mmmmmmm'^'fmmmm^mmm ' -•'11,''-,''% ^^^ c»*''« -"o. '"' * ■. . ' .0- .0- » ' • » , " - ' J '^,^- ,0^ ^'^^. ^ * '. N - ^ K. .^^ •^oo^ \ ■ ■/■^^ ,^-^ -^. \^ '(b <^ ' . K A x^q,. iOq. , THE FAERIE QUEENE EDMUND SPENSER. THE FAEEIE QUEENE BY EDMUND SPE]^SER WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM P. TRENT PROFESSOR IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY NEW YORK THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY PUBLISHERS ./\3T7 THE L'SRARY OF C0N'»iR6SS. ) V.0 Copiss R»c»lv«c OCT n '<^03 CLASS A^ XXc. No V^ 7 ?. OPY l5. Copyright, 1903, By THOMAS Y. CROAVELL & CO. CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction , , . ix Life .............. xix A Letter of the Authors ......... 3 Verses addressed to the Author 7 Verses addressed, by the Author of the Faerie Queen, to Various Noblemen, etc. ........... 10 The First Book of The Faerie Queene, coiitayning the Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Ilolinesse 14 Canto I ^ .' ' . ^ 14 Canto II 22 Canto III 28 Canto IV 34 Canto V 41 Canto VI 40 Canto VII 55 Canto VIII 63 Canto IX 70 Canto X 77 Canto XI 87 Canto XII 94 The Second Book of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of Sir Guyon, or of Temperaunce 101 Canto 1 102 Canto II 110 Canto III 116 Canto IV 123 Canto V 129 Canto VI 135 Canto VII 142 Canto VIII 151 Canto IX 158 Canto X 167 Canto XI 177 Canto XII 183 V VI CONTENTS. PAGE The Thirde Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of Britomartis, or of Chastity 196 Canto 1 196 Canto II 206 Canto III 213 Canto IV 221 Canto V 229 Canto VI 237 Canto VII 244 Canto VIII 252 Canto IX 259 Canto X 266 Canto XI 274 Canto XII. 281 The Fourth Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of Cambel and Triamond, or of Friendship 288 Canto 1 289 Canto II 296 Canto IIT. 304 Canto IV 311 Canto V 318 Canto VI 324 Canto VII 330 Canto VIII 337 Canto IX 345 Canto X 351 Canto XI 359 Canto XII 366 The Fifth Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of Artegall, or of Justice 371 Canto 1 372 Canto II 376 Canto III 384 Canto IV 389 Canto V 396 Canto VI. . . . . . • 404 Canto VII 409 Canto VIII 415 Canto IX 422 Canto X 429 Canto XI 434 Canto XII 443 CONTENTS. vii PAGE The Sixte Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of Sir Calidore, or of Courtesie 450 Canto 1 451 Canto II 457 Canto III 464 Canto IV. 470 Canto V 476 Canto VI 481 , Canto VII • . . . . t88 Canto VIII 495 Canto IX 502 Canto X 508 Canto XI 514 Canto XII 521 Two Cantos of Mutabilitie : which, both for forme and matter, appeare to be parcell of some following Booke of The Faerie Queene, under the Legend of Constancie 527 Canto VI 527 Canto VII 535 Canto VIII . .^ . . 643 Variations from the Original Editions 545 Glossary 557 Index to First Lines 581 INTRODUCTION. Of Spenser, more than of most other famous writers, it may be plausibly said that he needs no introduction. Not only has a great mass of criticism been heaped upon his works — although he has apparently fared better in this respect than his three compeers, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton — but it is entirely ^'iperfluous to say a word in his favor to his admirers, and almost a forlorn idertaking to try to win over to him unappreciative or totally indifferent and 3glectful readers. Like his greater disciple, Milton, Spenser suffers from the defects of his qualities ; and, perhaps even more than in the case of Paradise Lost, the reading public, so far as his greatest work. The Faerie Qiieene, is concerned, contents itself with that method of sampling which is to a poet -'most as much an insult as an involuntary tribute. His Epithalamioyi and his 'rothalamion are familiar to lovers of poetry, but nothing that he wrote has Lie currency of Milton's so-called Minor Poems. Hence, in the popular mind, Spenser is less near in order of eminence to Shakespeare's throne than Milton is, perhaps less near than Chiucer — although, more probably, through his archaic diction, he is usually grouped with Chaucer in a relationship of vague and anti- quated greatness. When a truly great poet is placed in such a position, his upholders become as a rule all the more intense in their devotion and, in proportion, scornful of the taste and critical capacity of the large world of readers. And nearly always neither party is wholly wrong or wholly right ; indeed, it is fairer to say, each party has a good deal of right and truth on its side. • In the case of Spenser, no idealist, no sensitive lover of ethereal beauty, no reader endowed with an ear trained to delight in the subtlest melodies and most exquisite harmonies, no dreamer enamored of the stately and romantic past, no willing prober of alle- g)ries and symbols, and, above all, no soul in love with essential purity can possibly remain indifferent to the appeal made by the poet and, to a considerable degree, by the man. For any reader, falling to a fair extent under these cate- gories, to know Spenser at all thoroughly is to love him deeply. But idealists, symbolists, ethereal natures, and readers trained to enjoy the subtlest poetic harmonies are, and have always been, rare. This is a work-a- 4Ciiy world actuated by a rather overpowering sense of the real. The Middle ix INTRODUCTION. Ages developed in what was after all a very limited class of men and women, a taste for allegory ; but the great national dramas killed allegory, and this benefi- cent result was really