle words, felt 
 recompensed for all her sufferings. One hour of 
 love, can disperse the accumulated sorrows of many 
 weary years. She forgot all she had endured for 
 him. She spoke no more of the past. True love 
 has no power to look back. Her true knight, he for 
 whom she had travelled, toiled, wept, suffered, stood 
 before her, and she asked no more. As feels the 
 weather beaten mariner, who after having wandered 
 5 
 
50 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 over pathless oceans, exposed to rushing tides, to 
 storms that cause old ocean to mingle his waves with 
 the clouds of heaven ; to cold, to scorching heat ; at 
 last sees the haven of his hopes, the desired port, the 
 land of his fathers! So felt, and so rejoiced the gen- 
 tle Una. The vile enchanter affected equal joy, and 
 like some merchant, who views from afar a long ex- 
 pected ship, laden with India's wealth, and pours 
 vows to Neptune, blessing his power, and rejoicing 
 in his might ; so gazed he on the lady : so did he 
 bless the black enchantments that had helped him to 
 see and to secure her. 19 
 
 As they rode forward, Archimago inquired why 
 the lion followed like an attendant page ? Una an- 
 swered, by relating to him all the adventures of her 
 journey. Suddenly a formidable horseman appeared 
 in sight, strongly armed and on a noble courser, 
 bathed in foam, and champing his iron bit, as if in 
 very anger he could eat it. His rider spurred his 
 sides in merciless haste ; his look was stern, and 
 spoke of cruel revenge, and deadly hate ; and strange 
 to relate, there was inscribed upon his broad bright 
 shield, and in lines of blood, the name Sansloy ! 
 
 When the fierce warrior drew near to the royal 
 maiden and the false knight, he saw the Red Cross 
 upon Archimago's shield. Undescribable fury ap- 
 peared to seize him at that sight. With burning 
 rage, he prepared for battle, couched his lance, and 
 
OR HOLINESS. 51 
 
 advanced closely to the coward Archimago, who, 
 faint with fear, shrunk in terror from the onset. But 
 Una, believing that he was her own dear knight, 
 cheered him with hope ; and urged him to defend 
 her and assert his own unstained honor. He there- 
 fore prepared for the attack, and determined to meet 
 his foe bravely. But the proud pagan came forward 
 so fiercely, so full of wrath, and struck so powerfully 
 with his sharp headed spear, upon his shield, that 
 had not the horse of Archimago shrunk from the 
 blow, both he and his rider would have received 
 their death wound. Even as it was, the force of the 
 blow threw Archimago from his horse, tumbling him 
 rudely to the earth on which flowed streams of blood 
 from his gory wound. Sansloy then dismounted, 
 determined to take the life of his fallen enemy, and 
 said proudly, ' You have well deserved your fate. 
 You murdered Sansfoy, and must now die to quiet 
 his perturbed spirit. Your death will appease his 
 repining strife, and his ghost will pass quietly over 
 the Lethean lake. You took the life of Sansfoy ; — 
 Sansloy takes yours.' 
 
 So speaking, Sansloy seized his helmet, and began 
 to unlace it ; but Una exclaimed, i O, hold your 
 heavy hand ! who e'er you are, whatever place you 
 fill ; let it be enough that your foe is vanquished. 
 Withstand not the cry of mercy! for he, whom you 
 have conquered, is the truest knight alive. Do not 
 
52 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 deprive of life one, who has fairly fought in many a 
 bloody field, though now laid low by your powerful 
 arm.' 
 
 The fierce Sansloy did not heed her words ; and 
 rudely rent up the helmet, intending to slay him in- 
 stantly. But suddenly he stopped, astonished, and 
 withdrew his hasty hand from the throat of his 
 hoary headed victim ; his raising the helmet, so as 
 to leave bare the throat, had revealed to view the gray 
 hairs of Archimago. Sansloy knew the man, and 
 knew that he never fought in the field, in single com 
 bat, or in tournaments. He had never been told, 
 however, that he was a necromancer. 
 
 1 Why Archimago ! ' said the knight, ' What do I 
 see ? What hard mishap is this ? What brought 
 thee, luckless sire, to such a spot as this ? Are you 
 in fault, or am I in an error, to wound a friend, when 
 I intended to destroy a foe ? ' But Archimago an- 
 swered not ; he had fainted ; the cloud of death 
 seemed settling upon his glazed eye-balls ; and Sans- 
 loy turned from him, to see what had become of the 
 royal maiden. 
 
 Una was standing amazed to see how she had been 
 deceived ; and could not but think Archimago was 
 but deservedly punished for assuming the guise of 
 her long absent knight. From these thoughts she 
 was suddenly aroused by fear ; the bold pagan ap- 
 proached her, seized her snowy robe, and pulled her 
 
OR HOLINESS. 53 
 
 rudely from her steed. She was closely veiled, but 
 the barbarian was determined to behold her face, 
 and without ceremony tore it from her head. The 
 lion, who had never left Una unguarded, was enraged 
 to see his sovereign lady so rudely handled, and open- 
 ing his powerful jaws, seized the massy shield of the 
 pagan, and nearly wrenched it from his grasp. But 
 Sansloy was well skilled in arms ; brave, strong, and 
 jaX this moment enraged by the vilest passions ; and 
 while the lion held on upon the shield, he drew his 
 sword, and plunged it into the heart of the noble ani- 
 mal, who roared aloud with agony and expired. 
 
 Dreadful indeed was the fate of Una ; her only 
 guardian lay dead before her. She had become the 
 prey of a merciless heathen ; hope was well nigh 
 gone; and her vile capturer poured upon her the 
 lowest abuse ; and then forcibly seating her upon his 
 courser, sprang up behind her, and rode furiously 
 onward, she knew not whither. Her prayers, her 
 loud cries, and piteous lamentations availed nothing. 
 Sansloy had a stony heart ; and that heart was now 
 filled with bitter rancour. Her palfrey followed afar 
 off, as if wishing to partake her dangers, and pitying 
 her misfortunes, more tender in his beastlike kind- 
 ness, than was the bold bad pagan, who bore her far 
 away to scenes unknown, and to a fate of which she 
 
 knew not either the good or evil. 
 
 5 # 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 To sinful house of pride, Duessa 
 
 Guides the faithful knight, 
 Where, his brother's death to wreak, Sansloy 
 
 Doth challenge him to fight. 
 
 Whatever young knight professes arms, and 
 hopes through long and toilsome labours, to secure 
 honor and fame, let him beware of fraud, and of 
 fickleness. If from among the good and beautiful 
 he selects a bride, if once he plights his vows of love 
 and constancy, let him be firm ; let him not change 
 the loved one, nor listen to the voice of slander; 
 lightly believing her to blame, and rashly throwing 
 from his heart her, whose truth, malice alone dares 
 to doubt. There is no greater shame to knighthood, 
 than lightness and inconstancy in love; and they 
 always bring in their train disgrace and misery, as is 
 well proved, in the history of the Red Cross Knight. 
 
 When Archimago impeached the loyalty of Una, 
 did St. George stop to inquire or reason ? Did he 
 bid her plead her own cause, or even stop to ascer- 
 tain the certainty of what he witnessed ? No ; he 
 listened, and at one hasty glance, believed ; he never 
 
56 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 called on Una to explain ; but allowed the vile magi- 
 cian to accuse the lady of his love of infidelity to her 
 vows, and raging in jealous fury, left her whom he 
 had sworn to protect, alone among strangers, in a 
 desert place, exposed to lawless passion, to dungeons 
 and to death. And what was the consequence ? Of 
 her sad condition something has been told ; we will 
 now see how the cruel knight himself is punished 
 for his rash credulity, 
 
 We have already related his meeting with Duessa, 
 under the feigned name of Fidessa, which he really 
 believed to be her proper and true name. With her 
 he travelled for a long time, without meeting with 
 any person or place worth mentioning in our story. 
 At last they arrived within sight of a goodly build- 
 ing. It was bravely garnished and looked like the 
 palace of some mighty prince. A broad high way 
 led to the entrance, which was worn smooth by the 
 multitudes that travelled thither. Day and night the 
 road was filled with people of all degrees, flocking to 
 the splendid building, and of others returning from 
 it. Those who were going, looked gay ; many were 
 clothed gorgeously, all seemed full of hope and joy. 
 Those that were returning, looked sad, disgraced, 
 beggered. Many loathsome and diseased lay along 
 the hedges ; and all wore the garments of extreme 
 poverty. To this fatal palace, Duessa insisted that 
 the knight should go. She said she was weary witJi 
 
OR HOLINESS. 57 
 
 her toilsome ride, and that the day was almost spent. 
 As the knight had forgotten his pure and lovely Una, 
 and bestowed his love upon the wicked Duessa, he 
 was obliged to gratify her wayward wishes, and go 
 wherever it suited her will to direct him. 
 
 This stately palace, to which they now rode with 
 a rapid pace, was built in a most imposing style. 
 The bricks were square, but put together without 
 mortar ; the walls were very high, but neither strong 
 nor thick, and were overlaid with gold foil, which 
 was so brilliant that it made the sky above look pale. 
 Many lofty towers and splendid galleries, glittering 
 with the precious metal, rose high and spread wide. 
 Windows of unusual size, and delightful bowers, 
 ornamented these towers and galleries : and on the 
 very top of the palace roof was erected a dial. Its 
 whole appearance evinced great skill in the builders ; 
 but unfortunately they had neglected the foundation. 
 Intent only upon making it a striking and attractive 
 object to travellers, they placed no stones to support 
 the immense superstructure ; but built it on a sand 
 hill, so high, that the winds of heaven shook it as they 
 passed by, and the rains were daily washing the sand 
 from beneath it ; and when the back side of the palace 
 was critically examined, it was found old and ruin- 
 ous ; but most cunningly painted to deceive the care- 
 less passer by. 
 
 When the knight and Duessa reached the palace, 
 
58 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 they perceived that all the doors stood wide open, and 
 though there was a porter, named Malvenu, appoint- 
 ed, he denied entrance to no one of any rank or age. 
 They passed on to the hall of audience ; astonished 
 beyond expression, at the rich array, the costly arras, 
 and the immense number and variety of people. 
 These people were all waiting to gain access to the 
 princess, who held sovereign sway in this splendid 
 abode. The knight and Duessa were gazed at, in 
 mute surprise, as they walked forward, and mounted, 
 unbidden, to the royal presence. Far more surprized 
 was he, when he beheld the princess. The glorious 
 view confounded his frail and amazed senses. Such 
 endless wealth, so sumptuous a show, no earthly 
 palace ever exhibited. Not even Persia, considered 
 the parent and nurse of pompous pride, ever saw its 
 equal. Lords and ladies splendidly arrayed were in 
 attendance, and added vastly to the beauty and bril- 
 liancy of the scene. At the far end of this gorgeous 
 apartment, was spread a cloth of state. A rich throne, 
 glittering like the sun in its glory, rose like a thing of 
 heaven, before the dazzled spectator ; upon which, in 
 royal robes covered with gold and precious stones, 
 was seated a maiden queen. Her beauty was so 
 radiant that it eclipsed the glories of her throne, 
 which, one might imagine, envied the superior lustre 
 of this excelling occupant of the richest and proudest 
 throne on earth. Language fails when we would 
 
OR HOLINESS. 59 
 
 describe her ; and we feel when attempting it, like 
 Phaeton, the fairest child of Phoebus, who presumed 
 to drive through the highest heavens, the flaming 
 steeds of his father's chariot. Proud of such glory, 
 vain of such high trust, and dazzled with the flashing 
 beams from his resplendent parent, he left the beaten 
 path of the inimitable vault, till his burning wheels 
 wrapt the whole sky in flames, flames not made to 
 burn but to enlighten. Such ill success would be 
 surely ours, attempting to describe her that so proud- 
 ly shone, fixing her eye on heaven and disdaining 
 earth. At the feet of this resplendent being lay a 
 hideous and dreadful dragon. She held in her hand 
 a mirror, in which she often viewed her own won- 
 drous face, and appeared delighted with the fair 
 self-loved resemblance. 
 
 This princess was the daughter of Pluto and 
 Proserpine ; but such was her pride that she would 
 not own her parentage, but claimed the thundering 
 Jove for her father, who dwells in heaven, and wields 
 the sceptre of universal dominion ; nor was she 
 satisfied with even him, but said that, if among men 
 or gods there was a higher, that being was her father. 
 This princess bore among mortals the name of Luci- 
 fera. She had assumed a crown and kingdom, but 
 had no rightful claim to either, by birth or merit. 
 She was a tyrannical and bold usurper of the scep- 
 tre, 2 * which she held ; and governed, not by law, but 
 
60 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 by policy ; being led and advised to all her measures 
 by six old wizards, whose bad counsels regulated her 
 actions, and upheld her kingdom. 
 
 When the knight and the seemingly fair Duessa 
 appeared in view, a gentle usher, named Vanity, 
 made room for them to pass on to the throne. 
 Arrived at the lowest step, they knelt, and made low 
 obeisance, and in the most humble manner commu- 
 nicated to her majesty the cause of their coming. ' It 
 is, ' said they, ' to see your royal state, and to witness 
 the truth of far-spreading report, which speaks so 
 loudly of your matchless power and beauty. ' 22 
 
 With an eye of lofty disdain, as if half unwilling 
 to look so low, she thanked them ; but vouchsafed 
 no other notice worthy of a princess — nay, she 
 hardly condescended to bid them rise. Her lords 
 and ladies, on the other hand, were busy in exhibiting 
 themselves to the greatest advantage to the strangers. 
 Some curled their hair in courtly fashion ; some 
 smoothed their ruffs ; others examined every part of 
 their attire, to see if they excelled their neighbors in 
 brilliancy of ornament, and richness of the materials 
 with which their robes, and other garments, were 
 made ; each fearing, and each envying the other. 
 In one object, however, they all united, which was to 
 entertain the newly arrived guests ; for they were 
 always glad to increase their number. To Duessa 
 in particular, they paid devoted attention ; for they 
 
OR HOLINESS. 61 
 
 knew her well. But St. George was displeased. He 
 considered all the vain show as unworthy of a 
 knight's notice, and that the proud princess did not 
 extend to him the courtesies due to a stranger. 
 
 Suddenly uprising from her splendid throne, the 
 royal dame commanded that her coach should be 
 brought forth immediately ; towards which she moved 
 with princely pace, and an air of haughty superiority. 
 As fair Aurora, who, clothed in imperial purple, calls 
 dawning day from the illumined east ; so moved 
 the royal maiden in her gorgeous robes. Her bright- 
 ness flashed intolerable day around her, and the 
 people thronged in heaps, riding on each other, 
 their eyes dazzled with the splendor, to gaze upon 
 her as she moved. Thus she came forth, and ascen- 
 ded her chariot, glittering with gold and garlands, that 
 seemed fresh from the hands of Flora. The proud 
 dame strove to match, in the richness of her royal 
 array, and in her equipage, the imperial Juno, and 
 her golden car ; which, it is said, the gods stand gazing 
 at as she rides over the brass-paved way, that leads 
 through heaven, to the throne of Jove. But Juno's 
 car is like one resplendent jewel, drawn by gorgeous 
 peacocks, with the hundred eyes of Argus beaming 
 from their expanded tails. Not so the chariot of 
 Lucifera, proud as she was. She was drawn by 
 six unequal beasts; on each of which misshapen 
 animals rode one of her six sage counsellors. 
 6 
 
62 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 These animals were made obedient to the bestial 
 behests of their riders by whip and spur ; and he 
 who was placed as leader, in the splendid vehicle, 
 was named Idleness. He was extremely sluggish, 
 and rode upon an ill-looking, slothful ass ; he was 
 very thin, and clad in black vestments, like some holy 
 monk, about to begin the service of his church. He 
 had a prayer book in his hand, which, though seldom 
 read, was very much worn. But Idleness cared little 
 about devotion ; most of his days passed in drowsi- 
 ness and sleep. It was hardly in his power to raise 
 his heavy head sufficiently, to know whether it was 
 night or day. Poorly indeed must this princess have 
 been guided, since he, who pretended to be her guide, 
 was not awake enough, had not energy enough, to 
 see or care if he went right or wrong. He was such 
 a mere animal, that he had no one care. He shunned 
 all manly exercise ; he excused himself from every 
 labor, by pretending that he was fond of contempla- 
 tion. Yet in reality, he led a life of lawless riot, 
 which brought upon him grievous maladies. A 
 shaking fever reigned continually in all his limbs, 
 which were wasted to a skeleton, and his whole 
 appearance was revolting to those who looked upon 
 him. 
 
 Next to him there came a filthy swine ; and Glut- 
 tony a most loathsome and deformed creature, rode 
 upon its back. Eating to excess, had swollen him 
 
OR HOLINESS. 
 
 63 
 
 to an immense size ; liis eyes, his face, his limbs were 
 all so disgustingly shapeless and clumsy, that every 
 body turned loathingly away as he approached ; and 
 then his neck was frightfully disproportioned ; it was 
 long and thin, and forever crammed with food, far 
 more than he could possibly digest ; and like a brute 
 beast he threw from his gorged stomach, as he rode, 
 the undigested viands he had swallowed. He was 
 most fantastically dressed ; for he would wear nothing 
 but vine leaves. He was so surfeited by his load of 
 flesh, that the perspiration trickled in streams from 
 his ivy-crowned head ; and yet he kept on eating, 
 and bore in his hand a large can of liquor, of which 
 he drank so often, that he was almost too drunk to 
 keep his seat, and guide the filthy animal upon which 
 he rode. He was indeed unfit for any worldly thing, 
 so gross had he become. He scarcely knew his friends 
 from his foes, so clogged were his senses with meat 
 and drink ; and his multiplied diseases increased so 
 rapidly upon him, that he was like to lose all resem- 
 blance to man. He was becoming monstrous, in 
 shape, and size, and stupidity. Such was the second 
 counsellor of this vain and proud-minded queen, and 
 such were the animals that helped draw her splendid 
 chariot. 
 
 Nor were the rest less odious in shape or character. 
 Next to the ass and the swine, was harnessed a beard- 
 ed goat. Its hair was stiff and coarse ; its walled 
 
64 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 eyes expressed the jealousy that eat like a canker into 
 its heart, and accorded well with the loathsome be- 
 ing that rode upon its back. Gross, Unlawful Love, 
 rough and black as the goat itself, was the third of 
 these wise guides of the misguided princess. To 
 men he was most unseemly, though often caressed by 
 base, degraded women. He wore a garment of splen- 
 did green, which flowing gracefully about his person, 
 concealed the filth iness beneath. In his hand he 
 carried a burning heart, in which could be seen new- 
 fangled notions about right and wrong, vain follies, 
 and guile and necromancy; with love for impure 
 books, those sly but sure destroyers of innocence and 
 simplicity. This monster, in short, was a portrait of 
 inconstant man ; one who loves all he sees among 
 fair and gentle women, whom to lead from the 
 path of virtue, is his daily labor and malignant de- 
 light. To destroy the bliss of wedded love ; to tempt 
 husband and wife to violate the nuptial vow ; to bring 
 reproach, and pain, and loathsome disease into the 
 abodes of innocence and peace, is the occupation of 
 his abhored life ; and, as is meet for such a mon- 
 ster, he himself was utterly corrupted, mind and 
 body, with horrid thoughts, and mortal disease: — 
 bones, marrow, brain, were all consuming with the 
 torture of slow and constant fire. 
 
 The fourth animal in this strangely conducted 
 vehicle, was a camel. It was a patient creature, and 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 65 
 
 by no means so revolting to the view as the three we 
 have described ; and yet the being that rode upon it 
 is hardly less to be abhored, than those who ride 
 upon the ass, the swine, and the goat. It was Avarice. 
 He had loaded the camel very heavily with gold, 
 having put into baskets on either side iron coffers, 
 rilled with the precious metal. In addition to this, 
 he carried a great quantity in his lap, and counted 
 it over and over as he was riding. Gold was all 
 the god he worshipped, and he had sold himself 
 to hell for money ; for there was no crime he would 
 not commit to increase his wealth. He was an 
 usurer, taking unlawful interest, and availing himself 
 of the biting distress of his fellow beings, to exact 
 unreasonable hire for the money he lent them. — 
 Right and wrong were alike indifferent to him : and 
 he would have ridden, unflinchingly, to the very 
 gate of hell, to gain advantage of indigent and un- 
 suspecting men. He had accumulated vast treasures 
 by meanness, cheating, theft, and all kind of base- 
 ness ; yet he was miserable. He spent his days in 
 numbering his heaps of gold, and could not sleep 
 at night lest he should be robbed. He went ragged 
 and nearly barefoot ; took so little food that he was 
 wasted to a skeleton ; and he had no child, no 
 kinsman to inherit his millions ; no one to love him ; 
 no one to respect him. Not one grateful heart 
 breathed a prayer for his happiness ; and as no 
 6* 
 
66 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 accumulation ever satisfied his cravings for gold, he 
 was wretched, and poor, amidst wealth sufficient to 
 have diffused peace and plenty, joy and gratitude, 
 throughout the country of which he had rendered 
 himself the scourge and the destroyer. In addition 
 to his self-imposed starvation from cold and hunger, 
 a dreadful gout tormented his hands and feet ; and 
 it was agony to him to touch anything, or to walk, 
 or to stand still. Thus horrible is every form of 
 vice, and one could hardly choose to which he 
 would be subject. 
 
