Certes (said he) hence shall I never rest, 280 Till I that treacherours art have heard and tride; And you Sir knight, whose name mote I request, Of grace do me unto his cabin guide. I that hight Trevisan (quoth he) will ride, Against my liking backe, to do you grace: 285 But not for gold nor glee° will I abide By you, when ye arrive in that same place For lever had I die, then see his deadly face.
Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave, 290 Farre underneath a craggie clift ypight, Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedy grave, That still for carrion carcases doth crave: On top whereof aye dwelt the ghastly Owle,° Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave 295 Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle; And all about it wandring ghostes did waile and howle.
And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene, Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees; 300 On which had many wretches hanged beene, Whose carcases were scattered on the greene, And throwne about the clifts. Arrived there, That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene, Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare, 305 But th' other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.
That darkesome cave they enter, where they find That cursed man, low sitting on the ground, Musing full sadly in his sullein mind; His griesie lockes, long growen, and unbound, 310 Disordred hong about his shoulders round, And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound; His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine, Were shronke into his jawes, as° he did never dine. 315
His garment nought but many ragged clouts, With thornes together pind and patched was, The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts; And him beside there lay upon the gras A drearie corse,° whose life away did pas, 320 All wallowed in his owne yet luke-warme blood, That from his wound yet welled fresh alas; In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood, And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
Which piteous spectacle, approving trew 325 The wofull tale that Trevisan had told, When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew, With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold, Him to avenge, before his bloud were cold, And to the villein said, Thou damned wight, 330 The author of this fact we here behold, What justice can but judge against thee right,° With thine owne bloud to price° his bloud, here shed in sight.