involved in the invention of printing and the consequent widening of the reading public, as well as in the recovery from classical times of better literary models. When Spenser decided, against Gabriel Harvey's advice, to abandon the writing of comedies and to continue the composition of The Faerie Queene, he probably made no mistake, so far as concerned his own genius and the world's profit ; but he unwittingly took his hand from the latch of the gate opening into the future. The gate he opened and entered admitted him into the past; but his good genius led him along a path that speedily emerged into the enchanted meads and vales of Faery land. Shake- speare, on the other hand, without Spenser's advantages of training and connections, but perhaps profiting from his predecessor's choice, opened the gate of the future. He too at times strayed into Faeryland, but never for long. Hence it is that Shakespeare continues to make an increasingly tri- umphant progress down the highway of time, while Spenser pursues his en- chanted wanderings. It would be rash to undertake to determine which fate is the more enviable. It is just as easy to account for the interest taken in Spenser by scholars as to account for the devotion of his admirers and the comparative neglect of the large public. He was the first poet of sustained eminence produced in England for nearly two centuries after Chaucer's death. He was the first poet to profit in full measure from the Renaissance, from the great Italian masters and from their less successful but still important French followers, from the labors of Wyatt and Surrey, and from the admirable but not sufficiently esteemed begin- nings made by Sackville. He added to the rich color and melody of Southern poetry not merely the "high seriousness" and philosophic depth of the best Greek classics, but the profound spiritual sincerity and the sense for the mys- terious and the symbolic characteristic of the Teutonic genius. He was in many respects a marvellously full and ripe product of the Renaissance, but he was also a product of the Protestant Reformation, yet at the same time an exponent of many of the finest ideals of the Middle Ages. In him^ cohere to a remarkable degree the interest attaching to the survivor and that attaching to the pioneer. When in addition to these facts we remember that Spenser was an important figure in the most brilliant and picturesque age of English history and literature, that he was the contemporary of Sidney and the predecessor of Marlowe and Shakespeare, that he was as clearly, although not so eminently, supreme in nar- rative, idyllic, philosophical, and loftily lyrical poetry as Shakespeare was in the drama, and that he was the master of an important group of seventeenth-century poets, including the brothers Fletcher and William Browne and culminating in Milton, we should be prepared to wonder not that so much scholarly study has been devoted to Spenser and his works, but that he has not attracted an even larger number of editors and critics. Nor do these considerations take into ac- count the interest Spenser's language, affectedly and factitiously archaic though it often is, must possess for philologians, or that far less commendable interest that attaches to the endeavor to solve such problems as who the Rosalynd of INTRODUCTION. wo Cantos of Mutabilitie " were discovered and given to the world in the > 1609 ; yet few critics, with the exception of Aubrey De Vere, have done noble cantos justice. 1 But our question has not been altogether answered. The Faerie Queene probably not interesting throughout to any one, — what long poem is ? many l\ ask, — but at least one reader has found himself confessing at the end that ^ '* iS: enough sheer interest in the poem to make him wonder at Spenser's less of invention. Passages that drag do occur with some frequency, equires all the beauty of the marriage of the Thames and the Medway to ne hope for the triumphs of art one finds in the fifth and sixth books that Nor is flagging of invention the only drawback. Confusion worse con- 3i results not merely from the fact that the central conception of the poem understood only from Spenser's letter to Kaleigh, but also from his having /ed from Ariosto the trick of taking up and dropping his threads of narra- lis separate adventures, in order, apparently, to pique a reader's curiosity. confusion is enhanced by mistakes made by the poet in consequence, it lid appear, of lapses of memory. Worse still at times seems the mixture of I and of realistic elements — of allegory intended to elevate the souls of men if allegory devised to flatter Elizabeth, Leicester, and Lord Grey of Wilton. ats of knightly heroes with dragons and proud Paynim foes do not har- ze with thinly veiled descriptions of actual combats waged by Henry IV. 