 The next in this motley group of animals, was a 
 ravenous wolf, upon which Envy rode, detestable 
 alike to men and women. The monster, Envy, held 
 between his teeth a venomous toad, which he chewed 
 continually, so that the poison ran trickling from his 
 mouth upon his beard. Inwardly he fed upon his 
 own vitals, so much was he tormented at the view of 
 a neighbor's wealth, or fame or happiness. He 
 nearly expired when any rare felicity was bestowed 
 upon others, and he often wept, because he had no 
 object near, over whose misery he could triumph ; 
 and of course, the misfortunes of others made him 
 rejoice exceedingly. He was dressed in a robe of 
 thin silk, painted full of eyes ; and he carried in his 
 bosom a hateful snake, whose tail was coiled up into 
 many folds, ready prepared to inflict a mortal sting. 
 Envy gnashed his teeth while riding, whenever he 
 
OR HOLINESS. 67 
 
 saw others in possession of gold ; and he pined in- 
 wardly at the felicity of the proud princess, whom he 
 was assisting to draw in her shining equipage, as well 
 as at the several sources of joy, which the other 
 counsellors fancied they possessed. But nothing 
 provoked Envy so much as the good deeds of others. 
 He abhored those who clothed the naked or fed the 
 hungry, and accused them of want of faith, of doing 
 good to be seen of men. If a book were well 
 written, or a poem elicited praise from an admiring 
 community, he would backbite and spit poison at the 
 writer and the poet. In short to contemplate virtue, 
 to see active goodness, to witness talent receiving its 
 meed of praise, was torment to this fiend in human 
 shape. 
 
 The next in this strange retinue was Wrath. He 
 rode upon a lion, which was unwilling to be thus led, 
 and extremely hard to manage. Wrath, however, 
 subdued him, by brandishing a burning brand about 
 his head. The eyes of Wrath sent forth sparks of 
 fire, of vivid redness, and he gazed sternly on all 
 whom he met ; but his face was pale and haggard, 
 like one dead. He trembled with rage, clutched his 
 dagger with a nervous grasp, and swelled with choler, 
 like some savage monster of the desert. His garments 
 were stained with blood, and rent almost to rags, by 
 the violence of his own actions, over which he had 
 no government. He shed blood in his vengeance, as 
 
68 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 he would pour water on the thirsty earth ; but yet he 
 often repented of his cruelty, though his repentance 
 was of no worth in the sight of God or man, for it 
 produced no reformation ; and he drove headlong 
 anew to deeds of revenge and death. The mischiefs 
 following in his train were numerous ; bloodshed, 
 strife, murder, pillage, rancour, despite, fretting 
 grief — the slow, sure enemy of life, spleen, frenzy, 
 palsy, and that deadly imp that lit the fires about the 
 good St. Francis ; all, and more hover about this 
 terrific being : O, what a guide was he, for a young 
 and lovely woman, and she, a royal princess ! 
 
 But, in addition to all these unfitting guardians 
 that we have described, Satan had perched himself 
 upon the beam of the chariot, and carried a whip in 
 his hand, with which he lashed forward the lazy 
 team, especially when Idleness got stuck in the mire. 
 A huge assembly of people followed the equipage, 
 shouting for joy ; but soon, a foggy mist came over 
 the whole land, and they perceived that sculls and 
 bones of men lay all along beneath their feet. 
 However, they pushed forward, determined to take 
 solace for all evils, in the open air, and fresh fields, 
 covered at this time with flowers of every hue. Next 
 to the seat of proud Lucifera, rode Duessa, false as 
 she was seemingly beautiful. The Knight of the Red 
 Cross kept at a good distance from the strange and 
 motley crew ; he felt disgusted with their vain joy, 
 
ea holiness. 69 
 
 and thought it was unfit for a warrior like himself 
 to have fellowship with men so riotous, and even 
 beastly. 23 
 
 After roaming awhile over the fields, and breath- 
 ing the fresh and fragrant air, the whole train returned 
 to the princely palace. There they found that a 
 stranger knight had arrived. His shield made known 
 his name and rank, for Sansloy was written upon it 
 in letters of blood. His countenance exhibited the 
 deadly passions that were raging in his bosom, fury 
 inflamed his features, and fire darted from his eye. 
 Vengeance, bloody vengeance had taken possession of 
 his soul. And when he beheld the shield of Sansfoy, 
 borne by our knight's little page, he knew that his 
 brother's destroyer was before him. Neglectful of 
 the presence of the royal maiden, the furious Sansloy 
 sprung upon the dwarf, and wrenched the shield 
 from his grasp ; but St. George could not submit to 
 such an insult. The shield was the meed won in 
 dangerous fight; and as such, was his glory as the 
 victor. Not an instant, therefore, did he stop to 
 reason, but sprang like a tiger upon Sansloy ; their 
 swords shook ; their shields clashed ; and the terrified 
 attendants of the queen knew not where to go, or 
 what to do. But presently, and in high displeasure, 
 the queen commanded the knight to desist, and that 
 if either of them claimed a right to the shield, they 
 
70 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 should decide the contest on the morrow in regular 
 combat in the lists. 
 
 ' Ah dearest dame,' said the bold pagan, < pardon 
 my error. Rage and grief made me forget in whose 
 presence I stood. This recreant knight — no, not 
 knight, but traitor, by shameful guile overthrew the 
 bravest knight that ever graced a battle field, even the 
 stout Sansfoy, (O, how can I restrain my wrath !) 
 and to add insult to treason, he wears the shield 
 reversed, that he won so basely. Nor is this all. 
 Look at that lady, the fair Fidessa. She was my 
 brother's best beloved, and this vile traitor is reaping 
 the harvest sown by the noble Sansfoy ! O queen, 
 grant us but equal favor, and this hand shall revenge 
 my brother's wrong. ' 
 
 The Red Cross Knight said but a few words. He 
 intended that the sword, not the tongue, should decide 
 his right. He quietly threw down his gage, by which 
 he was pledged to appear in the lists on the following 
 day, and then turned silently from his enraged foe. 
 
 The night was spent in feasting and revelry ; bower 
 and hall were filled with ladies, knights, and esquires. 
 Gluttony was steward, and provided them lavishly 
 with every thing that could captivate the senses and 
 feed the appetite ; and when joy and jollity were over, 
 and aching heads and weary limbs sought quiet and 
 rest, Sloth acted as chamberlain, and waited on all to 
 
OR HOLINESS. 71 
 
 the places of repose. As midnight spread over the 
 pure azure of heaven her coal-black mantle, our two 
 angry knights were conducted to luxurious couches, 
 and left to their repose ; but neither could sleep. 
 Each mused on the means best adapted to work 
 destruction to his adversary ; and Duessa, as soon as 
 she was sure that Morpheus, with his leaden mace, 
 had arrested all the numerous court of Lucifera, rose 
 from her couch and crept silently to the lodgings of 
 the pagan. She found him broad awake, revolving 
 in his mind the events that might occur to-morrow ; 
 and forecasting how he might best secure the victory. 
 Addressing him with words of seeming tenderness : 
 * Ah dear Sansloy, ' she began, ' next dearest to my 
 murdered Sansfoy ; you are at once the cause of my 
 grief and my delight. I rejoice to see the image of 
 my lost lord in your eye ; and I grieve because the 
 sight of you brings before me the dreadful scene of 
 his destruction. ' 
 
 The knight answered her gently, and with fair 
 words; and begged her to tell him freely all the 
 secrets of her heart. Sighing she began : ' It is often 
 and wisely said that a little sweet is tempered with 
 much smart. Since I loved Sansfoy, I have never 
 enjoyed one hour. Woe clings eternally to my heart. 
 With all my powders I loved him, and at the moment 
 when I hoped that all perils were overcome, and that 
 I was about to receive the full reward of my unceasing 
 
72 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 woe, this traitor comes, by base arts conquers my 
 noble lover, wears the shield too worthy to be touched 
 by such a base wretch, and then carries me, poor, 
 simple maid, because I loathed his proffered love, 
 and imprisons me in a dark, deep cave. Your coming, 
 like the sun in its glory, disperses the lowering cloud 
 that had settled on my life. I will shroud me under 
 your beams ; they will light me to shun the storm 
 which this hateful sprite is calling down upon my 
 helpless head. Your brother's inheritance belongs to 
 you of right ; his lady-love belongs to you. O do not 
 suffer his restless ghost to wander unrevenged; it 
 calls to you from the Stygian shores ! and preserve 
 me, dear Sansloy, from that Red Cross Knight.' 
 
 4 Fair dame,' replied the pagan, i grieve not for 
 sorrows past. They are gone. Neither fear about 
 present perils ; for needless fear destroys our power 
 of guarding against danger ; and for things inevitable, 
 and that no human foresight can control, it is useless 
 to mourn. The ghost of Sansfoy, you say, grieves 
 for vengeance. He lives that will sacrifice the guilty 
 blood of a traitor to appease its groans.' 
 
 ' O,' she replied, i I fear the fickle freaks of fortune, 
 and the odds of arms, when you shall meet to-morrow.' 
 Why dame,' he answered, ' what odds can there 
 be ? are we not going to honorable combat ? are we 
 not both determined to fight till one shall yield or 
 die?' 
 
OR HOLINESS. 73 
 
 1 Ah,' said the false traitress, ' he bears a charmed 
 shield, and enchanted arms, that no mortal man can 
 pierce. No arm, however brave, can wound a knight 
 armed in this manner.' 
 
 'Tell me not of charms, and enchantments,' 
 answered he fiercely, ' I care not for them. Rehearse 
 no more of them to me. But, fair Fidessa, since you 
 are a captive, and in the power of an enemy, pru- 
 dently return whence you came, and rest awhile. 
 To-morrow, I will subdue the elf that lords it over 
 your fortunes; and all of the murdered Sansfoy's 
 shall be yours.' 
 
 ' That is a double death,' she replied ; 6 proud foes 
 you are, and all my sorrows will be renewed, when 
 I behold your combat ; but, wherever I am, my secret 
 aid will belong to you.' So saying, she returned 
 again to her couch as the pagan had commanded. 
 7 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The faithful knight in equal field 
 Subdues his faithless foe ; 
 
 Whom false Duessa saves, and for 
 His cure, to hell does go. 
 
 The heart which is filled with noble and virtuous 
 thoughts, and glorious intentions can never rest till 
 circumstances give birth to manly effort, benevolent 
 labour, moral and intellectual excellence and all the 
 abundant offspring of that virtue which is born of 
 God. The knight of the Red Cross had gone forth 
 to destroy Error and all her destructive brood, and to 
 protect holiness. A pagan was now to enter the lists 
 against him. He knew that the happiness of his fel- 
 low men, the honor of the glorious queen who had 
 sent him forth, and his own fame were involved in 
 the issue of the combat. How could he sleep? 
 Restless, full of anxious thought in what way he 
 might best achieve the honors of the tournament, he 
 lay wakeful and impatient for the dawn of day. 
 Full of courage, and strong in hope, he at last saw 
 the golden oriental gate of highest heaven slowly 
 unfold ; and Phoebus, fresh as a bridegroom came 
 
76 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 dancing forth, shaking the dew from his hair, and 
 hurling through the dark atmosphere his glistening 
 beams. 
 
 The knight sprung joyous from his couch, and pre- 
 pared himself for battle. He put on his sun bright 
 armour, and walked forth into the common hall. It 
 was crowded already with the lords and ladies of the 
 court, all anxious to know what might befall the 
 stranger knights. Minstrels were tuning their harps ; 
 for nothing so powerfully arouses that cruel courage 
 which urges man against his fellow man, as music. 
 Its power over the heart is irresistible, and never 
 should be used but in the cause of virtue. These 
 minstrels cunningly tuned their voices to old heroic 
 ballads, that chronicled the loves, and wars for ladies, 
 of many chivalrous knights. The melody swept 
 enchantingly over the assembled crowd, and the 
 knight's heart beat high with hopes of conquest and 
 fame. 
 
 At that moment the Saracen entered. He was 
 armed in mail, woven so warily, that it seemed a cer- 
 tain security from death. His eye was stern, his step 
 lofty, proud defiance sat upon his bold brow, as if he 
 feared neither God nor man. The attendants imme- 
 diately brought wines, made in Greece and Araby, 
 richly spiced, and intended to kindle into flame the 
 courage of the combatants. It was also used in the 
 religious ceremony which preceded the battle. The 
 
OR HOLINESS. 77 
 
 warriors drank it, taking a solemn oath, to observe 
 the sacred laws of arms. 
 
 The queen now approached in royal robes, and 
 was placed under a splendid canopy where she could 
 view the contest. Opposite to this renowned lady, 
 was Duessa, and the shield of Sansfoy. Both were 
 to be the prize of the conqueror. 
 
 The trumpet now sounds shrill, giving command 
 to address themselves to battle. The knights tie 
 their shining shields upon their wrists ; their burning 
 blades blaze, as each whirls the instrument of wrath 
 about his crested head; they advance, they strike, 
 they impress deep dinted furrows on their battered 
 mails, whose iron walls are weak to resist such pow- 
 erful blows ; the stout Saracen fights for blood and 
 vengeance, and heaps blows on blows, as with an iron 
 hammer, upon the astonished champion of the faerie 
 queene. St. George full of youth, fighting for fame 
 and honor, and in the cause of virtue, doubles his 
 blows like threatening thunder. Both strike, are 
 struck. Both beat and both are beaten. Their hel- 
 mets are deeply cut ; fire flies brightly and thick from 
 their hard struck shields ! One strives for Wrong, 
 the other battles for the Right. As when a griffin pos- 
 sessed of his lawful prey, is met in mid-heaven by a 
 fierce dragon, that attempts to rob him of his hard 
 earned meal ; they meet with equal force, smite to- 
 gether, tear, rend, scream with hideous horror, till 
 7 # 
 
78 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 the heavens recede in fear, and the wise soothsayer 
 tells the amazed multitude of vulgar gazers, that wars 
 and mortal fight are about to desolate the earth. So 
 met the knights ; so each strove to bring deadly shame 
 upon the other ; so drove they the biting steel through 
 the iron wall that enclosed them, till streams of blood 
 flowed copiously, and their late brilliant armour was 
 died in pure vermillion. 
 
 The spectators sat in mute horror, not daring to 
 wish victory to either ; and expecting that every new 
 stroke of their vengeful weapons, would force a proud 
 soul through the gaping wound. At last, the pagan 
 knight chanced to look upon the shield of his dead 
 brother, that was purposely suspended from a tree, 
 within sight of the battle ground. His rage was 
 redoubled at this sight, and he cried out, ' Ah, wretch- 
 ed son of a most wretched father ! Are you left to 
 linger wailing about the Stygian lake, whilst thy 
 shield is hung up to be contended for ; and does thy 
 sluggish brother lack force to send to darkest Erebus, 
 thy foe? Go,' he continued, speaking to the Red 
 Cross Knight, 'go caitif elf! overtake his ghost 
 quickly, and redeem him from his long wandering 
 woe. Go, guilty ghost ! cany to the perturbed spirit 
 this message ; tell him I have recovered his shield 
 from his dying foe.' Saying this, he struck such a 
 blow upon the crest of the young knight, that he 
 reeled twice, twice nearly fell from his gallant steed. 
 
OR HOLINESS. 79 
 
 and all present believed the end of the long doubtful 
 battle had approached. 
 
 Then Duessa called aloud to the pagan, i Thine is 
 the shield, and I, and all ! ' His lady's voice roused 
 the swooning St. George. His faith, which had near- 
 ly failed, was quickened ; the creeping cold in his 
 blood passed away, and he arose in wrath. Shame 
 mantled on his cheek, that ladies fair should witness 
 his defeat ; and, determining to be avenged at once 
 upon his proud antagonist, he raised high his arm of 
 almost matchless power, striking with such force 
 upon the pagan's crest, that he brought him to the 
 ground ; and, if he had not saved himself by stoop- 
 ing very low, he would have cloven him in twain. 
 He then spoke to him as follows : ' Go proud mis- 
 creant ; go to thy dear brother ! He has wandered 
 alone too long. Go, tell him that his foe wears his 
 shield, and will soon wear thine.' Here he raised 
 high his arm, and would have slain his enemy on the 
 spot, had not some demon from the regions of dark- 
 ness enveloped him in a dense cloud. The pagan 
 was not to be seen ; he had vanished, or was hid, by 
 impenetrable night. 
 
 And now Duessa arose, and hastened to the aston- 
 ished champion : 6 O knight of noble prowess,' she 
 hypocritically exclaimed, * did ever lady choose a 
 lover so excelling ? Subdue, I intreat thee, the ter- 
 ror of your might, and quench the furious flame that 
 

 80 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 is consuming you. Lay by your bloody vengeance. 
 The infernal powers have wrapt in clouds your 
 expiring foe, and borne him to the bowers of Pluto. 
 The conquest is yours ; I am yours ; the shield and 
 the glory are yours.' 
 
 This did not however, satisfy the wonder-stricken 
 knight. He searched round with a greedy eye for 
 his faithless enemy, who lay safely concealed in an 
 adjoining thicket ; and stood amazed at the incom- 
 prehensible manner in which he was removed. But 
 the trumpet of triumph wakes all the distant echoes. 
 Heralds run and prostrate themselves in homage to 
 the conqueror ; greeting him aloud with shouts of 
 victory, and bringing to him the dearly won shield of 
 Sansfoy. Upon receiving it, he walked to the foot 
 of the throne, and knelt before the sovereign queen. 
 He plighted to her vows of allegiance, and offered 
 her his knightly services. 24 She gracefully thanked 
 him, and accepted his vows and his proffered ser- 
 vice. The queen praised his gay chivalry, placed 
 him by her side, and moved towards the royal resi- 
 dence. The people followed them in great glee, 
 shouting and clapping all their hands, so that the 
 sounds filled the air and rose to the very heavens. 
 The knight was laid in a sumptuous bed, and the 
 most skillful surgeons were procured to examine his 
 still bleeding wounds. They bathed him with wine 
 and oil, and commanded that the minstrels should 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 81 
 
 exert their magic power, and pour melody around 
 his bed, to beguile his pain, and calm his agony. 
 Duessa, the artful wicked Duessa, all the time pre- 
 tended to weep violently in pity for his sufferings. 
 The poor deluded knight, was like a weary traveller, 
 reposing on the bank of the broad seven mouthed 
 Nile, deceived by the tears of a cruel, crafty croco- 
 dile, that had crept unawares towards him, weeping 
 so naturally, and expressing such deep and tender 
 sorrow, that he allowed the monster to swallow him, 
 before he was aware of danger. So wept Duessa, 
 till eventide, and the shining lamps of night began 
 to be lighted in the high hall of Jove. 
 
 Then she left the knight of the Red Cross, to 
 examine into the situation of the heathen knight, 
 who had lain so long in a deep swoon, that vital 
 energy was almost extinct. All the day he had been 
 covered with the enchanted cloud ; but his wounds 
 were not dressed, nor had any refreshments been 
 procured for him. Duessa saw that his condition 
 was fearfully dangerous, and without stopping to 
 lament about what she could not remedy, she flew 
 rapidly to the eastern coast of heaven. There resides 
 Night, with a visage so sad, that the cheerful Phoebus 
 never dared look upon her. She usually wears a 
 mantle of pitchy black, and was just coming forth 
 from her dark retreat, as Duessa arrived. Her iron 
 chariot was harnessed at the door. The steeds were 
 

 82 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 coal black, and were born of a hellish breed. When 
 Night observed Duessa, bright as the sun, and adorn- 
 ed with gold and jewels, she was greatly amazed, 
 and would have retreated back to her cave ; for such 
 brightness never before shone upon her dominions, 
 but Duessa intreated her to stop, in these words. ' O 
 thou dreaded dame, I intreat thee to stop, till I have 
 told my message ; thou ancient grandmother, older 
 than Jove or any of the celestials in earth or heaven ; 
 thou, who wast born in the hall of Demigorgon, and 
 beheld the secrets of the uncreated world, why dost 
 thou suffer thy nephews to be murdered ? Why 
 allow an elfin sword to send two of thy noble stock 
 to the dark shore of Styx ? Behold, O Night, the 
 great Sansjoy, is in a deadly sleep. The bold Sans- 
 foy, whom this recreant knight most basely slew, 
 leaving his body to the fowls of heaven, was my 
 loved lord. O ! what boots it to be born of gods, if 
 such as he must die unwailed, and have his knightly 
 limbs torn by the savage beasts? Thy children, 
 great Night will be scorned. Up, dreary dame, up, 
 queen of darkness, go, and gather up the relics of thy 
 race, or else avenge them. Let the world see that 
 dreaded Night can deface the fair children of light, 
 and claim a place even with brightest Day.' 
 
