With his palmer’s staff he smote the sea. The waves sank down to rest, and all the ugly monsters vanished away.
When the storm had ceased they saw on an island a lady, who wept and wailed and cried for help.
Guyon, who was always ready to help those who wanted help, wished at once to go to her.
But the palmer would not let him.
‘She is another of the servants of the witch,’ he said, ‘and is only pretending to be sad.’
They came then to a peaceful bay that lay in the shadow of a great grey hill, and from it came the sweetest music that Guyon had ever heard.
Five beautiful mermaids were swimming in the clear green water, and the melody of their song made Guyon long to stop and listen. They had made this song about Guyon:
‘O thou fair son of gentle fairy,
Thou art in mighty arms most magnified
Above all knights that ever battle tried.
O! turn thy rudder hitherward awhile,
Here may thy storm-beat vessel safely ride.
This is the port of rest from troublous toil,
The world’s sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil.’
The rolling sea gently echoed their music, and the breaking waves kept time with their voices. The very wind seemed to blend with the melody and make it so beautiful that Guyon longed and longed to go with them to their peaceful bay under the grey hill. But the palmer would not let him stop, and the boatman rowed onwards.
Then a thick, choking, grey mist crept over the sea and blotted out everything, and they could not tell where to steer. And round the boat flew great flocks of fierce birds and bats, smiting the voyagers in their faces with wicked wings.