'hilip II., much less with a partisan impeachment of Mary Queen of Scots and tesquely falsified version of Leicester's campaign in the Low Countries. Yet n all deductions have been made, it seems not impossible to forget that one is iing an allegory, and to interest one's self in the fortunes of nearly all Spenser's ■haracters, even if one does not quite hold one's breath when a dragon or some ♦tlier monster gets a hero-knight into a decidedly uncomfortable predicament. ^: Yet, why dwell on this matter of interest when The Faerie Queene has so mufh that is higher and better to yield us ? Is it not, with the possible excep- 1 In Macmillan's Magazine, Vol. XLII., Mr. Sebastian Evans argued that by 1596, *he da^tp of the collected " Sixe Bookes," Spenser had changed his mind as to the pe of his poem, and that the " Two Cantos of Mutabilitie" and the two stanzas ve not intended to be incorporated in The Faerie Queene. The first contention i-ompletely disposed of by Dr. Grosart (Vol. I., Appendix U), but the second point y fl open for argument. Certainly it is hard to see how Spenser could have worked (ivo cantos into the scheme of his poem, and it is clear that in no other cantos jg e so completely separated from human actors — from the brilliant knights and " .n ' ^" whom Spenser's imagination took such delight. Practically the best way _ .. jat the Cantos is to regard them, in Mr. Evans's words, " as one of the noblest ndependent poems of the noblest age of English poetry." But do not the lines that >pen the thirty-seventh stanza of the first canto almost settle it that Spenser intended o join these cantos to the main poem ? — " And were it not ill fitting for this file To sing of hilles and woods niongst warres and knights.'' it^sides, each canto is provided with the slightly doggerel epitome that is found before '^ canto of The Faerie Queene. Yet, after all. it is perhaps more important to 'le plain ■• ■«" ^"'^ of the " Two Cantos 't on Keats's Hyperion. INTRODUCTION. The Shepherd^s Calendar was, or what obscure court intrigue glancing at in this or that canto of The Faerie Queene. y^--' But while it is not necessary to commend Spenser's poetry eith or to select readers, and while it would be futile to commend it in it will ever be truly popular, it does seem worth while to combat ti when read in any quantity his verse is necessarily tedious. This lent notion, combined with the idea that Spenser's archaisms m difficult to understand, doubtless renders the naturally contracted great poet's admirers still more contracted. The doubt is periodic; whether any one can read all that we have of The Faerie Q^uei the sake of being able to say one has read it, or for some other absu reason. People quote Macaulay's phrases about being in at the Blatant Beast without being aware, any more than he seemingly •< formidable monster made his escape, and is, for aught we know, the world. Lovers of Spenser, of course, reply by enlarging up fortunate experiences among the enchanted if tangled thickets allegory, but they generally encounter a polite scepticism. Tlie chief cause of this divergence of opinions seems to lie ir detractors of The Faerie Queene demand that it should interest its lovers are satisfied with being charmed and ennobled by it. Ttt may trust Schopenhauer, are the more philosophical, since it is i- than interest that we should demand of a true work of art. But difficult to read a comparatively short poem like the Prothalamio only, it is difficult to set aside the demand for interest in the case ( poem consisting of one or more narratives, whether or not these allegorical in character. In other words, Spenser was unwittingly h when he began his poem with the line : — " A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain." Another sort of pricking immediately became inevitable — that is, o ears. A narrative, "whether in prose or verse, at once suggests a story suggests the craving for interest. Is The Faerie Queene interesting ? As a whole, it appar( Some readers cannot follow the wanderings of Una and the Red < to their successful issue. Others can do this and can even manage t Guyon until he overthrows the Bower of Bliss, although it may whether many of these, in gratitude for the great seventh canto d Cave of Mammon, are able to finish the tenth canto with its '• Chron; Kings, From Brute to Uthers rayne." Those who finish the seco probably trust themselves to embark upon the third — "The Lege martis, or of Chastity " ; and there seems to be no special reasc should not survive the uneven fourth book, and the better-knit fif books containing, as the latter do, respectively the lofty .legend of his Iron Man, Talus, and^thejovely cantos describing the passion of the fair Pastorella. Readers who leave the Blatant Beast ranging " world againe " ought to be sufficier ly initiated Spenspri^nc +- ^ j, INTRODUCnON. xill tion of Comus, the purest of English poems ? Is it not the most continuous stream of fluic melody ever poured into the ears of men ? Is there in English a poem fuller of descriptive power, varied, copious, and charming ? Is there a poem more truly philosophical, yet at the same time more completely the product of a sustained poetic imagination ? Finally, is there any other long poem in English that comes nearer than The Faerie Queene to the consummate art of Paradise Lost ? The answers to most of these questions are scarcely matters of debate.