 The great mother of gods was moved by Duessa's 
 artful speech ; yet never before was her heart touch- 
 ed by pity ; and she always hated, and herself never 
 
OR HOLINESS. 83 
 
 loved friend or foe. Something like compassion, 
 however, now drew from her these words : 6 Dear 
 daughter, I grieve at the- fall of famous children, and 
 at the success of their foes ; but who can turn the 
 stream of destiny ? Neither can we break the strong 
 chain of necessity, which is fastened to the eternal 
 throne of Jove. I know that the proud sovereign of 
 the sky favors the sons of Day, and that he thinks to 
 ruin me by making them great. It is base to raise 
 one being upon the destruction of another. But all 
 shall not escape. The man that made Sansfoy fall, 
 shall pay the price with his own blood. But what 
 art thou, that tellest of nephews killed ? ' 
 
 ' /, that do not seem /, am Duessa,' she answered, 
 1 and though I come to thee arrayed in garments of 
 gorgeous gold, I am the daughter of Deceit and 
 Shame.' 
 
 Night bowed down her aged back to kiss her wick- 
 ed daughter, and said, c I thought I could see in your 
 face, a strong resemblance to Deceit ; yet your seem- 
 ing grace was so well assumed, that I could scarcely 
 discern its falseness in this dark place. I am the 
 root of the Duessa race ; the mother of Falsehood — 
 welcome my child. I have longed to see you, and 
 will go with you.' So speaking she ascended her 
 chariot, and placed the foul well-favoured witch by 
 her side. She glided swiftly through the mirky air ; 
 her horses, two of which were black and two brown, 
 
84 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 swam softly and easily along, unless Night chanced 
 to twitch her bridle, then they would rear and foam, 
 and plunge, champ their hard bits, and trampling the 
 fine element, race fiercely along the cope of heaven. 
 A few moments brought them to the pagan knight, 
 who lay apparently dead. The cloud still covered 
 him. The blood had congealed about his wounds. 
 These, the two strange beings bind up, as wisely as 
 the place permitted ; and then they raise him gently 
 to the chariot, closely concealed by rnirky Night. 
 While Night and the witch were thus employed, the 
 dogs brayed incessantly ; for the iron chariot had 
 made so strange a sound, and Night looked so grisly 
 and dark, that the creatures were utterly dismayed. 
 The owl too, that messenger of Death, shrieked most 
 drearily as the hags were at their wicked work ; and 
 the hungry wolves howled at Night's abhored face. 
 The chariot meanwhile, turned back in silence, bear- 
 ing the heavy corse, which they carried with stealthy 
 steps, to the yawning gulph of Avernus. Through 
 that gulph, forever smoking with fumes of brim- 
 stone, is an entrance to hell ; and those who pass it 
 can never return, but by power given from heaven. 
 Sometimes, dreadful furies break their chains, and 
 condemned spirits come thence, to make bad men 
 repent their evil deeds. Down the terrible descent 
 the direful dames drove the iron chariot, filled with 
 coagulated blood ; on every side of them stood tremb- 
 
OR HOLINESS, 85 
 
 ling ghosts, chattering their iron coloured teeth. 
 Their stony eyes glared horribly upon them, and all 
 the hellish brood of imps and devils flocked around 
 the chariot to gaze upon a sight so new and strange, 
 a woman daring to ride down the dark steep of 
 Avernus in company with Night ! 
 
 They passed safely the bitter waters of Acheron, 
 where they beheld many souls wailing most piteous- 
 ly, but horrid indeed was the spectacle when they 
 arrived at the fiery flood of Phlegethon, where ghosts 
 lie in torment, cursing high Jove. Near to this 
 dreadful river is erected the house of endless pain, 
 and before the door lay the three headed monster 
 Cerberus ; a thousand venomous adders curled about 
 him, and his flaming tongue extended frightfully from 
 his jaws. When he saw the chariot approach, he 
 snarled and reared up his strong bristles; but Night 
 soon appeased him, for she has equal power in hell 
 and heaven, so he hung down his tail and suffered 
 them to pass quietly. As they rode along towards 
 the halls of Pluto, they saw Ixion who was con- 
 demned to turn forever on a wheel, for having dared 
 to tempt the queen of heaven ; there too they saw 
 Sisyphus condemned eternally to roll a stone up hill, 
 which as eternally rolled back upon the weary wretch ; 
 there they saw Tantalus, up to the chin in water, yet 
 agonized with thirst; and Tityus with a vulture feed- 
 ing on his heart ; and Typhoeus extended on a rack ; 
 8 
 
86 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 and Theseus, condemned to everlasting idleness; 
 and the fifty sisters who were sentenced to be for- 
 ever filling leaky vessels with water. All these were 
 so astonished, to see a living being from the earth, 
 in that place, that they suspended their labour, and 
 forgot their pains, to gaze upon Duessa. 
 
 The chariot passed slowly onward, till it came to a 
 cave wrought with wonderful art ; it was deep, dark, 
 uneasy, doleful, and comfortless. Here Esculapius 
 was imprisoned, chained to irremediable woe, for 
 curing the dismembered body of Hippolytus. Hip- 
 polytus was a huntsman, exceedingly fond of chasing 
 the foaming boar in his chariot. He was surpassing- 
 ly beautiful, but entirely averse to marriage, or the 
 society of fair ladies. The field was his delight. 
 Light hearted and gay, this jolly sportsman wished 
 to enjoy life his own way, willing that others should 
 swim down the stream of time in barks of their own 
 chusing. But he had a step-mother, whose base and 
 degrading love he refused with abhorence ; and she 
 accused him in revenge, to his fierce father, of trea- 
 son. This father was descended from a sea-god, and 
 without waiting to hear from his injured son the rea- 
 sons for his mother's enmity and accusation, he pray- 
 ed to the god, to send upon his son some signal ven- 
 geance ; and as Hippolytus was one day enjoying his 
 favorite amusement, two monsters, from the surging 
 gulfs of ocean, sprung suddenly upon him. They 
 
OR HOLINESS. 87 
 
 were so horrible that his horses were frightened, and 
 upsetting the chariot, they dashed forward, dragging 
 the beautiful Hippolytus, who was entangled in the 
 harness, over craggy cliffs, till he was quite dismem- 
 bered, and had left a beauteous limb on every moun- 
 tain side. When the chariot stopped, not a trace of 
 the bright and virtuous youth was left. This terrible 
 event struck his cruel step-mother with agonizing 
 remorse ; she told her husband of the perfect inno- 
 cence of his son, and ended her wicked life by cut- 
 ting her own throat. The father of Hippolytus, like 
 all who rashly listen to the voice of calumny, was so 
 incensed against himself, that he tore the hair from 
 his head, and would have torn, if he could have done 
 so, the offending tongue from his mouth. But calm- 
 ing, at last, his now useless agony, he went to seek 
 the scattered members of his beloved Hippolytus. 
 Diana assisted him, for the goddess was a friend to 
 the young sportsman, and they soon collected them 
 all, and bore them to the famous Esculapius ; who, 
 by a wonderful exertion of his powers healed them, 
 and joined every part together, and restored Hippo- 
 lytus alive to his father. But when Jove beheld this 
 astonishing work of science, aided by man's wit; 
 when he saw the dead raised and restored to life, he 
 feared that Esculapius would make men immortal. 
 He therefore thrust him down alive into Erebus, 
 wounding him sorely with his flashing thunderbolt. 
 
OO LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 Here he had remained ever since, using all his skill 
 to keep himself alive, and to slake the burning heat of 
 the heavenly fire. 
 
 When ancient Night had arrived at the prison of 
 Esculapius, she alighted from her chariot ; took the 
 wounded knight in her arms, and carried him to the 
 mighty physician. She gently removed the armour 
 from his bruised and wounded limbs, beseeching 
 Esculapius, if either herbs, or oils, or salves, or 
 charms could raise from death's door a wounded 
 knight, he would prolong the life of her nephew. 
 
 'Dame,' replied Esculapius, 'you tempt me in 
 vain. Am I not already sentenced to eternal pain for 
 restoring one man to life ? And do you think I will 
 risk having my torments increased by lengthening 
 the life of another ? Night cannot defend me from 
 the wrath of thundering Jove, who rules both night 
 and day.' 
 
 ' Not so,' said Night, ' heaven's king has already 
 excluded you from heaven ; what have you to fear ? 
 You can hope for nothing, and are now in the power 
 of everlasting Night. Go to, then, most renowned 
 son of great Apollo. Use all thy famous power in 
 medicine, that has already won for thee, great pain, 
 but greater praise, neither of which can ever cease.' 
 Esculapius yielded to the persuasions of the ancient 
 dame, and undertook to cure the knight. She ac- 
 cordingly left him in his care, and returned on her 
 
OR HOLINESS. 89 
 
 way homeward, while Phoebus was resting his weary- 
 steeds in the western waves. 
 
 The false Duessa also returned to the palace of 
 Pride. But the fairy knight had departed. His 
 wounds were not healed ; but he had good cause to 
 hasten his departure, for his dwarf, who was a wary 
 and careful creature, and devoted to the interest of 
 his master, had discovered, below the splendid palace 
 of Pride, a huge and loathsome dungeon. The scene 
 in that dungeon was appalling. It was crowded with 
 prisoners of all ranks, all ages, and all countries. 
 The causes of their captivity were many. But the 
 greatest number had brought themselves to this 
 dreadful condition, by mortgaging their lives to cov- 
 etousness, and wasteful pride, and riot, and then 
 having to submit to the tyrannic rule of the royal 
 dame who had led them astray from virtue and holi- 
 ness. She no sooner possessed herself of all their 
 wealth, than inflamed by Wrath and the false sur- 
 mises of Envy, she condemned them to the merci- 
 less dungeon, where they lived in woe, and died in 
 misery. The dwarf, saw imprisoned in this abode 
 of horror, the far famed proud king of Babylon, who 
 compelled all nations to adore him, and call on him 
 as the only God, till he was sentenced by almighty 
 justice to become as a beast of the forest ; Croesus 
 also was there, whose heart was exalted by great 
 riches. Antiochus also, had been sentenced to this 
 
90 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 place of woe, because he raised his hand against the 
 God of heaven, and profaned his holy altars. And 
 there was Nimrod, the mighty hunter, who grew 
 proud, and introduced fire and sword for the destruc- 
 tion of his fellow beings ; and Ninus, who once sur- 
 passed in princely pomp, every earthly monarch. 
 Low under all these ancient victims to pride, and 
 covetousness, and riot, lay Alexander, who threw 
 foul scandal on his father's name, and claimed to be 
 the son of Jupiter Ammon, till by a shameful death 
 he became scorned of gods and men. 
 
 All these were thrown together in one heap, like 
 the carcases of beasts, in a butcher's stall ; and in 
 another corner were strown the ruins of ancient 
 Rome. There were Romulus, Tarquin, Lentulus, 
 Scipio, Hannibal, Scylla, Marius, Caesar, Pompey, 
 and Antonius. These had been condemned for 
 kindred vices ; as pride, stubbornness, ambition, cru- 
 elty, vain-glory, avarice, and debauchery. Some 
 women were seen among these men of renown and 
 of guilt ; proud women, who would not submit to 
 lawful restraint or decent customs. Semiramis, bold 
 and masculine, whose side was pierced by the sword 
 of her son, here sat in woe unutterable. Stenoboea, 
 who choked herself with a cord, because she could 
 not have her will, was also receiving here the pun- 
 ishment of proud rebellion. Here too was Cleopa- 
 tra, who destroyed her own life, with a deadly asp ; 
 
OR HOLINESS. 91 
 
 and thousands more, whose virtue had yielded to the 
 voice of pride, or ambition, or self-love, or desire for 
 worldly honors. Most of the wretched beings who 
 were crowded into this dark and dreary prison, had 
 been brought there by wicked pride, and riotous liv- 
 ing. The greater part of them came from the courts 
 of princes, or from ladies' bowers ; where they had 
 lived in idle pomp, or wasted life in luxurious indul- 
 gence. When the careful dwarf informed his mas- 
 ter of what he had seen and heard, in this abode of 
 terror, the knight departed forthwith ; he would not 
 risk the danger of sleeping another night in that 
 house of Pride and Falsehood ; but departed pri- 
 vately, by a postern gate, for he knew that if he was 
 seen, his death would be inevitable. 
 
 Scarcely could he find footing on the road from 
 this treacherous palace. The way was choked with 
 the carcases of murdered men, all of whom had 
 fallen by the arts of the proud princess ; and even 
 after he had left the grounds belonging to the castle, 
 he saw heaps of dead men piled against the walls 
 which surrounded it, melancholy victims of pride 
 and extravagance. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 From lawless love by wondrous grace 
 
 Fair Una is released ; 
 Whom savage nations do adore 
 
 And learn her wise behests. 
 
 The knight of the Red Cross, like the amazed 
 mariner, who (his goodly ship driven rapidly before 
 the wind,) escapes the hidden rocks, on which, but 
 for divine aid, he must inevitably have been wrecked, 
 looks distracted between joy and fear, at having 
 escaped the perils which beset him in the palace of 
 Pride. He hardly dared rejoice at his wonderful 
 preservation, when he reflected on his own folly in 
 listening to the voice of the deceptive, though splendid 
 princess, who had so long detained him a willing 
 prisoner. Hitherto his courage was without dread, 
 but conscious guilt now made him tremble, and the 
 dangers he had passed rose to his view in redoubled 
 horror. He was sad too, because in his haste, he had 
 left the fair Duessa 25 exposed to all the trials of that 
 house of pride and riot. And Una also, in her 
 loveliness and purity arose in his mind at this moment 
 of serious reflection ; and he dreaded the fate of one> 
 
94 
 
 who had stained her truth with treason against her 
 faithful lover. Happy had it been for this young 
 knight, if he had not too readily judged by appear- 
 ances, and listened too eagerly to the voice of slander ! 
 Crime could find no place in the bosom of Una. 
 
 This fair creature had wandered from western to 
 eastern India, to seek him who had so cruelly forsa- 
 ken her, having stopped only to recruit her fainting 
 spirits and exhausted strength, till she was seized by 
 the fierce Sansloy, who, after the defeat of Archimago, 
 led her away into a wild forest. Here he concealed 
 her, and becoming enamoured of her exquisite 
 beauty, tried to win her love. He used gentle words 
 and looks, sighed often, entreated, flattered ; but all 
 would not do. Una abhored him, and was as stead- 
 fast as a rock of diamond. He then became furious, 
 tore the veil from her head, and gazed rudely on the 
 sun-bright beauty of her divine face. 
 
 1 Ye heavens ! ' she exclaimed, ' how can ye with- 
 hold your vengeance, and not hurl flashing flames 
 upon this bold pagan.' Shrieking with unfeigned 
 agony, when he attempted to touch her pure and 
 spotless form, her cries made the stars weep; and 
 Phoebus, flying from so shameful a sight, hid his 
 blushing face in clouds. Who now can save her ? 
 who protect one so fair, so good, so helpless, from 
 the unholy love of the bold, bad infidel ? Eternal 
 Providence! it is thou alone can save us in our 
 
OR HOLINESS. 95 
 
 utmost need. Thou canst find means, of which 
 mortal man could have no conception. And thou, 
 who never forsakest the faithful and the trusting, 
 wrought for this helpless lady a wonderful salvation. 
 
 The shrill outcries of Una were echoed through 
 woods and forests, and reached the ears of a troop of 
 fawns and satyrs, who were dancing in a far distant 
 wood ; while their master, old Sylvanus, was sound 
 asleep in an adjacent arbour. When they heard her 
 shrieks, they hastily forsook their sports and ran 
 towards that part of the forest whence the noise 
 rebounded, eager to ascertain the cause of such loud 
 lamentations. They soon reached the spot where 
 the raging Saracen was forcibly detaining the affright- 
 ed Una. When the knight beheld such a rabble of 
 rude, misshapen monsters, he let go the lady, seized 
 his horse, mounted, and rode rapidly, in speechless 
 horror, from the forest. 
 
 The wild wood-gods stood astonished at the bright 
 beauty of Una, although she was bathed in tears, and 
 with disordered hair, stood trembling with terror at 
 her desolate and dangerous condition. Her dread 
 was redoubled, and her amazement exceeded descrip- 
 tion, at the strange beings before her. W~e have seen 
 a greedy wolf suddenly seize upon a lamb, innocent 
 and lovely, upon which he intended to make a bloody 
 feast. We have seen a lion rush upon this wolf, 
 and pursue it till the terrified creature dropped his 
 

 96 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 gentle prey and fled to save its own life. As trembled 
 and quaked, in every limb, the inoffensive lamb, 
 fearing as much the lordly lion as the ravenous wolf, 
 so trembled and so looked the terrified lady. She 
 could not speak, she could not move. The savage 
 beings around her appeared to understand her feel- 
 ings, and to read her sorrows in her countenance ; 
 their rustic foreheads became smoothed as if in pity ; 
 a gentle grin appeared upon their rough faces, which 
 bore some resemblance to a smile, as if they would 
 comfort her ; and to show their readiness to obey her, 
 they bent down quietly before her. 
 
 Doubtful about the nature of these strange animals, 
 the afflicted Una, between fear and hope, hardly 
 dared move. She had so recently suffered by trusting 
 a stranger, that she hesitated about yielding her per- 
 son to these wild-looking creatures ; but they, as if in 
 compassion to her youth, and wondering at the sov- 
 ereign beauty of her face, fell prostrate at her feet, 
 kissed them, and fawned upon them with caressing 
 tenderness. Their gentleness, their evident pity, and 
 the humble manner in which they seemed to proffer 
 submission, encouraged her so much, that she rose 
 from the ground, and walked forth from the retreat 
 as if she felt perfect confidence in them. They were 
 as glad as birds in spring, caroling at the approach 
 of Aurora ; they danced about her, singing rustic 
 ballads ; they strewed green leaves in her path, and, 
 
 j 
 
OR HOLINESS. 97 
 
 worshipping her as queen, crowned her with a gar- 
 land of olives. The long, deep woods re-echoed 
 with their merry pipes, and they leaped and danced 
 and gambolled, like kids in spring time, till they wore 
 the ground away with their horned feet ; and in this 
 joyous mood, they led her to the arbour of old Syl- 
 vanus, who had been awakened by the uncommon 
 noise, and was coming forth, supporting his feeble 
 steps with a staff of cypress wood. The aged god 
 could not imagine what produced so much joy among 
 his people. Perhaps, thought he, they have been 
 drinking with Bacchus ; or the frantic rites of Cybele 
 have made them mad. The merry group soon drew 
 near, and presented to their god the flower of faith 
 and beauty. Sylvanus, viewing the rare creature, 
 stood amazed. Never had he seen charms so resplen- 
 dent. His own fair Dyrope no longer seemed fair, 
 and Pholoe had no charms, when compared with the 
 beautiful Una. The wood-born people fell at her 
 feet and worshipped her as goddess of the woods, 
 and old Sylvanus doubted if she were born of earth. 
 Sometimes he thought it was Venus who stood before 
 him ; but Venus never had so sad and grave an air. 
 Then he thought it might be Diana, but this fair 
 creature had neither bow, nor shafts, nor buskin. 
 Gazing at her in mute admiration, her beauty recalled 
 to his mind one whom he once loved, his dearest 
 Cyparisse. She seemed to be his living portraiture. 
 9 
 
98 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 Yet she was fairer. She also brought fresh to his 
 memory the melancholy incident, which caused the 
 death of that lovely boy. It was this. Sylvan us, by 
 accident, slew a hind, which the affectionate child 
 loved more than any worldly thing that he possessed, 
 and its death caused him to pine away in anguish. 
 He was self-willed and would not be comforted. 
 
 While Sylvanus, with the fawns and satyrs, thus 
 stood and knelt about Una ; the wood-nymphs came 
 running to the place, and all the troop of light-footed 
 naids flocked around her. Her heavenly grace and 
 beauty inspired them with jealousy and envy, and 
 they fled away ; but not so the satyrs ; they continued 
 faithful to the fair object of their worship, and thought 
 no one else on earth was lovely. Una, glad of finding 
 safety among these honest wood-gods, was content to 
 remain a long time with them. It seemed to her a 
 merciful respite from intense misery, and she tried to 
 instruct them, and teach them truth. She mildly 
 restrained their worship of herself; but it was of 
 little use, since they would worship the beast she 
 rode upon, unless permitted to do homage to her. 
 
