Presently they saw a hideous crowd of huge sea-monsters, such as
terrified any one to behold; every shape of ugliness and horror was
there—water-snakes, and whales, and sword-fish, and hippopotamuses, and
sharks, and every kind of sea-monster, and they came along in thousands,
with a dreadful noise and a hollow, rumbling roar. No wonder the Knight
was appalled, for, compared with these, all that we hold dreadful on
earth were but a trifle.
“Fear nothing,” then said the Palmer, “for these creatures that look
like monsters are not so in reality; they are only disguised into these
fearful shapes by the wicked enchantress to terrify us, and to prevent
our continuing our journey.”
Then, lifting up his magic staff, he smote the sea, which immediately
became calm, and all the make-believe monsters fled to the bottom of the
ocean.
Free from that danger, the travellers kept on their way, and as they
went, they heard a pitiful cry, as of some one wailing and weeping. At
last, on an island, they saw a beautiful maiden, who seemed in great
sorrow, and who kept calling to them for help. Directly Guyon heard her,
he bade the Palmer steer straight to her rescue; but the latter, knowing
better, said, “Fair sir, do not be displeased if I disobey you, for it
would be a bad thing to listen to her, for really there is nothing the
matter; it is only a trick to entrap you.”
The Knight was guided by his advice, and the ferryman held steadily
straight on his course.
The next temptation they had to face was of a different kind. They came
to a lovely bay, sheltered on the one side by a steep hill, and on the
other by a high rock, so that between them was a still and pleasant
haven. In this bay lived five mermaids, who could sing in the sweetest
manner possible, but the only use they made of their skill in melody was
to allure travellers, whom, when they had got hold of, they killed. So
now to Guyon as he passed, they began to sing their sweetest tunes,
greeting him as the mightiest knight that had ever fought in battle, and
bidding him to turn his rudder into the quiet bay, where his
storm-beaten vessel might safely ride.
“This is the port of rest from troublous toil,” they sang; “the world’s
sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil.”
The rolling sea and the waves breaking on the rock mingled with their
singing, and the wind whistled in harmony. The sound so delighted Guyon
that he bade the boatman row slowly, to let him listen to their melody.
But the Palmer wisely counselled him not to do this, and so they got
safely past the danger, and soon after they saw, in the distance, the
land to which they were directing their course.
Then suddenly a thick fog came down upon them, hiding the cheerful
daylight, and making the whole world seem a confused mass. They were
much dismayed at this, not knowing which way to steer in the darkness,
and fearing that they would fall into some hidden danger. To add to
their confusion, they were attacked by a flock of horrible birds, which
flew screaming round them, beating at them with their wicked wings—owls,
and ravens, and bats, and screech-owls. Yet the travellers would not
stay because of these, but went straight forward, the ferryman rowing,
while the Palmer kept a firm hand on the rudder, till at last the
weather began to clear, and the land showed plainly. Then the Palmer
warned Sir Guyon to have his armour in readiness, for peril would soon
assail him.
The Knight obeyed, and when the boat reached the shore, he and the
Palmer stepped out, fully armed, and carefully prepared against every
danger.
They had not gone far, before they heard a hideous bellowing, and a pack
of wild beasts rushed forward as if to devour them. But when they came
near, the Palmer lifted up his wonderful staff, and immediately they
were quelled, and shrank back trembling.
Passing these, Sir Guyon and the Palmer soon came to the place the
Knight was seeking—the object of his long and toilsome quest—the home of
the wicked enchantress—the “Bower of Bliss.”