^/ The exquisite purity of Spenser's entire poetical work and of his own character has long been admitted. Una is the quintessence of purity, but she has many almost equally spotless rivals. Spenser's knights are not suffered to escape the tempta- tions of lust, nor is their creator insensible to fleshly charms ; but it may be safely said that there is only x)ne stanza in the long poem to which even the most prurient prude would be likely to raise objections. Whether the poem is not almost too pure, just as it is almost too sweet in its melodies and too uniformly fair and romantic in its coloring, is another matter. Perhaps the atmosphere of The Faerie Queene is too rarefied for many people, and perhaps this is the reason why Spenser has long appealed especially to poets and been known as "the poet's poet." To enlarge upon the philosophical depth of Spenser's poetry, particularly of The Faerie Q'leene and of the four Hymns, would require both an entire essay and the assuiance that one could add something to Mr. De Vere's excellent treatment of the subject. It nuist suffice to say that Spenser's poetry is as steeped in Platonism as it is in the more specifically literary spirit of the classics and the Renaissance. Here again may be found a reason for his failure to appeal to more or less realistic and positivistic readers like Byron, but surely the catho- lic mind should be receptive to his lofty idealism. The "sage and serious" teacher whom Milton set above professed philosophers has a message for this and for every generation, although he has not the power of the Ancient Mariner to compel attention. Nor is his teaching by any means always veiled in allegory. It is often brought out by his characters and by their actions as effectively as though he were really a dramatist or a novelist, and there is scarcely a canto that does not open with a stanza weighted with noble thought. As for the sustained perfection of Spenser's poetic art in the broadest sense of the term, it is obvious that dogmatic assertions should be avoided ; yet it is equally obvious that, on the whole, critical opinion has placed him among the major poets of our tongue, and that this is never done save in the case of poets who are also sustained artists. It is Spenser's sustained art that places him with Shakespeare and Milton and Chaucer and separates him from Wordsworth and Byron and Shelley. That he is inferior in the totality of his powers to Shake- peare no one doubts. That he is inferior to Milton no one will doubt who gives due weight to the verdict of time or to the claims of sublime and succinct as compared with exquisite and diffuse art. For that Spenser is diffuse and often lacking in finish and, on the whole, gentle, pure, lovely, rather than sublime, in spite of the power displayed in the description of the Cave of Mammon, seems indisputable. That the deficiencies of his work from the point of view of humor, XIV INTRODUCTION. archness, and vivid realistic power of characterization and description have tended to place him below Chaucer in poetic rank seems equally indisputable. Yet one may well refuse to institute invidious comparisons between such great masters, or may hold that neither Chaucer nor^ Shakespeare is Spenser's equal as a ^uniform, sustained, conscious artist. '~""' ^ But the far from inconsiderable body of Spenser's lesser writings demands attention. His prose tract on Ireland and his letters may be dismissed, not because they are not valuable or interesting, but because Spenser is for readers of to-day primarily a poet. Of his minor poems, if the phrase be applicable, doubtless the most important to the student is The Shepherd's Calendar. This was not the first English pastoral in point of time, but it was the first that made Englishmen feel that they possessed something in this once popular form not only equal or superior to anything of the kind that Italy or France could boast of, but actually worthy of comparison with the similar work of Virgil. Besides, it was the first English poem since the days of Chaucer, with the pos- sible exception of Sackville's Induction, that indicated poetic mastery, espe- cially in rhythm, on the part of its writer. It was at once and long popular, and exercised considerable influence upon the Spenserians of the seventeenth century. Take it all in all, it is still probably the best collection of pastorals in our literature, and retains not a little of its charm, although those modern readers who fail to take deep interest in discussions as to the state of the church carried on in rustic language by clerics disguised as shepherds are not very greatly to blame. It is even conceivable that some persons may find the chief interest of the poem, outside the fables of the Oak and the Briar and the Fox and the Kid, to lie in the proofs it gives of Spenser's varied and admirable power as a metrist, and that others may prefer to study it in connection with the work of Spenser's predecessors, especially of Marot, who may not, after all, be so completely our poet's inferior as some have thought, A nobler and a wider appeal is made by those two supreme lyrics of their elaborate kind, the Epithalamion and the Prothalamion. The rapture of approaching fruition and the awe that accompanies the contemplation of idealized perfection have apparently never been so perfectly blended by any other English poet as they have been by Spenser in his psean for his own wedding. In outward form his poem was Italian, in substance and spirit it was the expression of his own loyal and ecstatic soul. Less of compelling rapture but more of artistically presented objective beauty is probably to be found in the Prothalamion which gains upon its companion poem in succinctness and perhaps in certain peculiar triumphs of cadence. Yet, after all, to prefer the Prothalamion to the Epithala- mion is much like preferring the moon to the sun. As compared with these two splendid luminaries, Spenser's Amoretti seem to constitute a sort of Milky Way. There is no time to compare his peculiarly constructed sonnets with the numerous rival