 It happened at this time, that a noble knight entered 
 the forest, to seek some of his kindred ; for he was 
 the son of a satyr, and born in that very wood where 
 Una was now resting from her long and anxious 
 wanderings. The knight had been abroad, where he 
 gained much fame and glory by his mighty deeds in 
 
OR HOLINESS. 99 
 
 arms. He was plain, faithful, true ; an enemy to 
 shame, a generous champion for the rights of fair 
 ladies; but averse to vain glorious combats. His 
 mother's name was Thyamis, the daughter of La- 
 bryde. This lady married Therion, a rough, unruly 
 hunter, who took more pleasure in chasing wild beasts 
 than in serving his lady-love. She lived long and 
 unhappily with him. After some years she became 
 the mother of the knight who had just entered the 
 forest ; and as a satyr was his father, they named the 
 boy Satyrane. He was brought up in a most singular 
 manner; taught from infancy to be familiar with 
 ferocious beasts, to handle the lion's mane, to play 
 with his whelps, to hunt, and perform all manner of 
 woodland feats. When he had made every beast of 
 the forest submit to his power, be began to desire 
 foreign conquest, and went abroad in search of ad- 
 ventures ; and never, in all his encounters in field or 
 tournament, had he been conquered ; so that his fame 
 was trumpeted through all fairy land. It was his 
 custom to return occasionally to his native forest to 
 see his father, and his other kindred ; and it was for 
 this purpose that he now entered the wood. The 
 sight of Una in her loveliness astonished him. She 
 was seated on the ground, surrounded by the satyrs, 
 to whom she was teaching religious truth. Her 
 courteous manner, her rare and heavenly wisdom, 
 and the sadness of her sweet face, enforced from the 
 
 LofC. 
 
100 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 stranger knight both admiration and pity, and he 
 became her truest disciple ; listening to her with 
 delight, and learning from her the discipline of faith 
 and truth. 
 
 Una, however, took little pleasure in her new 
 acquaintance. The Red Cross Knight was lord of 
 her affections. She had promised to be his, and his 
 only ; and at last, she resolved to acquaint Satyrane 
 with her unfortunate separation from her lover ; and 
 to see if he could aid her in escaping from her sylvan 
 friends. Glad by any means to gain her favour, he 
 soon laid the plan of their escape ; and one day, when 
 all the satyrs had gone to do service to Sylvanus, and 
 the maiden was left alone, Satyrane, stout and bold, 
 took advantage of their absence, and led her from 
 the forest ; and with great tenderness and care, hast- 
 ened her rapidly on, till the woods were passed, and 
 they reached the open plain. 
 
 The day was about half spent, when they perceived 
 a weary traveller walking slowly by the way-side. 
 Anxious to hear if any news was abroad, they rode 
 towards him at so quick a pace, that the man was, or 
 pretended to be, frightened, and turned away from 
 them ; however, they were too earnest about hearing 
 whether the knight of the Red Cross had been seen 
 in the region around the forest, to allow him to 
 escape, and they rode still faster, till he was obliged 
 to turn and answer their inquiries. 
 
OR HOLINESS. 101 
 
 The man appeared very simple ; was dressed in 
 garments much worn ; his sandals were torn and 
 ragged ; his face scorched with the burning sun, as 
 if he had travelled through the sands of Arabia and 
 India. He had a kind of Jacob's staff in his hand, 
 upon which he supported his weary limbs, and he 
 carried his necessary food in a scrip on his back. 
 The knight inquired of him about wars and adven- 
 tures ; and whether any thing new had arisen about 
 either. He answered, that he knew of nothing. Una 
 then asked him if he ' had seen a knight, who bore 
 upon his breast a red cross ? ' 
 
 i Ah me, dear dame,' he replied, < I regret to tell 
 thee the sad sight these eyes have seen. I have 
 seen that noble knight both alive, and dead.' Una 
 swooned at this sudden and abrupt announcement. 
 Satyrane, with much tenderness, raised her from the 
 earth, and used every kind and suitable relief, till she 
 so far revived as to entreat a minute detail of all 
 that related to the death of her noble lover. < I have 
 heard,' said she, ' that he is dead. I can bear any 
 thing now, since I live after enduring that pang.' 
 
 The seeming pilgrim then began. ' I was travel- 
 ing, this fatal day, deeply musing on the toils and 
 miseries of life, when I suddenly came upon a wide 
 plain, where two furious knights were trying each 
 to kill the other. They fought with such blind rage, 
 that all law and rule of manly combat was neglected, 
 9* 
 
102 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 and the Red Cross Knight was soon laid dead upon 
 the field.' 
 
 6 Ah dearest lord,' cried Una, ' how can this be, 
 and you so brave, so noble ! ' 
 
 ' I saw the thing done,' said the pilgrim ; ' I saw 
 their swords bathed in blood; I saw him expire.' 
 
 ' Where,' inquired Satyrane, ' is that bold pagan, 
 who has robbed that noble knight of life, and us, of 
 
 joy?' 
 
 ' Not far from here,' replied the man ; ' 1 left him, 
 bathing his wound at a fountain yonder.' 
 
 Satyrane rode rapidly towards the spot, leaving the 
 sorrowing Una to follow, as fast as the heaviness of 
 her heart would permit. He soon found the pagan ; 
 it was the cruel Sansloy, from whom Una had been 
 rescued by the wood-gods. Satyrane thus addressed 
 him. ' Rise, miscreant ; you, who by guile and 
 treachery have slain the good knight of the Red 
 Cross. Arise, and, if thou canst, maintain thy wrong ; 
 or yield to my more honest sword.' 
 
 ' Misborn elfe,' replied Sansloy, ' you come in an 
 evil hour ; thy foes have sent thee hither in another's 
 quarrel, but you blame me without cause, and call 
 me guilty and traitorous for what I have not done. 
 I have not slain the Red Cross Knight ; but, had he 
 been here, instead of lending his arms to another, 
 he, like the vain enchanter, would have had cause 
 to rue his bold attempt, as thou shalt,' 
 
 i 
 
OR HOLINESS, 103 
 
 So saying, he fell furiously upon Satyrane, and 
 assailed him with thundering blows. 
 
 Satyrane was no less fierce; and their battered 
 arms, and deep wounds, soon attested the mighty 
 strength of both. The fight was long and dreadful. 
 It often ceased, to give breathing time to the enraged 
 combatants ; and was as often renewed with bitter 
 vengeance. The clash of arms at length reached 
 the sad, dejected Una. She hastened to the spot, to 
 behold the most revolting of earthly sights ; man, 
 bathed in the blood of his fellow man, deformed 
 with wounds, and mad with rage. But the proud 
 Saracen, as soon as he saw the lovely Una, left the 
 doubtful battle to seize his lost prize. 
 
 Then Satyrane, striking him with his powerful 
 arm, bade him desist, and attend to other business. 
 ' Hunt no more,' said he, 6 the steps of that unspotted 
 maid. She is too pure for thee, base infidel ; away ; 
 let us decide which of us twain shall win this hard- 
 contested field.' 
 
 'O, foolish fairy's son,' replied the Saracen, 'what 
 mad fury incenses thee to hasten thy dreadful fate ? 
 Let me have the lady, before it is too late for thee 
 to repent. Senseless man, you hate yourself in loving 
 her so much. But, if it must be so,' (striking him) 
 * there ! take thy lover's token on thy pate.' Thus 
 the fight was renewed, and the royal maiden fled 
 in terror from the pagan knight. 
 
104 LEGEND OP ST. GEORGE, 
 
 It was the wicked old Archimago, who had again 
 deceived Una, in the guise of a holy pilgrim ; and 
 he now secreted himself behind a cluster of trees, 
 to behold all the misery which he had occasioned ; 
 rejoicing to see the blood flow from the gashed 
 bodies of these furious knights. When he saw Una 
 fly, he left his hiding place and pursued the perse- 
 cuted viptim of his base magic, and infernal art. The 
 relation of her new afflictions, and the result of the 
 protracted battle, must fill another chapter. 
 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Red Cross Knight is captive made 
 
 By giant proud opprest ; 
 Prince Arthur meets with Una, great- 
 
 Ly with these news distrest. 
 
 What man on earth is so wise, who has wit so 
 rare, as to discern the craft and cunning of hypoc- 
 risy? Who can discover behind the fair visor of 
 deceit the deep-died colors of slander and untruth ? 
 She can assume so well, can shape her gestures to 
 her purpose so perfectly, and frame to truth's fair 
 semblance so excellently her words and looks, that 
 a guileless heart cannot chuse, but must believe such 
 seeming virtue. Thus was it with Duessa. She 
 was completely mistress of deceit, and assumed the 
 name of Fidessa, as a mantle to conceal the hateful- 
 ness of her real character. 
 
 After this bad woman had returned from her 
 journey to the infernal regions with Night, she went 
 directly to the house of Pride, where she had left the 
 Red Cross Knight, who she had determined should 
 sooner or later become her prey. When she heard 
 he had left the palace, she would stay no longer there, 
 but went immediately in pursuit of him. It was not 
 
106 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 a long time before she found him, resting by a foun- 
 tain. He was very weary, had taken off his armour, 
 and had turned his horse loose to feed upon the turf. 
 The knight was enjoying the feast of nature, the cool 
 shade ; and was bathing his burning forehead in the 
 breathing wind that floated freshly about him, and 
 played among the trembling leaves. Birds were 
 chanting their sweet music, and soothed his spirit, so 
 long agitated by strange and sad events. 
 
 The witch, Duessa, seeing him in this lovely retreat, 
 approached him with smiles ; yet gently reproached 
 him for unkindness, in leaving her so carelessly in 
 such a dangerous place; artfully tempering every 
 hard word with one more kind, like honey mingled 
 with gall. All unkindness soon passed away, and 
 they began to enjoy the luxury of the delicious shade, 
 where intertwined leaves of rich green excluded 
 entirely the noon tide heat. The fountain swelled up 
 freshly at their feet ; a fountain that was never dry, 
 even in the most fervent summers ; but the waters of 
 this beautiful spring were unwholesome, producing 
 feebleness and faintness in all who drank them. The 
 cause was this. Diana and her nymphs were one 
 day following the chase, and the nymph who was 
 goddess of this fountain became so faint and weary, 
 that she sunk down in the midst of the race ; at 
 which Diana was so wroth, that she sentenced her to 
 the disgrace of being the guardian genius of un whole- 
 
OR HOLINESS. 107 
 
 some waters, and decreed that all who drank of the 
 fountain should, like her, become faint and feeble. 
 
 The knight was entirely ignorant of all this, and 
 being extremely thirsty, lay down by the stream and 
 drank freely of its chrystal waters. He soon felt the 
 fatal effects. His mighty strength began to fail ; all 
 his powers within seemed to change ; his manly 
 sentiments were lost, his cheerful blood curdled in 
 his veins from fear ; and a feverish heat pervaded his 
 whole system. He did not appear to realize the 
 change that had come over him; but talked and 
 sported gaily with his fair, false companion, and 
 seemed wholly to forget that he was an honorable 
 knight, pledged to protect the distressed, and do all 
 noble deeds. 26 
 
 While he thus trifled away the precious hours, he 
 was startled by a tremendous bellowing, that, sound- 
 ing through the vast forest, seemed to make the earth 
 shake and the trees tremble. The knight, astonished, 
 started lightly to his feet, and began in great haste to 
 put on his armour ; but before he could accomplish 
 this, or possess himself of his shield, his monstrous 
 enemy appeared in sight, and stalked towards him 
 with sturdy steps. 
 
 He was a hideous giant, horrible in form and height. 
 His head seemed to reach the sky; the ground 
 groaned beneath his tread. No living man ever before 
 beheld a monster of such size. It is said that Earth 
 
108 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 was the mother of this strange being, and that Eolus 
 was his father ; that he was very vain and arrogant, 
 because of his high descent ; and presuming upon 
 his matchless power, defied all the knights whom he 
 met, with the greatest scorn. The knight of the 
 Red Cross had become so enfeebled by the waters of 
 the fountain, that he saw the giant approach in hope- 
 less terror : he could scarcely wield his single lance, 
 and if he had not been blessed by heavenly grace, he 
 would have been ground to powder by the giant, who 
 had rent from his mother Earth a scraggy oak, with 
 which he battled whomsoever he met. With this 
 enormous weapon he struck the knight ; the blow 
 would have crushed him to atoms, had it fallen di- 
 rectly upon him ; but he happily sprung aside, and, 
 though the force of the strong current of air which 
 was put in motion by the tree knocked him down in 
 a deadly swoon, it did not kill him. The giant, seeing 
 this, again heaved his enormous arm to strike a blow 
 that would have crumbled him to dust, but Duessa 
 cried aloud for him to spare his life. i Hold ! ' she 
 cried, 'hold! great Orgoglio, 27 the greatest under 
 heaven ! for my sake spare him ; make him thy bond- 
 slave, and take me for thy reward.' 
 
 Duessa was extremely beautiful, and beauty has 
 great power, even when not adorned with virtue ; 
 so the giant willingly granted her request, and took 
 the senseless knight, and bore him in his arms to his 
 
OR HOLINESS. 109 
 
 own castle. There he had him thrown, without pity 
 or remorse, into a deep dungeon. Duessa followed 
 the giant, and became his favorite; was highly hon- 
 ored, clothed in gold and purple, a triple crown was 
 placed upon her head, and she was endowed with 
 royalty. To give her authority, and to make people 
 fear her more, he placed her upon the most hideous 
 monster ever created. It somewhat resembled the 
 snake that was fostered in the lake of Lerna, and 
 which Hercules slew, after a most toilsome labour, 
 which was nearly endless also ; for, as soon as Her- 
 cules had struck one head from the snake, another 
 would instantly grow in its place. 
 
 But the monster upon which Duessa rode was more 
 dreadful still. Seven heads grew at once from his 
 body, and his back was iron, covered with brass scales. 
 His eyes were red as blood r yet shone like coals of 
 fire ; his tail was so enormously long that when raised 
 it touched the sky, and often dashed the stars down 
 to earth. He would tread sacred things beneath his 
 feet, and spurn at all holy behests. 
 
 When the poor dwarf saw his master lifeless as it 
 seemed, and carried away by the giant, he gathered 
 up the knight's armour, the silver shield, and spear, 
 which had been the death of so many valiant men, 
 and laying them upon the noble courser, that was 
 grazing peacefully near the fountain, moved sadly 
 and in distress towards home. He had not travelled 
 10 
 
110 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 long, before he met his unhappy lady, who was flying 
 in terror from the Saracen. As soon as her eye 
 rested on the dwarf and the armour which he bore, 
 she fainted, and sunk upon the earth. 28 The heart 
 of the dwarf died within him at so piteous a sight, 
 but he retained sufficient strength to give every 
 needful assistance to his mistress, who, returning 
 once more to life, burst into a heart-breaking lamen- 
 tation. ' Ye dreary instruments of sight,' she ex- 
 claimed, ' why do you behold this spectacle ? why do 
 you linger, and feed on the light of heaven, now his 
 life is destroyed in which my life and love were 
 centred? Come, darkest night ! and hide these ob- 
 jects from my view ; and you, lightsome day ! whom 
 Jove first made to guide us in the paths of peace and 
 virtue, hide thy hated face, shut up heaven's windows, 
 and close my eyes on vanities forever.' Again the 
 afflicted Una fainted; and not till the passing off 
 of her third fit could she listen composedly to the 
 dwarf's history of events, since he left her in the 
 house of Archimago. When she had heard all, and 
 ascertained that there was some hope that the Knight 
 of the Red Cross was yet alive, she resolved to renew 
 her journeyings, in company with the dwarf; and, 
 constant to her purpose, she endured storms, bitter 
 winds, travelled over hills and through vallies, search- 
 ed every wood and every dale. One day, she happily 
 met a renowned knight with his esquire. His armour 
 
OR HOLINESS. Ill 
 
 was exceedingly rich ; it glittered like the brightest 
 rays of Phoebus, and it was so compact that no mortal 
 weapon could find an entrance. Across his breast 
 was a bauldric covered with precious stones, like stains 
 in brilliancy, and in the middle of the bauldric was 
 a stone, shaped like a lady's head : its size, beauty 
 and worth were incalculable. It looked like Hesper- 
 is among the lesser stars. From this was suspended 
 his sword, sheathed in ivory of curious workmanship. 
 The hilt was burnished gold, and the handle mother 
 of pearl. Brightness and terror were united in his 
 helmet. For the crest was a wrought golden 
 dragon with extended claws and spread wings, and 
 his head was closely couched on the beaver, seeming 
 to throw from his mouth flames of bright, sparkling 
 red; the tail, glittering with scales of gold, stretched 
 low down upon the knight's shoulders. The top of 
 this splendid helmet was adorned with hair of various 
 colors, sprinkled with pearl and gold ; it seemed to 
 dance for joy as the noble horseman moved gracefully 
 along. It looked like a tall almond tree, standing 
 alone on green Selinis, bedecked with delicate blos- 
 soms, whose slender stems tremble at every breath 
 that blows under the heaven. The warlike shield 
 that was borne by this wonderful knight, was veiled ; 
 no mortal eye could look upon it. It was neither 
 brass nor steel, nor any earthly metal, but a pure 
 diamond, one, entire, and massy. It was hewn from 
 
112 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 a rock of adamant ; no spear could pierce it, no sword 
 divide its substance. He never unveiled its glories 
 except to dismay some monster, to daunt unequal 
 armies, or to fright the hosts of heavenly bodies. It 
 paled the gold face of Phoebus, as if a cloud passed 
 over it ; and silver Cynthia fainted when its glistening 
 ray shone upon her. No magic arts had any power 
 in presence of this shield, the bloody words of en- 
 chanters no effect. All that was not pure, sincere, 
 honest, faded away before it, and when the knight 
 chose to appal a rascally mob, or defeat unlawful 
 combinations, he could transform men into stones, 
 and stones into dust, and dust to nothing, by its power. 
 He could make blind the proud, and turn their beauty 
 to deformity. 
 
 Let not the truth of this account be doubted, for he 
 that made this shield has done more wondrous deeds. 
 It was Merlin, who excelled all people living in magic 
 arts, that wrought this shield, and all the armour in 
 which this noble knight was cased. In after years, 
 when this knight died, the faerie queene brought all 
 this wondrous armor to fairy land, where it may be 
 found by those who seek for it. The youth who 
 attended upon this knight was gentle, and much 
 loved by his master. He rode a noble horse with 
 great skill ; for the animal seemed to tread on air, and 
 to rebel at all restraint, trampling, champing his iron 
 bits, and foaming with repressed ardor. 29 
 
OR HOLINESS. 118 
 
 The stranger knight addressed Una with courtesy 
 and respect ; but when he heard her reluctant an- 
 swers, and low, sad tones, he knew that some sorrows 
 weighed heavy upon her heart, and suiting his manner 
 to the lady's dejected mood, he spoke to her so gently, 
 and with such respectful tenderness, that her heart 
 was moved, and she thus answered his courteous 
 inquiries. ' Sir knight, such heavy cause of grief is 
 now upon me, that I can take no joy in conversation 
 My heart is plunged into a sea of misery. Cold chills 
 creep through my veins, when I reflect upon my 
 bitter woes ; it will do no good, and only increase 
 my troubles, to relate them ; for I have now only one 
 comfort left, and that is leave to weep.' 
 
 ' Dear lady,' replied the knight, ' I see your grief, 
 and my spirit sympathizes with yours ; but let me 
 entreat you to repose trust in my sacred honour and 
 impart to me all your causes for anguish. Many 
 difficulties are conquered by discreet advice, and wise 
 counsel mitigates our distress. He never can be 
 cured, who will not let his wounds be healed.' 
 
 ' Oh,' she replied, ' great grief cannot be told. It is 
 more easily thought than said.' 
 
 6 True, lady,' returned the knight, < he that will not, 
 cannot ; but ivill gives power to utter all we wish or 
 feel.' 
 
 ' Sir knight,' answered Una, < grief grows greater, 
 10* 
 
114 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 when displayed to the view of others, and if it does 
 not find relief, it breeds despair.' 
 
 ' Not so, fair lady, it does not breed despair if our 
 faith is firm.' 
 
 ' No faith,' replied the afflicted maiden, ' is so strong 
 that flesh will not impair it.' 
 
 * If flesh does impair it,' he answered, ' reason 
 will repair it.' 
 