sonnet-sequences of the epoch. They are obviously inferior to Shakespeare's, and just as obviously they yield no such impressive single poems as every admirer of Sidney can recall. They are excellent and sometimes more than excellent, but, as a whole, they scarcely seem to form a constellation of lyric stars. Whether as a sequence they II INTRODUCTION. XV rank above or below Sidney's may be a matter of doubt ; it is scarcely doubtful that both Drayton and Joshua Sylvester have single sonnets to their credit, nei- ther of which v^^ould be exchanged by some readers for any of Spenser's sonnets. As an elegist Spenser is not eminently successful, as readers of Daphnaida and Astrophel will probably admit. It is hard to see why in the latter poem he did not succeed better, in view of the fact that he had Sidney for a subject. It should be remembered, however, that this Elizabethan paragon is the subject of two exquisite lines : — *' Most gentle spirite, breathed from above Out of the bosome of the makers blis " in The Buines of Time^ a poem that contains some noble stanzas on the power of poetry to immortalize, and helps to convince the capable reader that nothing of Spenser's can safely be slighted. Of the poems that remain briefly to be noticed that excellent combination of a satire and a beast fable, Mother Hubberd's Tale, has perhaps received most commendation from the critics. It undoubtedly deserves high praise, and may be profitably compared with certain eclogues in The Shepherd^s Calendar. Its excellence should not, however, make us forget the descriptive power' dis- played in VirgiVs Gnat and in that remarkable creation of pure fancy, Muiopotmos, which suggests comparison with Shelley's Witch of Atlas. But better than these and fuller of true poetry than Mother Hubberd's Tale is Colin ClouVs Come Home Againe, perhaps the most remarkable example in English of the blending, upon an extensive scale, of occasional and familiar wi'th' essential poetry. If it were only a tribute of friendship from Edmund Spenser to Sir Walter Raleigh, it would be notable ; we should be glad to possess it if it gave us only the brilliant and interesting picture of Elizabeth's court ; but in addition it is full of pastoral beauty, and it contains a fairly superb picture of a gallant ship breasting the waves. It is a poem that no lover of poetry can afford to neglect, and one of its lines, " Is Triton blowing loud his wreathed home," suggests the thought that Wordsworth, who loved Una and The Faerie Qzieene, must have read other poems of Spenser's with delight and profit. Only one group of important lyrics remains to be mentioned — the four Hymns in honor of Love, of Beauty, of Heavenly Love, and of Heavenly Beauty. These for some reason, while dear to a few readers of Spenser, have never seemed to take the rank among his writings that appears to be their due. Perhaps their Platonism is too pronounced, perhaps they are too subtly ethereal, too little appealingly human. Yet it might be plausibly argued that they present the philosophical mind and the equably soaring imagination of Spenser more com- pletely than anything else he ever wrote save only the "Two Cantos of Muta- bilitie." However this may be, no student of Spenser can afford to leave the Hymns unread, and no lover of literature should with complacency admit the fact that he is not a student of Spenser. For not to study and love such a poet is a misfortune, although only a partisan would proclaim it to be a fault. W. P. TRENT. Nbw York, April 22, 1903. XVI INTRODUCTION. NOTE ON SPENSER'S LANGUAGE AND METRES. To the student of Chaucer the language of Spenser presents few difficulties, and even the student of Shakespeare is not greatly baffled by it. The general reader is sometimes puzzled, but perhaps more often offended by the curious spelling, and of course has to use a glossary oftener than is consistent with thorough enjoyment of the poetry. But these drawbacks diminish the more one reads, and are, after all, not very serious. As a matter of fact, Spenser's contemporaries and immediate successors found his language archaic, and doubtless got less pleasure out of his old forms than some of us moderns do, time not having then imparted to them so great an element of quaint charm. He wrote at a period when the language was still in a state of flux, but he fixed his eyes steadily upon Chaucer and the other older writers. He may have saved for us words that would otherwise have been lost, but he did not save himself from the charge of affectation, since in some par- ticulars his contemporaries found him more obscure than he is to us who have profited by some of his archaisms. Daniel hinted at his "aged accents and untimely words," and Ben Jonson charged him with writing "no language." His eighteenth-century readers were outraged by his uncouthness and modernized him ; in fact, he had not been dead a hundred years before his ghost appeared as " ancient" to Oldham as Gower's ghost had to Shakespeare. The nineteenth century was more hospitable to his mannerisms, but even so sympathetic a stu- dent as Dean Church was forced to declare, " It is not to enrich a language, but to confuse and spoil it, when a writer forces on it words which are not in keeping with its existing usages and spirit, and much more when he arbitrarily deals with words to make them suit the necessities of metre and rime." " He not only revives old words," continues Church, "but he