 The gentle words and sound reasoning of the 
 knight sunk deep into the mind of Una, and she 
 consented to disclose to him the story of her misfor- 
 tunes. ' Fair sir,' she began, ' I hope kind fortune 
 has sent you to inquire into my history ; and that 
 your wisdom will enable me to act wisely, and your 
 prowess will yield me much needed relief. The 
 forlorn maiden whom you see before you, the laugh- 
 ing-stock of fortune, is the only daughter of a king 
 and queen. My parents once reigned over all that 
 territory surrounded by Phison, Euphrates, and Ge- 
 shon. They were driven from their rightful inher- 
 itance by a tremendous dragon, horrible to the sight. 
 It was bred in the loathsome lake of Tartary, and to 
 escape being devoured by the monster, my parents 
 were obliged to take refuge in a strong castle, secured 
 by brazen walls, where he has continued to besiege 
 them day and night, for many years. Many adven- 
 turous knights, stout and brave, have endeavoured to 
 
 
 
O R H0L1NE S S. 115 
 
 subdue him, but in vain ; he has grown more and 
 more powerful, and all the knights, either from want 
 of faith, or because stained with crimes, have fallen 
 victims to his boundless rage and cruelty. 
 
 ' At last I became so anxious to liberate my beloved 
 parents, that I myself went to the court of Gloriana, 
 the far-famed queen of fairy land. Fame had spread 
 far and wide the names of powerful knights who 
 served this glorious maiden princess, the capital of 
 whose kingdom is Cleopolis. To this city and court 
 I went, and besought that sovereign lady to let me 
 chuse a champion from among her noblest warriors. 
 I was so fortunate as to select a young knight, who 
 was fresh and unproved. His hands had never shed 
 human blood, nor had he ever thrown in knightly 
 lists a brave compeer, by traitorous means. 
 
 'And, indeed, he has given proof of prowess, 
 beyond praise, as this his shield and armour can well 
 witness ; now left, the records of his hard fate, and my 
 too heavy loss. I had hope, (and the beginning was 
 most fair,) that he would redeem me and my parents 
 from captivity. But, a vile enchanter abused his 
 senses, and made him believe I was disloyal. Rather 
 would I have died. Witness, ye heavens, how I 
 loved him ! I thought him true and noble, and yet 
 believe that I thought right. But he has left me 
 desolate, to wander where wild fortune directs, and 
 
116 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 took himself to paths and ways so dangerous, that 
 scarcely one ever lived who travelled thither. 
 
 6 In some of these bewildering mazes he met my 
 only enemy, my only dread, the false Duessa. She, 
 with her withcraft and pretended goodness, inveigled 
 him to follow her ; and leading him into the paths of 
 guilty pleasure, betrayed him to a giant of enormous 
 bulk. The noble knight had enfeebled his own 
 powers by unholy indulgence, and soon fell, helpless 
 and senseless, before his wicked adversary, and in 
 that state was conveyed to a loathsome dungeon. 
 Remediless woe awaits him ; for who can rescue him 
 from a conqueror so merciless ? This, sir knight, is 
 my cause of grief, and can the half be told ? ' 
 
 She had scarcely ended before she again grew 
 faint ; but the knight consoled her with these words : 
 'Certainly, madam, you have great cause for com- 
 plaint under which the stoutest heart might quake ; 
 but be of good cheer, and take comfort to j^ourself ; 
 for till 1 have restored your captive knight, I will not 
 leave you.' 
 
 These cheerful words revived her sinking spiritSj 
 and she agreed to accompany him, guided by the 
 faithful dwarf. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Fair virgin to redeem her dear, 
 
 Brings Arthur to the fight ; 
 Who slays the giant, wounds the beast, 
 
 And strips Duessa quite. 
 
 Many perils beset the path of a righteous man, 
 and he would certainly fall, if he were not upheld by- 
 heavenly Grace and steadfast Truth. The love of 
 Truth is firm and continual ; she supports man in all 
 his weaknesses, and saves him when folly, pride and 
 sin are striving to destroy him. Had it not been for 
 Grace and Truth, the Red Cross Knight must have 
 died in bondage. 
 
 When the travelers had rode sadly for some hours 
 the dwarf cried out, 'there is the strong and high 
 castle, in which my lord, my liege, is laid, deep in 
 some dungeon, subjected to the power of that enor- 
 mous giant. Now, noble sir, try your mighty powers.' 
 
 The knight instantly alighted from his courser, and 
 requested the lady to stay at a safe distance and see 
 what would be the issue of his attempt. He then 
 approached, with his esquire, to the castle gate. It 
 was fast closed. No warden nor living man was to 
 
118 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 be seen ; nor could he get any answer from within 
 its walls. Now his attendant wore at his side a small 
 bugle of twisted gold, ornamented with gay tassels. 
 Of things that excite wonder among men, nothing 
 ever equaled this little horn. Its virtues were man- 
 ifold and astonishing. There never was mortal being 
 that could hear its thrilling sound without fear and 
 trembling. It might be heard, in all its power, at 
 three miles distant, and would be echoed three times 
 from every rock and hill. No enchanters, no deceit- 
 ful trains, could withstand the terror of that blast: 
 themselves, their power, all vanished instantly before 
 it. No gate was strong enough to resist it ; no lock 
 firm enough to abide its force. Gates, doors, locks, 
 flew open, as its piercing note filled the surrounding 
 air. 
 
 At the blast of this bugle the castle shook to its 
 foundation, and every door and gate was instantly 
 unlocked and opened. The giant was dismayed, and 
 rushed from an inner bower, where he had been 
 sitting with Duessa. His countenance was stern ; he 
 looked astonished, and his feet staggered ; such sud- 
 den and strange horror was created by that blast. 
 His anger also was furious at such defiance of his 
 power. Duessa, on her many-headed beast, followed 
 the giant. Every head upon this monster displayed 
 its fiery tongue, and every mouth was stained with a 
 late bloody feast. 
 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 119 
 
 The knight, when he saw such terrible beings 
 approaching, seized his shield, fixed it upon his arm, 
 and began a fierce attack upon his foes. The giant, 
 inflamed with wrath, scorn, and disdain, with his 
 enormous club raised high, rushed upon Arthur, 
 determined at one blow to destroy the knight ; but 
 this noble youth was wise and wary ; he sprang aside 
 and escaped certain death. The club, missing the 
 knight, sunk three yards into the earth, making a 
 long, deep furrow ; and by its heavy fall, it produced 
 an earthquake, filling all who heard it with strange 
 fear and trembling. It sounded like a thunderbolt, 
 tearing, rending, and casting up a mountain of clay. 
 While the giant was trying to wrench this club from 
 the cleft ground, Arthur took advantage, and smote 
 off" one arm with his burning sword. The desperate 
 and deadly wound caused the terrified giant to roar 
 aloud, making all the fields and woods rebellow, as if 
 a herd of bulls were roaring with raging hunger. 
 
 When Duessa saw the danger that must result to 
 herself from the situation of her protector, she drew 
 up to his assistance with her terrific beast, which, 
 having been lately full fed with human flesh, stepped 
 proudly, and brandished his flaming tongues in pre- 
 sumptuous defiance. The brave youth, who waited 
 on prince Arthur, attacked this creature fiercely with 
 a single sword ; and stood like a bulwark between 
 him and his master. The proud Duessa was so full 
 
120 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 of disdain at this affront, that she forced her beast 
 onward with all her power, scorning the efforts of so 
 young and so unequal an enemy ; but the boy would 
 not yield, restraining the monster with tremendous 
 blows, and placing his own body between her and his 
 noble lord. The angry witch then resorted to her last 
 deadly means of overpowering the much-enduring 
 and matchless youth. She carried about with her a 
 golden cup, filled with magic arts. Those who drank 
 from it were poisoned ; despair seized them and they 
 longed for death. Repeating over some charm and 
 enchantment, she sprinkled the contents of her cup 
 over him. His courage failed and his senses forsook 
 him ; he sank down before the beast, who placed his 
 claw upon his neck, almost crushing him to death. 
 Arthur soon discovered the danger of his beloved 
 page, and turned instantly to the frightful beast, and 
 struck off one of its deformed heads. The creature 
 roared in agony, raised its enormous tail, beating the 
 air, and nearly threw his gorgeous rider to the blood- 
 stained earth, by the violence of his own wrath. 30 
 
 The giant, perceiving Duessa's danger, came with 
 tremendous power to her assistance. Though he 
 had lost an arm, his strength was not abated, and the 
 smart of his wound only increased his fury. The 
 knight Was forced to give way, and the giant almost 
 crushed him by one blow of his oak-tree club. The 
 encounter was so sudden and so powerful, that Ar- 
 
OR HOLINESS. 121 
 
 thur's wondrous shield was unfolded by his fall. The 
 light of it so far exceeded the light of day, it sent 
 such blazing brightness through the air, that the eye 
 could not endure it. The giant let fall his arm, and 
 dropped his huge weapon ; the many headed beast 
 became stark blind from the intolerable radiance, and 
 fell senseless to the ground ; and Duessa, seeing her 
 beast about to fall, called out in terror, ' O help, 
 Orgoglio, help, or we all perish ! ' Her champion 
 was moved with compassion at this appeal, and tried 
 once more to raise his weapon in her defence ; but in 
 vain. Since the glancing sight of that insufferable 
 shield, his force was gone ; he had neither power to 
 hurt, or to defend. That shield, like lightning from 
 the clouds of heaven, had paralyzed his senses, and 
 dimmed his dazzled eye. 31 In this state, the long 
 dreaded giant was again attacked by the prince, and 
 killed. He fell, like some aged tree, whose mighty 
 trunk, half rent, and half hewn by a keen axe, is 
 tumbled from an immense rock, or like some castle, 
 reared high and huge, which has been undermined 
 from its lowest foundations, and falls in one mass of 
 heavy ruins. The earth shook and quaked for fear 
 when Arthur struck his head from his gigantic shoul- 
 ders, and he fell prostrate on the field ; yet, in a few 
 moments, the huge mass of flesh shrivelled like an 
 emptied bladder. 
 
 Duessa, when she saw that the giant was indeed 
 11 
 
122 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 dead, made loud lamentations; threw down her 
 golden cup, took off her crown, and leaving them 
 behind, fled in great terror ; but the young squire of 
 prince Arthur pursued, and forced her to return to 
 his master, as his rightful prey. 32 
 
 The royal Una, who had beheld the dreadful battle, 
 and witnessed the wonderful courage and wisdom of 
 the prince, and his noble attendant, came hastily 
 towards them, in sober gladness, and mild modesty, 
 and first addressed Arthur in these words: * Fair 
 branch of nobleness, flower of chivalry ! thou hast 
 astonished the world with thy worth and bravery ! 
 how shall I ever requite the pain and danger you have 
 suffered for my sake ? ' Then turning to his page, 
 she said, ' and you, fresh bud of virtue, whom these 
 sad eyes saw so near to death, what has a poor 
 wanderer like me to give you for such peril ? ' 
 
 She next intreated that Duessa should be retained 
 a prisoner, telling the knight that it was her arts that 
 had seduced her dearest lord, and caused his impris- 
 onment. The knight commanded his esquire to 
 secure Duessa, and then entered the castle ; 33 but he 
 could find no living creature. A solemn silence 
 reigned over the entire building ; not a voice nor a 
 sound was heard ; but at last a miserable old man, 
 named Ignaro, came with a creeping pace towards 
 him ; he was blind and feeble, and carried a bunch of 
 rusty keys upon his arm. He was a strange being, 
 
OR HOLINESS. 123 
 
 and his feet were turned in such a way that his eyes 
 could not see the way he was going, but he looked 
 behind, while he moved forward. 
 
 The knight addressed him respectfully, (for he 
 always honored a grey head,) and gently inquired 
 where all the people were ? < I do not know,' said 
 the old man. 
 
 ' Where is the knight confined, whom Orgoglio 
 brought and imprisoned here ? ' 
 
 1 1 do not know,' he again answered. 
 
 * Which way may I pass ? ' inquired the knight. 
 
 * 1 do not know ! ' said the old man. 
 
 The courteous prince became angry. * Old sire,' 
 said he, ' it does not become your silver head to mock 
 in this way ; but if indeed you are as aged as nature's 
 pen has portrayed you to be, answer gravely what I 
 demand of thee.' 
 
 { I do not know,' replied the old man, for the fourth 
 time. 
 
 The prince now looked steadfastly at the face of 
 this queer being, and guessed his nature ; so stepping 
 towards him, he took the keys from his arm, and 
 entered the various rooms of the castle. There was 
 great display of wealth in all of them. The arras 
 was royal and magnificent ; resplendent gold glittered 
 on every article of furniture ; but the floors were 
 filthy beyond description ; infants had been murdered 
 there, and blood had flowed over the marbled pave- 
 
124 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 ments. In one room was a stone altar, on which 
 christian martyrs had been slain ; victims of super- 
 stition, and malice, and tyranny. 
 
 The knight passed quickly by these horrid proofs 
 of guilt, to find where the Red Cross Knight was 
 concealed; and, after much difficulty, found him 
 nearly dead in a very deep, dark, unwholesome dun- 
 geon. Three months had passed since he had seen 
 the light ; for his dungeon was as much deeper, as it 
 was filthier, than any other prison ; and prince Arthur 
 was annoyed beyond measure by the smell, and the 
 collection of dirt, in which the wretched man was 
 plunged. But disinterested love has no reluctance to 
 soil hands, or breathe unwholesome air, when misery 
 is to be relieved, and duty performed. 
 
 St. George was altered so much by his sufferings 
 that few would have known him ; his flesh was con- 
 sumed, his eyes sunk deep into his head, his skin 
 shriveled, and his vital powers decayed. When Una 
 saw him she ran with hasty joy to meet him, though 
 much shocked to see one so lately in the freshest 
 flower of youth, pale and wan ; and bursting into 
 tears, she said, ' Ah, dearest lord ! what evil star has 
 frowned upon you, and thus robbed you of yourself ? 
 But welcome, my lord, welcome in weal or woe. 
 Long and dreary has your absence been, and fortune 
 shall pay treble penance for the wrongs she has done 
 me, by now granting treble good.' 
 
 i 
 
OR HOLINESS. 125 
 
 The enfeebled and cheerless knight could not 
 answer ; he was enduring the extremity of hunger, 
 and could not listen even to his Una. i Fair lady,' 
 said prince Arthur, 'your friend has endured too 
 much to delight in hearing his woes refered to. The 
 only good that can grow out of thinking of the past, 
 is to be wise in future. This day's example has 
 written one truth with an iron pen upon my heart, 
 that perfect bliss cannot abide with man in his mortal 
 state.' 
 
 Then turning to the knight of the Red Cross, he 
 said, 'henceforth, sir knight, assume your wonted 
 strength, and conquer misfortune by patient endur- 
 ance. There is your foe dead before you, and here 
 is the bold, bad woman, who has been the root of all 
 your care and trouble. She is in your power, to let 
 her live or die.' 
 
 ' It were revenge to kill her,' said Una, ' and it would 
 be a shame to knighthood to destroy so weak an en- 
 emy. Strip off her scarlet robe and let her go.' The 
 royal maiden was obeyed, and Duessa was disrobed : 
 her purple and gold ornaments, and all her queen's 
 attire were taken from her, leaving her deformed, and 
 horrible to the sight. She was a loathsome, wrinkled 
 hag, too disgusting to be described. Her feet were 
 monstrous ; one of them was like the claw of an 
 eagle, the other like a bear's paw. 
 
 When the two knights beheld this monster, they 
 11 * 
 
126 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 were amazed, and Una thus addressed them : ' Such, 
 gentlemen, is the face of falsehood, such the appear- 
 ance of foul Duessa, when she lays aside her borrowed 
 light.' After taking from the witch every article of 
 borrowed finery, they let her go naked into the world, 
 to wander where ever she chose. She fled rapidly to a 
 waste wilderness ; for she hated the light of heaven, 
 and wanted to screen her open shame from all eyes. 
 She lurked about in rocks and caves for a long time, 
 and was not seen by any one. Una, with the two 
 noble knights, and their attendants, entered the castle, 
 and remained there till their weary limbs were rested, 
 and their exhausted powers replenished. 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 His loves and lineage Arthur tells : 
 The knights knit friendly bands : 
 
 Sir Trevisan flies from Despair, 
 
 Whom Red Cross Knight withstands. 
 
 There is a goodly golden chain, which links 
 together all the virtues in a most lovely manner; 
 and so in days of yore, were noble minds linked 
 together, in all brave pursuits of chivalry. No one 
 despised the safety of another, or hesitated to give 
 aid to such as required it. Each embraced every 
 opportunity to advance the praise, the interest, and 
 the happiness of the others, in the same manner as 
 prince Arthur had redeemed the Red Cross Knight 
 from bondage. 
 
 After resting in the castle long enough to see the 
 late captive restored to health and strength, prince 
 Arthur proposed that they should no longer remain 
 there, in ease and leisure, but go forth, like true 
 knights, in search of adventures. But Una besought 
 him to relate his history 34 before they left the castle, 
 that she might know his name and nation, and be 
 
128 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 able to record the great good which he had wrought 
 for her. 
 
 'You require, fair maiden,' said the prince, 'a 
 thing that comes not within the compass of my 
 wit. I neither know my lineage, nor my sire. As 
 soon as I was born, I was delivered to a faerie knight, 
 to be brought up in all martial exercises and gentle- 
 manly qualities. He placed me with old Timon, 
 who, in his youth, was the expertest man alive in all 
 warlike achievements; and is now, I believe, the 
 wisest man on earth. He dwells, in a low, green 
 valley at the foot of mossy Rauran, whence the river 
 Dee's silver stream rolls, gently murmuring to the 
 ocean. In that spot all my days have been spent, and 
 he has trained me up in virtue and in wisdom. The 
 magician Merlin often came to our retreat ; for he 
 had charge to see that I was properly disciplined and 
 provided with tutors. I often asked him privately 
 about my lineage, and who my father was. His 
 answers were always to this effect: that time would 
 bring the truth to light, and that I was certainly son 
 and heir to a king.' 
 
 'Noble knight,' replied the lady, 'well do you 
 become such a tutor's hand. But what intent or 
 what adventure has brought you hither to faerie land ? 
 Tell us, prince Arthur, crown of martial heroes.' 
 
 ' Full hard is the task,' he replied, ' to tell the cause 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 129 
 
 of events, over which we have no control, and which 
 are guided by the hand of God, who rules our 
 thoughts and actions. I know not what cause brought 
 me hither. Perhaps He has some secret purpose^ 
 unguessed by me ; perhaps the fresh bleeding wound 
 in my own heart urges me on to seek relief in dan- 
 gerous adventure ; but be the cause what it may, I 
 hold myself blest in having helped you in your 
 distress.' 
 
 i Most courteous knight,' she replied, ' what could 
 wound the gentlest heart alive ? ' 
 
 ' Dear lady,' said he, c you are rekindling sparks, 
 that will burst into flame, I fear, and destroy my life ; 
 but, whether I grieve in silence, or speak aloud, the 
 fire consumes me ; therefore I will reveal what you, 
 in so much kindness, desire to know. I was in the 
 flower of youth, the time when manly courage fills 
 the soul, and the heart opens to the sentiment of 
 pure and generous love, when old Timon undertook 
 to caution and wisely instruct me about both. Par- 
 ticular^^ did he caution me respecting love ; that I 
 should not let it subdue my reason, and thus produce 
 ever new and ever increasing woes. Thus taught, 
 I scorned the idle life led by romantic lovers, as 
 the destruction of time, and the enemy of virtue. I 
 laughed at that tragic sorrow which they assumed, 
 and ridiculed the pains they took to blow up a fire 
 that was consuming them. The god of Love was 
 
130 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 grieved at the liberty I took with his victims, and 
 was continually shooting arrows from his bow at me. 
 I warded them off, for a long time, by prudent gov- 
 ernment of myself. But in vain do we trust in our 
 own strength. Without the aid of faith, and trust 
 in God ; without looking to Him for aid in all our 
 efforts, no human breast can be so armed as not to 
 be in danger of a wound. Nothing is sure that is 
 not founded on religion ; and the man that hopes to 
 escape from lurking foes, and hopes not to be caught 
 at disadvantage, must look to God for assistance. 
 This, dear lady, is proved by the sufferings of your 
 noble knight, and by mine. 
 
 ' One day I rode forth, feeling life a blessing, for 
 vigour was in every limb, and as I ranged fields and 
 forests, the heavens, the earth, the floods all seemed 
 to laugh with me in the joy of mere existence. 
 Wearied at length by riding, T sprung off my lofty 
 steed, and laid down upon the grass to sleep, taking 
 my helmet for a pillow. My slumber was sweet, and 
 1 dreamed that a royal maiden approached me. Her 
 words ravished my heart, and her exceeding beauty 
 astonished me. Never was form of earthly mould 
 so exquisite. She addressed me in love's kindest 
 accents, and assured me that her love was strong 
 and sincere, and that she was the Queene of the 
 Fairies. I awoke in an ecstasy of delight, but the 
 fair vision had fled, and from that day forth I have 
 
 j 
 
OR HOLINESS. 131 
 
 loved that form and face divine ; and, believing that 
 such a being really lives on earth, I am seeking her 
 day and night ; and it is here in faerie land alone, 
 that I can expect to find its queene. Nine months 
 have I sought her, and I have vowed never to rest, 
 till I have found her.' 35 The prince turned pale 
 at this recital of his nearly hopeless love, so hard 
 was the struggle in his mind between his affection 
 and his prudence. 
 
 Una exclaimed, when he had ended his story, 
 1 O happy faerie queene ! you have found among 
 many, one, who may defend thine honor, and con- 
 found thy foes. True love is often planted ; but it 
 rarely grows on earthly soil.' 
 
 6 Thine, fairest virgin,' said the knight of the Red 
 Cross, ' must be placed next to that of the faerie 
 queene's. Thou art full of heavenly light, and won- 
 drous faith. In my extremest case, thou hast loved 
 me truly, and you, my lord,' addressing the prince, 
 c you, the patron of my life, are worthy of that great 
 queen ; if living man can be worthy.' 
 
 Thus interchanging sentiments of confidence and 
 friendship, the two knights and the royal maiden 
 conversed, till the sun began to illumine the eastern 
 horizon. The prince then expressed renewed desires 
 to pursue his travels, and Una also was very anxious 
 to be going. The knights interchanged gifts of re- 
 membrance, and joined their right hands in token of 
 
132 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 lasting friendship. The prince gave to St. George a 
 diamond box, which enclosed a few drops of pure 
 liquor of wondrous power, for it would heal at once 
 the severest wounds, and the Red Cross Knight gave 
 the prince a book containing our Saviour's testament. 
 It was written in rich golden letters ; and was full 
 of grace and truth, able to save the souls of men. 
 The friends then parted. Arthur to seek his love, 
 and St. George to fight with Una's foe, and deliver 
 her realms from the usurper's power. 
 
 But the knight had not recovered his flesh and 
 strength : and Una travelled slowly, for she did not 
 want to expose him to dangers, till he was again in 
 possession of all his youthful powers. So they rode 
 leisurely along, enjoying the balmy air and lovely 
 scenery ; till they espied an armed knight, riding 
 rapidly towards them. He appeared to be fleeing 
 in fear, as if he had seen some terrible thing, for he 
 continually looked back as he fled, and urged on his 
 horse, which seemed to have winged feet, and to be 
 descended from Pegasus. As he drew near, they 
 could see that his head was unarmed, his hair uncurled 
 and uncombed, upstarted and stiff with terror. He 
 was deadly pale, and, (O, foul reproach to knight- 
 hood !) he wore about his neck an hempen rope, 
 which ill accorded with his glistening armour. The 
 Red Cross Knight rode hastily towards him, saying, 
 ' sir knight, tell who has thus frightened you, and 
 
OR HOLINESS. 133 
 
 from whom you are making this hasty flight ? I 
 never saw a knight in such a mis-seeming condition. 5 
 
 He answered not. New fear seemed added to 
 amazement ; his stony eyes lost all expression ; he 
 seemed petrified, as if he had seen all the furies 
 let loose upon him. Again, and again, the Red 
 Cross Knight addressed him ; but he spake not ; 
 and trembled in every joint. After several efforts 
 he at last faltered forth these words. ' For God ! 
 dear love, sir knight, do not stop me; for see, he 
 comes, he comes, fast upon me ! ' and looking back, 
 he would again have raced on, but St. George forced 
 him to stay and tell the cause of his perplexity. 
 
 He was obliged, in his own defence, though grow- 
 ing more and more terrified, to say { Am I now in 
 safety, from him, who was about to kill me? is the 
 point of death turned from me ? ' 
 
 4 Fear nothing,' said our knight, ' no danger is near 
 you.' 
 
 ' Then,' replied the stranger, ' I will tell you a 
 rueful case. I was lately in company with a fair 
 knight, sir Tirwin, called. He was bold and free ; 
 but not so happy as he might have been ; for he 
 loved a lady, who, though she loved him, was proud, 
 and delighted to see her lover languish and lament. 
 From this lady returning one day, sad and comfort- 
 less, we met that villain from whom I have just 
 escaped; a man of hell, that calls himself Despair. 
 12 
 

 134 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 He greeted us kindly, and told us of strange tidings 
 and adventures ; and, creeping closely to our sides, 
 inquired about our condition and our knightly deeds. 
 When he had learned our griefs, he artfully drew 
 from us all hope, and advised us to die at once ; for 
 which purpose he gave me this rope, and to the 
 other knight, he gave a rusty knife, with which, 
 hopeless of gaining his lady's love, and hating life, 
 he killed himself, and I fled hither, dismayed with 
 the shocking sight. Nor am I yet assured of life by 
 you, sir knight, for God has not permitted you to 
 hear his charmed speeches.' 
 
 ' How can a man,' replied the good St. George, 
 ' be won to destroy his own life ? ' 
 
 'I would not,' replied the other, i for all this 
 world's wealth, listen again to that man's words. 
 His subtle tongue drops honied poison into the 
 heart, which searches every vein, till one is reft of 
 all strength. O may I never see or hear him again ! ' 
 ' Certainly, said the Red Cross Knight,' I shall never 
 rest, till I have seen him and tried his power ; and 
 you, sir knight, whose name I beg to know, will do 
 me the grace to guide me to his cabin.' 
 
 ' My name is Trevisan,' replied he, ' and I will 
 ride back, against my liking, to oblige you ; but 
 neither for gold nor glee would I abide by you when 
 you have arrived there ; for I had rather die, than 
 see that face again.- 
 
OR HOLINESS, 135 
 
 The knights rode on and soon arrived at a low 
 hollow cave, beneath a craggy cliff, where wicked 
 Despair had his abiding place. It was dark, doleful, 
 dreary, like a greedy grave that craves for carrion 
 carcases. A ghastly owl stood on the cliff, shrieking 
 his baleful note, which drove from that hated spot 
 all cheerful birds. The trees hung from the rocks, 
 stubby, old, and leafless, on which many a despair- 
 ing wretch had hung himself. When they reached 
 the spot, the bare headed knight wanted to go back, 
 for he was afraid; but the other obliged him to 
 remain, and comforted him with hope ; they there- 
 fore entered the cave together. The man was sit- 
 ting in a musing, sullen posture upon the ground ; 
 his grisly locks hung long and loosely about his 
 shoulders, and over his face. His dull, deadly, 
 staring eye was seen through them; his face was 
 thin and ghastly ; his garments were ragged and 
 pined together with thorns ; and beside him lay 
 the weak, foolish knight to whom he had given the 
 rusty knife; it was sticking in the wound from 
 which the life blood was still flowing. When the 
 Red Cross Knight beheld this appalling sight, he 
 determined to destroy the cause of so much evil, and 
 said to the old man, ' Thou art the author of this 
 deed ; and justice demands that you should die. 
 Death is the price of blood.' 
 
 ' What frantic fit,' replied the old man, < has dis- 
 
136 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 traded thee, that thou givest so rash a doom ? Jus- 
 tice says, that he ought to die, who does not deserve 
 to live. His own guilty miud drove this man to 
 despair, I did not draw him. Let him die that hates 
 life ; and let him live and die in peace, who lives 
 here to assist weary travellers. If a man is travelling 
 in haste to his home, and meets a flood, is it not 
 kind to help him over it ? Or to free his feet, if he 
 stick in the mire? You are an envious man, to 
 grieve at your neighbors' good ; and foolish, to re- 
 joice in your own woes. If you will not pass the 
 flood, why would you prevent him, who has long 
 stood upon the bank, from passing over? This 
 man,' he added, pointing to the bleeding body beside 
 him, ' enjoys eternal rest, and happy ease, from 
 which, though you crave them, you go farther and 
 farther every day. Supposing he did have some 
 pain in passing the bitter waves, it was short and 
 well borne, and his soul sleeps in a quiet grave. 
 Nothing is more grateful to man, than sleep after 
 toil, a port after passing stormy seas, peace after war, 
 and death after life.' The knight was astonished 
 at the ready wit of this artful destroyer, who went 
 on to say, c The term of life is limited ; man can- 
 not prolong nor shorten it. Does not every thing 
 come from God ; and is it not his deed, whatever 
 is done in heaven or earth ? Did he not create all, 
 that all might die ? Are not their times written in 
 
OR HOLINESS. VS7 
 
 the eternal book of fate ? Who then can strive 
 against strong necessity, or shun the death which 
 destiny has ordained ? The longer you live, the 
 greater will be your sin, and the greater your pun- 
 ishment. All your great battles, all your strife, your 
 bloodshed and vengeance, now so much praised, 
 you will hereafter dearly repent ; for life must pay 
 for life, and blood for blood. It is not enough that 
 you intend to do better in future ; he that has once 
 missed the right way always goes more and more 
 astray from virtue. Therefore I advise thee to go 
 no farther ; lie down here and be at rest, for what 
 is there in life to make you love it ? Fear, sickness, 
 loss, labour, sorrow, strife, pain, hunger, cold, and 
 even fickle fortune. All of which, and a thousand 
 more things, make life hateful. Thou, wretched 
 man, hast greatest need of death ; for never knight 
 had more luckless adventures ; as witness the deep 
 dungeon wherein you were lately shut up to die. 
 And though good luck has prolonged your date a 
 little longer, it would have been happier for you, 
 had you died then. Why, O man of sin, do you 
 desire to live ? Is not the measure of your guilt 
 full ? Are not your iniquities already heaped to a 
 fearful height ? Is it not enough, that you forsook 
 this gentle lady and abused and disgraced yourself 
 with the vile Duessa ? Is not God just, who beholds 
 all this from heaven ? Shall he leave thy sins un- 
 12* 
 
138 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 punished ? Is not this his law, let every sinner die, 
 and is it not better to die willingly, than to linger 
 till the glass lose all its sand ? Death is the end of 
 all woe ; die soon, O faerie's son.' 
 
 The knight was so moved with the old man's 
 words ; his conscience was so awakened by them to 
 a sense of crimes ; they made him so abhorent to 
 himself, that all his manly powers forsook him, and 
 he fainted many times during the heart searching 
 address. When the base old man saw him thus 
 wavering and weak, and perceived that conscious 
 guilt had filled his soul with anguish, he determined 
 to drive him to despair, and held up before him a 
 painting, in which ghosts in torment, and fiends, and 
 fire and brimstone were pictured. 36 The horrid 
 scene so overpowered the judgment and reason of 
 the knight, that he beheld nothing but death and 
 burning wrath as the righteous sentence of the law of 
 heaven. Seeing this, the villain brought him swords, 
 and ropes, and poison, and fire, and bade him 
 choose which he would die by, for he must die, since 
 he had provoked the anger of his God. But when 
 he saw that the knight would not touch these, he 
 brought him a keen and polished dagger, and gave 
 it into his hand ; the hand trembled ; and the blood 
 was seen, through his pale face, coming and going 
 with tidings from the heart, as if it had been a run- 
 ing messenger. At last he resolved to kill himself, 
 and raised his hand to strike the blow. 
 
OR HOLINESS. 139 
 
 But Una, whose blood curdled, and ran cold to the 
 very well of life, snatched the knife from his hand, 
 and threw it on the ground, enraged at his weakness 
 and cowardice. ' Fie, fie, faint hearted knight,' said 
 she, ' what do you mean by this disgraceful strife ? 
 Is this the battle you have long vaunted that you were 
 to fight, with the fiery-mouthed dragon, so horrible, 
 and bright ? Come, come away, frail, feeble, fleshly 
 wight. Let not wicked thoughts dismay you, nor 
 vain, artful words bewitch you. Hast thou not a 
 part in heavenly mercies ? Why should you, chosen 
 to perform a glorious deed, by highest heaven, des- 
 pair ? Where ever there is justice, there grace will be 
 given ; the grace which quenches the fire enkindled 
 by guilt, and effaces the dreadful hand-writing from 
 the wall. Arise, sir knight, arise, and leave this place 
 of crime and horror.' 
 
 He obeyed this imperative call to duty, and rose 
 up instantly, remounted his horse, and left the re- 
 gion of Despair. When the carle beheld his guest 
 depart in safety, in despite of all his art, he resolved 
 to hang himself, and seized a halter for that purpose. 
 He had tried to do this, a thousand times before ; 
 but death would not come to aid his unblest, unbid- 
 en attempts. He could not die, till he should die his 
 last — that is, eternally. 
 

CHAPTER X. 
 
 Her faithful knight fair Una brings 
 
 To house of holinesse ; 
 Where he is taught repentance, and 
 
 The way to heavenly bliss. 
 
 By that which lately happened, Una saw that her 
 knight was feeble and faint, through his long impris- 
 onment ; and that he was unfit to struggle against 
 spiritual foes ; and, therefore, she proposed that he 
 should visit a retreat, where he would have generous 
 food, and leisure to recruit his strength. There was 
 an ancient house, not far distant, which was renown- 
 ed throughout the world, not for its splendor, but for 
 the sacred lore, and the unspotted life of her who 
 governed and guided it. She was a wise and grave 
 matron, and her only joy was to instruct the ignorant, 
 relieve the wretched, and help the poor. She spent 
 her nights in prayer, and her days in doing good. 
 She was called Coelia, and was thought to have 
 come from heaven, or to rise thither. She had three 
 daughters, well brought up. The two eldest, sober, 
 chaste and wise, were unwedded, though betrothed. 
 They were named Fidelia and Speranza. Charissa, 
 
142 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 the youngest, was married to a lovely fere, and had 
 three children. 
 
 When Una and the knight arrived at this remarka- 
 ble he use, the door was locked, for as they had many 
 foes, they were obliged to keep the door with great 
 care, night and day ; but as soon as they knocked, 
 the porter admitted them. He was an aged man, 
 with a hoary head, and with looks bent downward. 
 His gait was slow, and his step feeble. He was 
 called Humility. The entrance to the house was 
 very low and narrow, and they had to stoop low to 
 get in ; but when once in, they found the court spa- 
 cious, and exceedingly pleasant. The first person 
 they met, was a franklin, whose manners were cour- 
 teous, cheerful and free. He laboured hard in the 
 cause of Holiness, and gladly guided all, who enter- 
 ed the court till they reached the hall. This person's 
 name was Zeal. When they reached the hall, they 
 were received by a gentleman of mild demeanour, in 
 a clean and becoming dress of dark cloth, who per- 
 fectly understood how to receive people of all ranks. 
 His name was Reverence, and though he used fair 
 and respectful entreaties, all he said was true, un- 
 feigned and sweet. He led the knight and Una to 
 his lady, who was very aged, and always busy telling 
 her beads. She rose with matronly grace to receive 
 her guests, and as she knew that Una sprung from 
 heavenly race, her heart was rejoiced and comforted 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 143 
 
 to see her, and, embracing her, she spake thus : i O 
 happy earth, on which thine innocent feet tread ! 
 Most virtuous maiden, who hast come to redeem thy 
 woful parents from the rage of tyrants ; and who hast 
 long traveled through a rugged world to benefit our 
 race ; what grace has guided thy feet hither ? And 
 strange it is to see an errant knight here. Very few 
 choose this narrow way, or seek the right : but hurry 
 on in the broad highway, prefering to risk life and 
 happiness with the many, to coming here with the 
 few. O foolish men ! why will they rush on certain 
 ruin and decay ? * 
 
 * I came hither,' replied Una, * to see you, sage ma- 
 tron, and to rest my tired limbs ; and this good knight 
 has come with me, because he has heard your praises 
 so spread abroad, even to heaven.' 
 
 The aged dame then greeted the knight modestly, 
 and entertained them both with all the courtesies she 
 could devise. As the three were conversing on sun- 
 dry affairs, the two eldest daughters entered, locked 
 arm in arm, in all the loveliness of sisterly affection. 
 They walked exactly alike. Fidelia was arrayed in 
 lily white, while sunny beams played over her trans- 
 parent face, and threw around her head a light, like 
 that from heaven. She bore, in her right hand, a 
 cup of gold, filled with wine and water, in which a 
 serpent had enfolded himself. It filled those that 
 looked upon the cup, with horror, but she looked 
 
144 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 upon it with composure. In her other hand, she held 
 a book, signed and sealed with blood, in which were 
 written many things, that people could not easily un- 
 derstand. Speranza was dressed in blue, which 
 became her wonderfully. See did not seem so 
 cheerful as her sister. Whether dread or anguish 
 dwelt in her heart, it was hard to tell. She had with 
 her a silver anchor, upon which she almost always 
 leaned. Her eyes were raised steadfastly to heaven, 
 as if in prayer. The two fair creatures were rejoiced 
 to see Una, and received the knight with modest 
 courtesy. 
 
 Soon they all began to converse on subjects befit- 
 ing virtuous and enlightened women ; and the 
 knight bore a part in the conversation, with a pro- 
 priety and refinement, suited to his high rank, and 
 his important office in the service of Gloriana. 
 Una inquired for the younger sister, Charissa, and 
 was told that she was not well enough to leave her 
 room ; for that an infant son was added to her family. 
 At length the aged Ccelia recommended that the 
 weary travelers should retire for the night ; and 
 called the groom of her chambers, to show the 
 knight to his room. Obedience, for that was his 
 name, immediately attended ; and conducting him to 
 a most comfortable lodging, took off his armour, 
 and respectfully left him to repose. 
 
 The next day, Una requested Fidelia, who was an 
 
OR HOLINESS. 1 45 
 
 instructress in all heavenly truths, to receive her 
 knight as her pupil, that he might hear the wisdom 
 of her divine words, be taught celestial discipline, 
 and receive more light into his benighted mind. 
 Fidelia granted her request, and communicated to 
 the knight the contents of her sacred book. She 
 taught him many things, that man could not have 
 learned without this holy volume ; such as the char- 
 acter of God, his grace, his justice, the free agency 
 of man, and all that it concerns us to know of this 
 world, or that which is to come. When Fidelia ex- 
 erted the full power of her mighty energies, she 
 could make the sun stand still, or turn back his 
 course in heaven. Sometimes she could carry hosts 
 of men, dry shod, across the parted floods, and move 
 mountains from their native seat, and plunge them 
 into the roaring ocean. 
 
 The searching and soul-stirring truths made known 
 to the knight by Fidelia, the guilt she discovered to 
 him, and the crimes she set in array before his awa- 
 kened conscience, almost drove him to despair; but 
 the wise and gentle Speranza gave him comfort. 
 She taught him how to take assured hold upon her 
 silver anchor, and thus enabled him to support the 
 sight of his own naked heart ; but notwithstanding 
 all the efforts of the gentle Speranza, the knight was 
 so distressed, that Una became alarmed, and applied 
 to Ccelia for her advice respecting him. 
 13 
 
146 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 She, well understanding his case, for she had seen 
 many laboring under the horrors of awakened con- 
 science, said she would send to him a physician, 
 named Patience, who would apply salves, and admin- 
 ister medicines, that would mitigate his sufferings, 
 and give him strength to bear his pains with fortitude. 
 In effecting his entire cure, the physician had to 
 use means very severe, for the cause of his anguish 
 was an inward corruption, and the lady Una often 
 tore her hair with agony, at witnessing the pangs he 
 had to endure. Patience, however, carried him safe- 
 ly through ; assisted by Repentance, who bathed him 
 in salt water, healing and cleansing his lacerated 
 body, and restoring health and vigour to his limbs. 
 
 When Una received her knight, restored to youth- 
 ful beauty, from the hands of these kind physicians, 
 her joy was unspeakable, and she begged him to lay 
 aside consuming thought, and walk abroad into the 
 fresh air of heaven, to enjoy all the bliss of a cured 
 conscience. She also intreated him to visit with her, 
 the beautiful Charissa, whose grace and brilliant 
 charms were scarcely equalled on earth ; and who 
 was chaste and modest beyond compare. He yielded 
 to her guidance, and they sought the lovely being. A 
 multitude of lovely babes hung about her, sporting in 
 happy infancy ; these she nourished at her breast, 
 till they were grown, and then sent them forth, to 
 study and act their parts, in works of benevolence 
 
OR HOLINESS. 147 
 
 and love. She was seated in an ivory chair ; her 
 dress was royal and magnificent ; she wore a tiara of 
 gold upon her head, adorned with gems of immense 
 value ; and, by her side, sate two gentle turtle doves. 
 Una and the knight greeted her courteously, and 
 wished for blessings on her and her lovely children. 
 Una then prefered her request, begging Charissa to 
 instruct her knight in love and righteousness, and to 
 bid him shun wrath and hatred. Charissa gladly 
 consented ; and after fulfilling, faithfully, her task, 
 she taught him, besides, how to find the path that 
 leads to heaven. To guide him in safety in this 
 path, she gave him for a companion, a sober matron, 
 named Mercy ; gracious and liberal she was always 
 known to be, to all whom she took under her gui- 
 dance, and whom she ever saved at last. Whenever 
 his feet were encumbered by the thorns and briars of 
 the way, or he began to shrink, or to stray from the 
 right path, she would support and lead him as a care- 
 ful nurse would support and lead a child entrusted 
 to her care. 
 