is licentious — as far as we are able to trace the usages of the time — in inventing new ones. He is unscrupu- lous in using inferior forms for better and more natural ones, not for the sake of the word, but for the convenience of the verse. The transfer of words — adjec- tives and verbs — from their strict use to a looser one, the passage from an active to a neuter sense, the investing a word with new associations, . . . are, within limits, part of the recognized means by which language, and especially poetical language, extends its range. But Spenser was inclined to make all limits give way to his convenience and the rapidity of his work." The faults of affectation and haste just charged are serious ones and cannot be refuted. They may be easily illustrated. Spenser uses quite freely the past participle with ij- as a prefix, e.g. y-paynted ; he has present participles in the Northern and form, e.g. glitterand ; his infinitives often end in en, e.g. could tellen ; his plural verbs may end in the same way, e.g. they marchen ; he omits it with an impersonal verb, e.g. seemed for it seemed ; he has antiquated auxiliaries, e.g. mote for might; should for would have; and he uses such old plurals of nouns as /one, foes, eyne., eyes. It has been shown that many of Spenser's forms, words, and phrases are from the dialect of Lancashire, but while the employment of these might easily be defended so far as The Shepherd's Cal- INTRODUCTION. xvii endar is concerned, it is difficult to see how their frequent use in^ Spenser's other works can be viewed in any other light than that of affectation./ Too great rusticity is as much a fault as excessive archaism. It may be noted finally that Spenser indulges frequently in Latinisms, in undigested French forms, e.g. liiteresse, in accentuation nearer to that of the French and the older English than to that of his own day, e.g. parent, and in almost overabundant alliteration. With regard to Spenser's metres, full information must, of course, be sought in some treatise on English metrics. Here it must be sufficient to point out the fact that the famous Spenserian stanza used in The Faerie Queene is probably the most important metrical invention due to any English poet. For general narrative and idyllic purposes when fluidity, copiousness, picturesqueness — in short, blended effects of charm and power — are required, it is practically with- out a rival. Exactly how it came to be formed is not clear. If derived from the Italian ottava rima by the addition of an alexandrine, as is often suggested, it must Tfave dispTeased Spenser's ear at first, and caused him to introduce changes in his rhyme-scheme. The rhyme royal so much used by Chaucer is still less likely to have furnished a basis. An eight-lined stanza used by Chaucer with rhymes corresponding to the first eight lines of the Spenserian stanza may have been transformed by the addition of an alexandrine. Spenser had used this very combination of eight rhymes at the beginning of the eleventh eclogue of The ShephercVs Calendar., and curiously enough had rhymed the nine fol- lowing lines in such a way as to form a perfect Spenserian stanza, lacking only the extra foot in the ninth line. But perhaps, after all, the famous stanza was the result of adding an alexandrine to the octave of one of his peculiarly constructed sonnets. However it came into existence, it was a remarkable dis- covery for English poetry ; but it would not be fair to Spenser not to observe that in addition to the great metrical variety and skill displayed in The Shep- herd's Calendar he must be credited with admirable mastery of the rhyme royal (the Hymns), the ottava rima (VirgiVs Gnat), the heroic couplet (Mother HubbenVs Tale), as well as of complicated rhyme arrangements based upon Italian models and of sundry peculiarly lyrical stanzas. The original though not altogether satisfactory structure of his sonnets has been already noticed ; his Epithnlamion is almost a strict example of the difficult Italian canzone. A negative proof of his metrical superiority to his contemporaries is to be seen in his disdain of the popular and doggerel " poulter's measure." In short, it is only in blank verse and truly singing stanzas that Spenser yields to any of his great rivals, and he cannot be absolutely proved to have attempted the former. But on6 could fill a long chapter with a discussion of Spenser's metrical and rhythmical achievements, just as one could with a discussion of the fortunes of his famous stanza — its enlargement and spoiling at the hands of Prior, its revival by Thomson, its culmination in the hands of Keats. xviii INTRODUCTION. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. The chief editions of Spenser published within the past one hundred years are those by the Rev. H. J. Todd (1805), by George H. Hillard (1839), by Pro- fessor F. J. Child (1855), by J. P. Collier (1862, reprinted in the new " Aldine Poets"), by Dr. Richard Morris (with a memoir by Professor J. W. Hales, — the " Globe Edition," 1865), and, most monumental of all, by Dr. Alexander B. Grosart for the Spenser Society (10 vols. 1880-1882). All the above editions are furnished with useful memoirs, Dr. Grosart's amounting to a thick book. To these sources should be added Gabriel Harvey's Letter-book (Camden Society) and his Works (edited by Grosart). The best life is that by Dean Church in the " English Men of Letters " (1879). The fullest study of the works of Spenser is contained in George L. Craik's Spenser and His Poetry (3 vols., revised edition, 1871). For the point of view of an eighteenth-century admirer, see Thomas Warton's Observations on The Faerie Qiieene (1752-1762). Various valuable critical essays are contained in Dr. Grosart's edition, notably those by Aubrey De Vere, Professor Dowden, Professor Palgrave, and Mr. Edmund Gosse. Some of these essays have been published separately by their authors, e.g. De Vere's Ussaijs, Chiefly on Poetry. In addition, the reader may be referred to the article on Spenser in the Dictionary of National Biography, to Lowell's essay (Works, IV.), to Church's (Ward's English Poets, I.), to the papers by Professor Wilson (BlackicoocVs, 1834-1835), to Saintsbury's Histoid of Elizabethan Literature, to Taine, to Morley's English Writers (Vol. IX.), to Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets, to Sir Walter Scott's Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, to J. S. Hart's Essay on the Life and Writings of Edmund Spenser (1847), to the Rev. F. D. Maurice's Friendship of Books, and for an essay on Spenser's heroines, to Dowden's Studies and Transcripts, where his essay on "Spenser the Poet and Teacher," originally contributed to Grosart's edition of Spenser, will also be found. The late Dean Kitchin edited Books I. and II. of The Faerie Qneene for the Clarendon Press, with a critical apparatus useful to students. The poem entitled " Brittain's Ida," erroneously attributed to Spenser, may be found in Collier's edition and also in Dr. Grosart's edition of the works of Phineas Fletcher. LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSEK. Edmund Spenser marked the beginning of a great national literature for England. He ushered in a group of writers who lifted that country's letters from a commonplace plane to a height which has been unsurpassed during three centuries of continuous literary effort. After the death of Chaucer — the father of English literature and Spenser's great exemplar — the promise of dawn also passed away, extinguished by the twofold cause of the Wars of the Roses and the rise of the Reformation. But the two centuries of gloom in turn gave way, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, to a splendid burst of new light, with Spenser as its herald. It was the great century of the Reformation, which began with Henry VIII. and ended with Elizabeth ; and Spenser's life extended over the latter half of this century — from 1552 to 1599. It was a time marked by a tremendous quickening of the national pulse. Statecraft, conquest, and adventure flourished as never before, and the. life of letters also gained new vigor. '-•Spenser was contemporary with Sidney, Raleigh, and Hooker, while Bacon and Shakespeare were born just ten years later. In France it was the day of Montaigne and Rabelais, while Italy had but recently lost Ariosto and Machia- velli. The literary splendor of these two countries had outshone that of England up to this time, but now met a powerful rival. ^.-'•'iThe birth-date of Spenser is not a settled point, but varies between 1552 and 1551, with probability inclining to the foi;mer year. In Sonnet 60 of his Amo- retti the poet declared that the year since he had fallen in love (1592) had seemed longer to him "then al those fourty which my life outwent." His life, therefore, began during the closing months of Edward VI. 's reign. His infancy was passed during the bloody days of Queen Mary. And Elizabeth ascended the throne when the future poet was six. Londpjo, was his birthplace. For this fact we have the poet's own testimony. In Prothalamion he speaks of — " Mery London, my most kyndly nurse, That to me gave this lifes first native sourse, Though from another place I take my name, An house of auncieut fame." This other place to which Spenser refers is near Burnley in northeast Lan- cashire. As early as the thirteenth century there was a freehold at Hurstwood, three miles from Burnley, pertaining to a Spenser, and this seems to be the original settlement of the family. The entire house stood well. Sir John Spen- xix XX LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. cer was the poet's cousin, according to Edmund's words in Colin Clout, and the later Spencers and Churchills were also allied to this house. In the reign of Elizabeth its head bore the name of Edmund. He died in 1587, having been twice married, and having had a son John by each wife. Both the Johns mar- ried, and each had a son Edmund. It is this duality of Johns and Edmunds which has confused biographers in tracing the lineage of the poet. His heredi- tary connection with the Lancashire district is, however, abundantly corroborated by his dialect. It is also pretty well determined that his father was John Spenser, "a gen- tleman by birth," who had removed to London, where he was "a free journey- man" in the "art and mystery of cloth-making" in the service of Nicholas Peele of Bow Lane. There were but two other Spensers in London at this time, and both of them were well-to-do. But since the poet was a beneficiary student in his boyhood, it is probable that this modest tailor was his father. His mother's name was Elizabeth, as the poet himself says in Sonnet 74. His parents were living in East Smithfield — according to Oldys the antiquary — when Edmund was born. He was the oldest child, there being a brother, Joim, and probably a sister, Sarah. Edmund's