 In the course of his travels with this gentle guide, 
 she brought him to an hospital in which seven holy 
 men resided. Their gates were always open to the 
 weary wayfaring stranger, and they kept one always 
 at the gate, to invite in the poor and needy. The 
 eldest of these men, was governor of the hospital, 
 and superintended all the under officers of the estab- 
 
148 
 
 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 lishment, seeing that strangers were properly enter- 
 tained, and those that were poorest, and unable to 
 return his hospitality, he feasted with redoubled 
 kindness and generosity ; for he considered it a 
 duty to feed those whom God had left poor, that the 
 rich might, by doing good to them, exercise the 
 noblest virtues, disinterestedness and humanity. 
 
 The next oldest of these men, the governor ap- 
 pointed to feed the hungry poor, and to give them 
 drink, and he was called upon to do this out of his 
 own income ; but he was so benevolent that he had 
 no wish to hoard up money ; he was not afraid that 
 God would leave him to starve ; and if by His grace 
 he was prevented from wasting the riches He had 
 bestowed upon him, he felt sure that his children 
 would be cared for by their Almighty Father, even 
 as he and they did their duty. He had enough, and 
 even if he had had less, he would have given some 
 to the poor. 
 
 The third of these men had charge of the ward- 
 robe ; in which were no useless garments, no finery 
 unmeet for their rank, but clean and decent gar- 
 ments, from which he daily clothed those who were 
 naked. He could not see the images of God, cold 
 and naked ; and if no clothes remained in the ward- 
 robe, he would give his own coat. 
 
 The duty of the fourth, was to relieve prisoners, 
 and redeem captives taken by Turks and Saracens. 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 149 
 
 If they were faulty, he remembered that God forgave 
 him, every hour, and perhaps for more than that for 
 which they were held captive, and that in His great 
 mercy, He was continually winning the guilty to 
 virtue and to heaven. 
 
 The fifth of these holy men attended the sick and 
 dying, giving comfort, support, and instruction, in the 
 hour of trial. He knew that as the tree falls, so it 
 must lie, and he strove to impress the lessons of wis- 
 dom, when the heart was humbled before its God, by 
 pain and sickness. 
 
 It became the duty of the sixth of this brotherhood, 
 to take charge of the dead, to see that they were de- 
 cently intered ; for he considered it a sin to deface 
 the wondrous work of God ; and thought it a duty, 
 that the face which He had made all beasts to fear, 
 should be honored, even in death. 
 
 The seventh was the friend and guide of tender 
 orphans and desolate widows. He was fearless in 
 their cause, dreading not the power of mighty men> 
 but pleading, in the face of judgment, for their rights. 
 Gold could not bribe him to do them wrong; 
 and when they were poor and required aid, he gave 
 them freely from his own Coffers. 
 
 Charissa and Mercy were founders and patroness- 
 es of this hospital ; therefore, when the knight ap* 
 proached, under the care of Mercy, the governor 
 gave them cordial welcome, and the best entertain* 
 13 * 
 
150 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 ment was prepared for them. While Mercy remain- 
 ed here with the knight, she gave him so much in- 
 struction, in the great duties of alms-giving and char- 
 ity, that he was able to form a perfect system, that 
 required no alteration during his life. 
 
 When they left the hospital, they ascended a very 
 steep and high hill, on the top of which was an her- 
 mitage. A holy man, named Contemplation, lived 
 there ; and his whole business was to meditate on 
 God and goodness. This aged man had nearly lost 
 his eye sight, but he was filled with heavenly grace, 
 so that his spirit with an eagle eye, could look upon 
 the sun ; and even saw, in vision, the most high God. 
 His snowy locks flowed over his aged shoulders, like 
 hoar-frost bespangling the branches of an half dead 
 oak ; he was extremely thin, for his mind was so in- 
 tent on spiritual food, that he forgot the wants of his 
 body. At the approach of Mercy and the Red Cross 
 Knight, the old man was troubled, for he did not 
 like to have his contemplations interrupted ; but he 
 had such deep veneration for Mercy, that he re- 
 ceived their respectful salutations with profound 
 respect, and courteously inquired why they had 
 climbed that tedious height ? 
 
 ' Is not this the only way to heaven,' said Mercy, 
 $nd can we reach that glorious world, always bright 
 with burning stars and living fire, by any aid but 
 yours ? Fidelia has entrusted you with the keys of 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 151 
 
 that eternal world, and commands you to unlock, and 
 shew it to this knight.' 
 
 * Thrice happy man,' said the grave father, ' that 
 has thee for a guide ! Who can better show him 
 the way to heaven than thou ; thou who wast born 
 and bred in heaven, where thousands of angels shine 
 in ever-during lustre ? It is thou, who presentest, 
 before the divine majesty of heaven, the praises of 
 the righteous, and pleadest for clemency towards of- 
 fending man. Yes, since thou commandest, I will 
 obey. Come, thou man of earth, and see the way, 
 never before seen, by faerie's son ; a way, that will 
 never lead you wrong ; but after long labours and 
 delays, will bring you to joyous rest and endless 
 bliss ; but first you must fast and pray, that your 
 spirit may be purified and strengthened for the sight. 
 
 After that duty was performed, the old man led 
 him to a lofty mountain, high as Sinai, whereon 
 Moses received the law from the hand of God ; or as 
 that, adorned with fruitful olives, where our blessed 
 Lord was so often found ; or as Parnassus, on which 
 the Muses tune their heavenly notes, and make 
 many lovely lays. Thence he bade him look along 
 a steep and narrow path, to where a goodly city rose 
 in the distance. The strong towers and high walls 
 were of pearl and precious stones, which no human 
 tongue could describe. It was the city of the great 
 king, in which dwelt eternal peace and happiness. 
 
1 
 
 152 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 Angels were seen, ascending and descending, and 
 passing to and fro within the walls. The knight 
 was astonished, and began to inquire what stately 
 buildings dared extend their towers to the starry- 
 heaven, and what unknown nation had peopled so 
 wondrous a place ? 
 
 ' Fair knight,' replied his guide, ' that is the New 
 Jerusalem, which God has built for his chosen peo- 
 ple to dwell in ; and all whom the lamb of God has 
 redeemed, will dwell there.' 
 
 ' Till now,' said the knight, i I believed that Cleo- 
 polis, the city of the Faerie Queen, was the brightest 
 thing on earth ; but now I have proof, that towers of 
 chrystal, cannot compare with the diamonds, whereof 
 the angels' towers are built. This great city surpass- 
 es all that mortal eye hath seen.* 
 
 * Most true,' replied Contemplation, ' yet, for an 
 earthly city, Cleopolis is the fairest that eye of man 
 has seen. Its queen is heavenly-born, and every 
 true knight, that would be enrolled in the book of 
 immortal fame, must do service to that sovereign 
 princess. And remember, sir knight, that you, 
 though accounted the son of a faerie, are of English 
 race, and are well worthy to render her service, by 
 aiding this forlorn and desolate maiden, in liberating 
 her parents from unjust bondage. But when this 
 victory is won, hang up your shield and thenceforth 
 shun all conquests ; for to shed blood is always a sin, 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 153 
 
 and wars yield only sorrow. Then seek this path, 
 which will lead to heaven. Go on to the New Jeru- 
 salem, a blessed end awaits you there ; for among 
 those saints which you see there, you are to be num- 
 bered, — your own nation's friend and patron, St. 
 George of merry England.' 
 
 ' What,' replied the knight, ' I, an unworthy wretch ? 
 Can such grace be reserved for me ? How dare I 
 hope to attain this glory !' 
 
 i Those that have attained it,' said his guide, ' were 
 in the same case as you have been ; they were as 
 wretched, and endured as much pain.' 
 
 * But,' inquired the knight, i must I give up deeds 
 of arms, and the love of fair ladies ? ' 
 
 ' What need will you have of arms,' said the old 
 man, ' where eternal peace reigns, where no battles 
 are to be fought ; and as for unholy loves — O ! they 
 are worse than vain, and vanish into nothing.' 
 
 ' Why, then,' said the knight, ' should I return back 
 to the world ? let me remain here, and pass directly 
 to that heavenly city.' 
 
 ' That may not be,' replied Contemplation ; i you 
 must not forget the cause of that royal maiden, whom 
 you have promised to defend, and whose foe you 
 have engaged to destroy. We must not leave the 
 path of duty, if we wish to find the path to heaven.' 
 
 ' Then,' said the knight, ' if God gives me grace, 
 I will soon redeem my pledge to that disconsolate 
 

 154 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE. 
 
 lady, and return a pilgrim to this place. Now tell 
 me, holy father, why you said I was born of English 
 blood, when all men call me the son of a faerie.' 
 
 < Thou didst spring,' he replied, < from the race of 
 Saxon kings. 37 During the terrible battles, which 
 established thy throne in Britain, thou wast stolen 
 by a faerie from thy cradle, in which she placed one 
 of her base elfin brood. She brought you to faerie 
 land, and hid you in a field. A ploughman who 
 was toiling with his plough, found you, and reared 
 you as a ploughman's son, giving you the name of 
 George. But your native pride and courage began 
 soon to appear, and you presented yourself at the 
 court of Gloriana to seek for fame, and prove your 
 arms in all that befits a warlike knight.' 
 
 1 Thanks to thee, holy sire,' said the knight, ' how 
 shall I repay thee for all thy favours. Thou hast 
 told me my name and nation ; and taught me the 
 way to heaven.' 
 
 He then turned, intending to go down the hill 
 again, to where he had left Una ; but his eyes were 
 so dazzled by the glories upon which he had been 
 gazing, that he was quite confounded, and his feeble 
 senses almost forsook him. His eyes could discern 
 nothing upon the earth, as he looked down; so 
 dark are the things of this world, compared to those 
 of heaven. 
 
 In time, however, his eye became accustomed to 
 
OR HOLINESS. 155 
 
 the objects around him, and he returned to Una, 
 giving to the good old man, who had done so much 
 for him, both thanks and reward. Una received 
 him joyfully and urged his attention to the promise he 
 had made her. After a few hours rest, they took leave 
 of Ccelia and her daughters, and set forth on their 
 journey. 
 

CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The knight with that old dragon rights 
 
 Two days incessantly; 
 The third, him overthrows, and gains 
 
 Most glorious victory. 
 
 It was now full time for the fair Una to think 
 only of her captive parents, and their ruined kingdom. 
 And when they drew near to her own territories, she 
 modestly addressed the knight. 'My dear lord, as 
 dear as ever knight was dear, may high heaven behold 
 the toil you endure for my sake ! We have now 
 reached my native soil, and the place, where all our 
 perils dwell. These are the haunts of the fiend. 
 Be on your guard ; awaken the spark of noble courage ; 
 and strive to excel your excellent self, and be more 
 renowned than any knight that does battle on earth. 
 Yonder is the brazen tower, in which my parents are 
 imprisoned. I see them now, even at this distance, 
 on the walls. And on the top of the tower I see a 
 watchman, anxiously looking out to see if I am 
 bringing you to their rielief. ' 
 
 As she spoke, they heard a hideous roaring, that 
 filled the air with terror, and shook the ground ; and 
 14 
 
158 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 immediately, the dreadful dragon appeared in view 
 He was stretched upon the sunny side of a huge hill, 
 and appeared himself like another hill. The monster 
 was roused by the knight's arms, glistening with light 
 from heaven, and he rushed upon him, as soon as he 
 had placed Una in safety, on a neighbouring hill. 
 
 And now, O sacred muse, fair child of Phoebus, 
 nurse of time and of everlasting fame, that ennobles 
 warriors with immortality, O, come into my breast ; 
 but come gently. Not with the mighty rage where- 
 with you rouse armies to mortal combat, enraging 
 heroes, so that nothing on earth can assuage their 
 kindled courage ; not with the fierce fire with which 
 you rouse the god of War, and fill whole nations with 
 stern horror. Fair goddess, lay aside such fury, till 
 I sing of wars, that will die the fields of Britain with 
 the blood of Saracens ; wars between the great faerie 
 queene and the pagan king, which will be a work 
 worthy of all praise. Let down, for a while, thy 
 haughty string to humbler tunes, while I sing the feats 
 of a godly man, in the cause of truth and holiness. 
 
 The terrible dragon drew near to the noble knight, 
 half flying, and half on foot, so eager was his haste. 
 He was so large, that he looked like a mountain shad- 
 owing the land, and reared his monstrous body, as high 
 as its vast size, swollen with wrath and poison, would 
 permit. His scales looked like brass, and were so 
 compact that it appeared no mortal blade could pierce 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 359 
 
 them. These scales, he raised as an eagle does its 
 plumes, when about to pounce upon its prey ; and 
 they clashed like steel armour. It was horrible to 
 hear their sound. And when he displayed his 
 enormous wings, like the sails of a ship, that had 
 power to bear him through the air with a rapidity 
 which caused the heavens to stand still, amazed at 
 his power and vastness, it seemed as if no human 
 strength could cope with so unequal a foe. Nor was 
 this all, for his tail, three furlongs in length, was armed 
 with deadly stings ; his claws were of unheard-of 
 strength ; his eyes like burning coals ; and his devour- 
 ing jaws gaped, like the gates of the infernal world, 
 and showed his iron teeth. 
 
 The Red Cross Knight trembled as he drew near; 
 but instantly couched his lance, and ran upon him 
 with exceeding force. The monster's hide, how- 
 ever, was impenetrable ; and more enraged by so pow- 
 erful a blow, he dashed man and horse to the ground 
 by one brush of his tail. But horse and man were 
 up again on the instant; and the knight struck 
 another blow ; which proved as useless as the first. 
 The beast felt that he struck with a force superior 
 to any one who had ever attacked him ; and spread- 
 ing his vast wings, he rose upon the yielding air, 
 soaring around ; then he suddenly stooped low, and 
 snatched up horse and man, in his enormous talons. 
 He bore them to a great distance, but they struggled 
 
160 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 violently, and he was obliged to let them drop ; and 
 the knight once more tried his thrillant spear, giving 
 to the stroke the strength of three men ; and this 
 time he wounded the creature close under his left 
 wing. He cried, loud as raging seas are wont to 
 roar, when the storms of winter threaten the mighty 
 ocean, and bear its billows against some rock bound 
 coast; or all the blustering brethren of the sky 
 seem determined to move the world from off its 
 hinges. The steel head of the lance remained stick- 
 ing in the wound, till the dragon tore it thence with 
 his own claws, and a river of black blood rushed 
 forth, that would turn a water mill, and floated the 
 ground on which he stood. This trebly augmented 
 his fury, and he wound his hideous tail so tightly 
 around the knight's horse, that the noble creature, 
 in striving to extricate himself, threw his rider. St. 
 George sprang up instantly, indignant at having so 
 disgracefully fallen in a place so drenched in the 
 monster's blood ; and after a long and terrible con- 
 flict, in which, faint, weary, sore, grieved, and burnt 
 with heat, he many times longed for death to ease 
 his anguish, the dragon again struck him to the 
 earth with his tremendous tail. 
 
 It happened that behind the knight, there was a 
 remarkable well, which from ancient times sprung 
 here, and trickled forth like a silver flood, full of 
 great and medicinal virtues ; and, before the dragon 
 
OR HOLINESS. 161 
 
 infested the place and defiled its sacred wave with 
 innocent blood, it was called the well of life. It 
 even now retained some of its former virtues ; for it 
 could restore the dead to life, and wash from the 
 guilty their blackest crimes. It could restore health 
 to the diseased, and make the aged and infirm, even 
 as one new-born. No river, ancient or modern, 
 equalled this, and when the dragon beat to the 
 earth our good knight, he fell into its healing streams. 
 Golden Phoebus now began to bathe his fiery face 
 in the billows of the west, and to water in the deep 
 ocean his fainting steeds ; and the infernal monster, 
 seeing that the knight had fallen into the well, erect- 
 ed his discoloured breast above his wonted pitch, 
 and clapped his huge wings in triumph. 
 
 Una saw from her distant hill this triumphant 
 movement of the dragon, and feared that her lover 
 was destroyed. She prayed fervently to God for 
 support, and that he would preserve her from so 
 great misfortune. With bended knees and folded 
 hands she watched and prayed all that long night. 
 As soon as the day dawned, she rose from her place, 
 to see if she could behold her beloved knight ; for 
 whose safety she had greatly feared, ever since she 
 saw him fall before the dragon. At last, to her 
 unspeakable joy, she saw him start up from the well, 
 fresh as an eagle out of the ocean wave ; or like a 
 eyas-hawk, who mounts to the sky, to try his newly 
 14* 
 
162 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 budded pinions, and marvel at himself; so now, this 
 new-born knight arose to renew the battle. 
 
 The dragon was astonished, and doubted whether 
 it was his late enemy, or some one who had taken 
 his place. The knight, however, left him no time 
 for conjecture, but struck him so powerfully upon 
 his head, that it was laid open to the scull, and he 
 was stunned for a time. I know not whether the 
 steel was hardened with the holy water, or whether 
 his arm and hand were strengthened by the virtues 
 of the sacred waves; but it is certain that no mortal 
 arm or blade could ever before wound this terrible 
 beast, nor could he be charmed by any subtlety of 
 magic power. Agonized by pain, and enraged at 
 the man who had dared inflict the wound, he roared 
 terrifically, and with strokes of his fearful tail, threw 
 down trees, and beat to pieces the surrounding 
 rocks. 
 
 It is needless to relate all the horrors of this dreadful 
 conflict, in which the beast called to his aid the 
 assistance of flauie, and the suffocating fumes of 
 brimstone, which so overpowered the knight, that 
 he recoiled backward, and finally fell prone upon 
 the slippery, blood drenched earth. It chanced that 
 a goodly tree grew near the spot, loaded with deli- 
 cious fruit, which possessed great virtues. It gave 
 everlasting life to all who fed upon it. God had 
 planted the tree, with his own almighty hand, and 
 
OR HOLINESS. 163 
 
 called it the tree of life. Near to it stood another 
 tree, the fruit of which imparted a knowledge of 
 good and ill to all who eat of it. Oh mournful 
 memory ! One man by eating it brought death upon 
 all mankind. Till the entrance of this dragon, all 
 good things grew spontaneously in this land, as 
 uncorrupted nature planted them; and still, from 
 the tree of life, a stream of balm flowed continually, 
 so that the plain looked as if bathed in fresh dew. 
 Into this stream the knight fell ; and it saved him 
 from death, healing all his wounds and renewing 
 his strength. The beast dared not approach this 
 stream ; for he was made to die, and hated every 
 thing that gave immortal life. 
 
 Day light now began to fade, and yield his room 
 to sad succeeding night, who began to hang high 
 her torch in heaven. Una saw the knight fall; 
 weary, and faint from loss of blood. He lay, as in a 
 dream of deep delight, covered with the precious 
 balm ; but she, who did not know of this, was again 
 alarmed for his safety ; and watched, and prayed 
 the whole of that noisome night. The day appeared 
 early ; and fair Aurora began to raise herself from 
 the dewy bed of Tithones, with cheeks blushing 
 rosy red. Her golden locks hung loosely about her 
 face, when Una saw her ascend her chariot, covered 
 with flowers, to chase darkness from the face of 
 heaven, and listen to the merry salute of the mount- 
 
164 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 
 ing lark. The knight, too, rose up fresh ; and healed 
 of all his hurts. When the dragon beheld him 
 again, risen as it were from death ; he began to fear 
 for his own safety; but still his unbounded rage 
 urged him to attempt his destruction at once, and it 
 was now his hope to swallow him. Opening his 
 jaws, therefore, to their widest extent, he sprang 
 fiercely upon the knight, who being prepared for 
 the attack, stepped suddenly back ; and, taking ad- 
 vantage of the open mouth, plunged his sword into 
 the dark cavern, and drew back the blade with the 
 dragon's life-blood. 
 
 He fell ; the earth groaned beneath him. He fell, 
 like a huge rock, whose foundations have been swept 
 away; with a mighty flood, that brought the enor- 
 mous mass, at once^into the boiling ocean. 
 
 The knight himself trembled at his fall, so huge 
 and horrible a mass it seemed^ and Una who beheld 
 the scene from afar, dared not approach ; but when 
 after much time, she saw that the fiend did not stir, 
 she drew nigh ; praised God for his goodness, and 
 thanked her faithful knight, who had achieved for 
 her, this mighty conquest. 38 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Fair Una to the Red Cross Knight 
 
 Betrothed is with joy ; 
 Though false Duessa it to barre 
 
 Her false slights doth employ. 
 
 I see the haven is nigh at hand, to which I mean 
 to bend my course, where the fair Una will be safely 
 landed after the storms and dangers she has encoun- 
 tered. Phoebus had hardly harnessed his fiery footed 
 coursers, in the glooming east, nor had yet reared 
 his flaming crest above the earth, before the watch- 
 man on the castle tower saw the monstrous dragon 
 expiring. He called loudly to his lord and lady, 
 and told the joyful event. They rose in haste, and 
 with feeble speed, the aged king hastened to the 
 battlements, to see if indeed it could be true. When 
 he was sure that the dreaded beast was dead, he 
 ordered his brazen # gates to be thrown wide open, 
 and proclaimed peace and joy throughout the land. 
 Trumpets were sounded, and heaven re-echoed the 
 note of victory. The people assembled in solemn 
 feast ; and in full concert, rejoiced at the fall of the 
 great dragon, who had so long held them in oppres- 
 sive bondage. 
 
166 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 The aged king and queen then arrayed themselves 
 in antique robes, that swept the ground ; and a noble 
 court of sage and sober lords and ladies, clad in like 
 flowing robes, attended on their persons. Around 
 the hall of state were ranged tall young men, able 
 to bear arms ; but now holding branches of laurel 
 in sign of victory and peace. These distinguished 
 people went forth in a body, to greet the knight. 
 They prostrated themselves before him, and pro- 
 claimed him their lord and patron. To them suc- 
 ceeded a chorus of beautiful maidens, decked with 
 garlands of fresh flowers, and holding high their 
 timbrels in their hands. Then came the sportive 
 children. The maidens sung and played in most 
 joyous measures, till they came where the royal Una 
 stood, fair as Diana among her gay and sporting 
 nymphs. She smiled with great sweetness, when 
 the lovely band approached her and knelt with 
 humility at her feet. They sang her praises, as if 
 they would raise her to heaven in everlasting fame ; 
 and forming a crown of laurel leaves, placed it on 
 her head. She indeed looked like what she was, a 
 lovely maiden queen. 
 
 The multitude began to assemble from all the 
 surrounding country, in rude joy, to gaze upon the 
 wonderful man, who had achieved such a victory. 
 They admired him as one sent from heaven, and 
 gazed upon him with gaping wonder. When they 
 
OR HOLINESS. 167 
 
 came near to the spot on which the dragon lay 
 extended, they feared and trembled, though he was 
 dead, and did not dare to approach or touch him. 
 Some fled in terror. Others advised those near 
 them not to touch the monster, for fear some life 
 yet remained, or that some young dragonets might 
 be concealed within his enormous carcase. Another 
 said, fire yet sparkled in his eyes, and they must 
 take heed, for he certainly moved them. Mothers 
 dared not let their children touch his dead talons, 
 lest he should scratch the tender creatures. While 
 some, more courageous, approached near enough to 
 measure the monster, and to see how many acres of 
 ground he covered. 
 
 While the astonished and half fearful crowd sur- 
 rounded the body, the hoary and venerable king, 
 with his train, came towards the champion, with 
 princely gifts of ivory and gold, and thousand thanks. 
 He then folded his long absent daughter to his 
 heart, and kissed again and again this cherished 
 darling of his age. 39 
 
 The grand procession then proceeded to the pal- 
 ace, with trumpets, songs of triumph, and various 
 instruments, whose clarion notes rung loud, yet 
 sweet, over hill and mountain. The multitude 
 spread their garments on the paved streets, and led 
 on with shouts of victory to the court of the royal 
 palace, the floor of which was covered with rich 
 
168 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 cloth of costly scarlet. A bountiful entertainment 
 was soon prepared, in which every thing suitable 
 for the occasion was served in a style magnificent, 
 but plain. Excellent discourse, chaste wit, and pure 
 sentiment, distinguished the royal feast ; for, in an- 
 cient times, the world hated excess, and pride, and 
 luxurious pomp. These are evils that have swollen 
 up in modern times. 
 
 The venerable king entertained his guest by relat- 
 ing the wonderful history of his own life ; and then 
 begged to hear that of the noble knight. The request 
 was granted, and tears of real sympathy and sorrow 
 for his sufferings, bathed the cheeks of all the hearers. 
 ' My dear son,' said the royal pair, ' you have borne 
 much, and we know not whether most to pity or to 
 praise you. Surely never man was plunged in such 
 a sea of danger and distress ; but you have found 
 the shore, have arrived well : God be blest ! Now 
 let us talk of happier times, that rest, due to perse- 
 vering effort in the cause of Holiness.' 
 
 ' Ah, dearest lord,' replied the knight, ' I must not 
 yet think of ease or rest, I am bound by the laws of 
 knighthood, to return to the great Gloriana, to bear 
 arms in her service, for six years, against the pagan 
 king.' The aged monarch was much grieved to 
 hear this; but he knew that vow must be fulfilled, 
 and, after expressing his sorrow at the necessity, 
 he told him, that after the six years were expired, 
 
 
OR HOLINESS. 169 
 
 he should expect him to return to celebrate his mar- 
 riage with Una. 'I covet it much,' said the old 
 king, c for I wish to have it proclaimed to the whole 
 world, that he, who killed that fell monster should 
 have my only daughter, and be heir to my kingdom. 
 Both of which I now yield to you, with joy freely.' 
 
 The king commanded that Una should be sent 
 for ; she came at her father's bidding, with a sober 
 cheerfulness upon, her beaming brow. She looked 
 like the morning star, when it appears in the eastern 
 heaven, to bring the world its long wished for light. 
 She was so fresh and fair, that the freshest flowers 
 of May could not be more lovely. She had lain 
 aside the mournful vei], and all the widow like orna- 
 ments that she had worn in her weary journies, and 
 had arrayed herself in purest white, that looked like 
 silk and silver, yet it was not wrought of either. 
 But to describe the blazing brightness of her charms, 
 the glorious light of her sun beaming face, were 
 impossible. One might as well strive against the 
 stream, as to describe with mortal pen such heavenly 
 lineaments. Even the knight, who had for so long 
 a time been accustomed to see her daily, was aston- 
 ished at the celestial vision. She bowed in lowly 
 reverence to her father, which added a matchless 
 grace to her loveliness. 
 
 Her father, gravely, and with much wisdom had 
 began to speak, when, rushing with the speed of a 
 15 
 
170 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 man dismayed, a messenger entered the hall with 
 letters. The whole court stood amazed and won- 
 dering at his breathless haste ; for nothing could 
 check his passage till he reached the king, before 
 whom he prostrated himself, and kissed the ground. 
 He then presented the letter, which the king read ; 
 it ran as follows : 
 
 ' To the most mighty king of Eden. The daughter 
 of the great emperor of the west bids thee be advised 
 not to link thy daughter in holy wedlock to the 
 stranger knight; for he has already plighted his 
 right hand to another love, in another land. He 
 has long been affianced to me, and given and receiv- 
 ed sacred pledges ; therefore, sovereign prince, with- 
 hold your hand from knitting league with him. I 
 warn you not to presume upon my weakness, though 
 widowed and full of woe ; for truth is strong, and, 
 if she requires, will find friends. Fides s a.' 
 
 The king sat for sometime in mute astonishment. 
 At last he broke silence, and fixing a doubtful eye 
 upon his guest, said, ' Redoubted knight, Tyou have 
 for my sake adventured life and honour ; let nothing 
 be hid from me that ought to be expressed. What 
 is meant by this letter ? To whom are you pledged ? 
 If, sir knight, you are faulty, if you have wrapped 
 yourself in love, for some former dame, do not cover 
 it with crime, disclose all.' 
 
OR HOLINESS. 171 
 
 The Red Cross Knight replied, 'My lord, my 
 king, do not be dismayed at what this woman 
 writes. It was my misfortune, that, during my wan- 
 derings, this false woman, who calls herself Fidessa, 
 though Duessa is her real name, found me. She 
 was royally arrayed, and with a skill that no earthly 
 power could withstand, betrayed me, when I least 
 suspected evil. 
 
 Una, now advanced to the throne, and prostrat- 
 ing herself before her father, said to him, ' O pardon 
 me, my sovereign, if I undertake to show the secret 
 treasons wrought by that false sorceress. It was 
 she, who threw this gentle knight into such distress, 
 that death seemed his only relief ; and now she has 
 suborned this crafty messenger to work more woe, 
 by breaking the band that unites us twain. This 
 false footman, is no other than Archimago, the falsest 
 man alive ; examine him and see.' 
 
 Her father was greatly moved, and commanded 
 his officers to seize and bind the messenger, who 
 became like a chained bear, struggling and roaring 
 to be freed. But they forced him into a deep dun- 
 geon and bound him hand and foot with iron chains ; 
 and set a constant guard to watch him, lest he should 
 by some art, escape the death he deserved. 
 
 This done, the king went forward with the mar- 
 riage contract, and his daughter and the knight were 
 united with sacred vows and rites. In accordance 
 
172 LEGEND OF ST. GEORGE, 
 
 with the manners of that age^ the king himself tied 
 the holy knot, which joined the lovers ; sprinkled on 
 the household fire the holy water ; and placed, in a 
 secret chamber, the sacred lamp, where it burnt day 
 and night to ward off evil fates. His attendants then 
 sprinkled wine upon all the door-posts, and prepared 
 a solemn marriage feast, all the guests perfuming 
 themselves with frankincense and other precious 
 odors ; and music and song added joy and gaiety to 
 the entertainment. During the festivities, the com- 
 pany were suddenly surprised by a burst of rich and 
 heavenly harmony, that seemed to be the voice of 
 angels, singing before the eternal Majesty. No one 
 knew whence it came, but all were ravished and al- 
 most bereft of sense by such unwonted melody and 
 power of sound. 
 
 Nor did the royal pair, or the bride and bridegroom 
 confine the joy to the precincts of the palace. Orders 
 were given that old and young should have liberty to 
 join in feast and dance throughout the kingdom, and 
 rejoice at the happy marriage of their lovely princess. 
 After enjoying, for many weeks, the delightful socie- 
 ty of his matchless lady, and realizing the happiness, 
 of having, through much toil and suffering to himself, 
 destroyed a monster, that had long been the terror 
 and destruction of thousands, and the spoiler of the 
 fairest country on earth, St. George resolved to per- 
 form his promise to the faerie queen, to whom he had 
 
OR HOLINESS. 173 
 
 engaged to return, when the dragon was destroyed. 
 So, making his intentions known to the king and 
 queen, and taking a tender leave of his beautiful 
 bride, he left her mourning, and returned to Glo- 
 riana's court. 40 
 
APPENDIX. 
 

APPENDIX 
 
 OF NOTES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1. Does not the Sense of honor and moral obligation 
 feel like an Oath sworn by the Soul before its date of 
 memory ? And is that deeply engraven oath ever 
 found to be any thing less, than to destroy the evils 
 which lay waste the spirit of man, both within our- 
 / selves, and without, on the arena of social life ? 
 / 2. This armour is as old as our era. Vide St. Paul, 
 passim. 
 
 3. When is the strong and lofty tempered Will of youth 
 seen so beautiful, as when it yields to the strict re- 
 straining hand of a stern Self respect ? 
 
 4. Who but the Christian knight may restore Truth to 
 / her native Paradise, and wed her for his everlasting 
 
 bride ? 
 
 5. Shall true glory never live nearer to us than the 
 Faerie Land of Imagination ? Then let us all go 
 thither, and receive her commands. 
 
 - 6. Is the Dwarf — prudence ? He must needs be some 
 intellectual drudge, but he does good service. 
 7* Is not this Wandering Wood, the shaded land of 
 Study ; where all the various faculties of intellect 
 flourish, each for itself, and without general aim or 
 purpose ? Here, indeed, the beaten path leads ever 
 to the cave of Error ! 
 
 / 
 
176 APPENDIX. 
 
 8. With the voice of Truth to inspire, from whose love 
 the young heart has never swerved, the young spirit 
 shall surely not be overcome by Error. 
 
 9. When the Principle is conquered, the offspring errors, 
 lose their power to harm, though they will annoy, till 
 their parent is absolutely destroyed, which consumma- 
 tion they will not long survive, for they feed on noth- 
 ing but her life. 
 
 10. So self-subsistent is the principle of Holiness, that 
 it would be true to itself, even though Truth's beloved 
 form, should counsel it to stoop below its own spiritual 
 instincts. The soul does not wait upon the intellect, 
 for its principle of purity. It has its own independent 
 moral sensibility. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 11. Alas ! for the holy hearted ! that they are not exempt 
 from hasty judgment ! So is Truth deserted, because . 
 Hypocrisy says she is false. 
 
 12. There is a Prudence that waits upon Passion, at least 
 for a time. 
 
 13. God deserts not his wayward son, but follows him 
 with his truth in all his wanderings. But it is long 
 before the gentle and quiet spirit may overtake the 
 angry heart of indignant youth ! 
 
 14. Does not Duessa embody the externals of the Church 
 of Rome ; found, at first, in the company of Paganism, 
 and too soon and unsuspiciously adopted by the 
 Christian Church — whom it led — oh whither ? 
 
 15. "Be thou as pure as ice, as chaste as snow 
 Thou shalt not escape calumny." 
 
 
APPENDIX. 177 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 16. The Brute strength of man sinks before the power of 
 woman's loveliness, and takes up her defence, as high- 
 est honor. This is still nobler than Milton's view, in 
 that exquisite passage, where Adam says of Eve, 
 
 ' c When I approach 
 Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, 
 And in herself complete, so well to know 
 Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
 Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best j 
 All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
 Degraded ; Wisdom in discourse with her 
 Loses, discountenanced, and like Folly shows. 
 Authority and reason on her wait 
 As one intended first." 
 
 But Spencer " knows not seems" Una is more than 
 Eve. Innocence and truth melt into one, to form 
 ideal woman, before whom bow the Lionhearted, in 
 the service that elevates the very quality of their 
 nature. But Truth acknowledges no lover, save em- 
 bodied Holiness. 
 
 17. Superstition is blind, and her daughter Ignorance is 
 low. Well may they receive the robber of the church 
 as son-in-law and lover ! 
 
 18. When the lion of the People wakes up to the con- 
 sciousness of his power, and has just torn in pieces 
 the night-robber of the church — well may Ignorance 
 and Superstition tremble. Their days are numbered! 
 
 19. How many hypocritical champions of Truth, are 
 < unveiled in the battle ! 
 
 20. Alas ! for Truth and Innocence, when lion hearted 
 Manliness is subdued by Lawlessness ! 
 
178 APPENDIX. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 21 . The rightful queen is Dignity. And her palace is 
 founded on a rock. 
 
 22. Alas ! that Holiness should ever so forget his nature, 
 , as to become a courtier in the House of Pride. 
 
 23. Not even when affianced to Falsehood, and in the 
 House of Pride, may Holiness quite forget himself, or 
 fail to feel disgust at her loathsome attendants, and 
 wild revelry. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 24. So is Holiness beguiled with vain glorious Pride, 
 and under her auspices fights with joylessness, and 
 does not come off unhurt. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 25. The first Falsehood in the long train of evil is not 
 easily detected. He does not yet suspect her who 
 guided him to the house of Pride. 
 
 26. When Truth had lost her christian champion, who 
 was taken to the house of Pride by the gilded false- 
 hood of Romish trappings ; and Manliness, lion heart 
 though he was, had yielded her, with his life, to 
 Lawlessness — what could she do but flee from the 
 courts of degenerate Civilization, and seek retreat 
 with the rustics of the wild woods, who in their sim- 
 plicity, worshipped without understanding her, and 
 whom she taught her heavenly lore. But who is Sa- 
 tyrane ? 
 
APPENDIX. 179 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 27. Only the seduction of Falsehood could make the 
 christian knight forget that he is out upon a great 
 adventure ; nor has any time to rest unarmed by the 
 fountains of self abandonment. 
 
 28. Does not this Italian name glance at the influence of 
 Rome in England ? St. George has not yet repented 
 of the pride of the flesh, from whose dominions he had 
 just escaped. He was therefore weak, an easy prey 
 to the pride of a spiritual hierarchy. Thus ever does 
 animal self indulgence betray man to spiritual bon- 
 dage. 
 
 ty/ 29. When Christianity entered that dungeon, Prudence 
 had departed ; who, seeking, found Truth wandering 
 alone, without her defence of the Red Cross. Well 
 might she faint, though heaven descended, when she 
 saw the armour and the courser of her champion, 
 without the living man who had wielded the one, and 
 guided the other so nobly ! 
 
 30. Is not Prince Arthur the Ideal of English character, 
 that now comes to the rescue of the enslaved Actual, 
 represented by St. George ? And Merlin's gifts, — are 
 they not the endowments of Genius; a beautiful aid 
 to the heroic friend of deserted Truth, in the recovery 
 of her Red Cross Knight, from the Italian giant's 
 dungeon ! 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 31. What means prince Arthur's esquire, and his won- 
 drous bugle ? Would he remind us that ' there's a 
 divinity in the soul of state,' and that by one blast of 
 
180 APPENDIX. 
 
 Magna Charta, the prison doors of Romish Hierarchy 
 were set open ? Then rushed gilded Falsehood forth, 
 • seated upon her seven headed beast, and all but de- 
 stroyed the state ; but then her gifted Genius saved 
 that faithful friend and servant. 
 
 32. That shield : was it the Intellectual prowess of En- 
 glish Genius ; or her still holier spirit of Martyrdom ? 
 Whether it was the one or the other, the bladder 
 blown Hierarchy fell before it, destroyed in inward 
 Principle, as well as outward form. 
 
 33. Alas ! her very spoils corrupted her conquerors ! Let 
 Falsehood's trappings ever go with Falsehood; they 
 are infected by her nature. 
 
 34. Orgoglio had made the national church his palace. 
 Ignorance had been its porter, till English genius now 
 took from him the keys. Then was St. George set at 
 liberty ; and seducing Falsehood, being displayed to 
 him in her naked deformity, the knights went in to 
 the purified sanctuary, and refreshed themselves with 
 Truth. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 35. There is hardly a more interesting Guest of philo- 
 sophic Truth, than to trace from its unknown, but 
 doubtless human origin, through its infant residence in 
 the land of imagination, and its education in arms, 
 with occasional visitations from Genius, the Ideal of 
 English Virtue. 
 
 36. No love short of Gloriana herself contents the Ideal 
 hero. She conquered his heart in a day dream, but 
 is sought on the theatre of actual life, and must be 
 wooed and wedded there. 
 
APPEND IX. 
 
 181 
 
 37. When the soul is suffering already from a sense of 
 guilt, aggravated by the sophistry of despair, it is the 
 proof of the fiend that he brings painted devils to 
 scare away the last remnant of human fortitude !- Yet 
 such fiends sometimes take the place of christian 
 shepherds. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 38. The history of the Actual English character from its 
 Saxon ancestry, is the counterpart of the philosophy 
 of the Ideal, given by prince Arthur. St. George 
 was found in a plough field, whence he drew his name, 
 and where he lived till sent to learn chivalry, from 
 whose courts he set forth, as the champion of Truth, 
 against Evil ; and won his place among the Saints, — 
 St. George of merry England. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ^/&9. So shall the christian knight ever succeed, who 
 fights for Truth, in her own cheering presence. If he 
 falls, it is into the well of Prayer, or the balm stream 
 of heavenly Meditation ; whence he rises each morn- 
 ing, refreshed, until he conquers. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 40. When Truth triumphs by the power of Holiness, 
 Paradise returns ; and the king of Eden reveals him- 
 self her parent, and folds her on his breast. 
 
 41. Wedded to Truth, and emparadised, Holiness no 
 longer fights with personal enemies ; but goes forth to 
 
182 APPENDIX. 
 
 assist his brother faerie knights, even as the Ideal Vir- 
 tue assisted him. But unlike prince Arthur, St. 
 George is peaceful at heart, in the full possession of a 
 divine and faithful wife, secured forever in the para- 
 dise regained of virtuous home. 
 
 N. B. Etymology of Names. 
 
 George, Agriculture, 
 
 Una, One, single. 
 
 Archimago, Arch magician. 
 
 Fidessa, , Faithful. 
 
 Duessa, Double minded. 
 
 Fradubio, Doubtful minded. 
 
 Fralissa, Fragile. 
 
 Malvenu, Unwelcome. 
 
 Sansfoy, Without faith. 
 
 Sansloy, Without law. 
 
 Sansjoy, Without happiness.) 
 
 Coelia, Heavenliness. 
 
 Fidelia, Faith. 
 
 Speranza, Hope. 
 
 Charissa, Charity. 
 
 
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