education began at the Merchant Taylor's School. He probably entered it tlie year it opened, loGl, Nicholas Spenser, a man of considerable wealth, was warden of the company ; and Edmund's name is mentioned more than once as having received a part of sums " geven to poor schoUers of dyvers gramare scholles," in a bequest of Robert Nowell's. In 1569 he is further mentioned as receiving a gown and entering Pembroke Hall (now College), Cambridge, where he matriculated the 20th of May. At college Spenser read widely and was a good linguist, delving into Greek, Latin, French, and Italian. Chaucer of his own tongue he studied and ever after loved ; while his later writings betrayed easy familiarity with Homer, Theocritus, Plato, Virgil, Cicero, Tasso, Petrarch, Ariosto, Du Bellay, and Marot. Such wide reading places him near Milton, and with Gray and Jonson among the learned English poets. Spenser's earliest known literary efforts began at college, and took the form of translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay. They were published in A Thea- tre for Worhllhjgs, which appeared in July, 1569. It is probable, therefore, that Spenser had tried his hand at writing even before he went to Cambridge. The Theatre itself was a bitter invective against popery, published by one John Van Der Noodt, who had sought refuge in England. The time was the internecine war waged between Pius V. and Elizabeth. The cause of Mary Queen of Scot' was in people's minds, and church feeling ran high. It is interesting to not in this connection, the stand taken by Spenser, in writing for a Protestant book, although his translations could not be called polemical. The poet was Puritan in tendency all his life, but lacked the earnestness and enthusiasm which dis- tinguished Milton. Spenser's name was not identified with the twenty stanzas from Petrarch and Du Bellay published in the Theatre. But in 1591 they appeared again, in revised form, in his Complaynts. LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. xxi The young poet made some lasting and influential friends while at college. Among the men he knew were John Still, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells ; Lancelot Andrews, afterwards famous as Bishop of Winchester ; John Young, afterwards Bishop of Rochester and characterized as "the faithful Roffy " in The Shepheardes Calender; Thomas Preston; Gabriel Harvey; and Edward Ivirke. The last two were especially intimate with him. In later life his corre- spondence with Harvey brings to light many details of the poet's life. Harvey also introduced him in London, while Kirke edited his Shepheardes Calender. In his college course, as at school, Spenser was assisted by private bequests. He is mentioned several times in the lists and also on the records of illness, which show that he was no richer in health than in worldly goods. But he took his degree of B.A. in 1573 and "commenced M.A." in 1576. His college days passed quietly and busily, although there is some slight ground for believing that his relations with the Pembroke faculty were not always pleasant. Plarvey seems to indicate as much in later letters ; but Harvey was always a man of moods. Spenser speaks in praise of Cambridge in Faerie Queene (Book 4, canto 11), but is silent about Pembroke. After leaving college, the poet went on a visit to his kindred in Hurst- wood. He was then about twenty-four and fixed in his ambition to become a writer. This ambition had been confided to his friends Harvey and Kirke, both of whom encouraged and assisted him. Spenser spent about one year in the north — a memorable year to him, for he fell deeply in love with a " Rosalynd," who, however, disdained his suit. Many attempts have been made to discover the identity of this Rosalynd who wrought such havoc in the poet's heart, one con- jecture being that she was a Rosa Dinley. Kirke asserts that she was " a gen- tlewoman of no mean house." Be that as it may, the spurned lover's grief and despair bore large fruit in The Shepheardes Calender of 1579, and lasted until Colin Clout in 159L To Rosalynd he poured forth all his complaints, until he met the Elizabeth, who was more yielding. During the few months spent in the north after leaving college, his friend Harvey was writing for him to come to London to try his fortune ; and to London he went, poor in purse, but rich in wit, just as Shakespeare was to go a few years later. Harvey introduced Spenser to Sir Philip Sidney, himself a literary aspirant, who took a great liking to the young Lancashire writer from the outset, and who introduced him in turn to his uncle, the Earl of Leicester, powerful court favorite and patron of letters. Leicester took Spenser into his household, employing him, as a correspondent. This was in 1579. But Spenser seems to have been in Ireland for a short time before coming to London ; for in his View of the Present State of Ireland he speaks — as though he saw it — of the "execution of a notable tray tor at Limmericke, called Murrogh O'Brien," which occurred in July, 1577. However, he was certainly back in London by October, 1570, for he dates one of his letters to Harvey " Leycester House." His acquaintances in London at this time show him to have been a man of already recognized genius, and he probably moved in the most brilliant society. His friend Sidney, for whom he always had a deep and ten be w^ell accepted, I ma}" be perhaps encoraged to frame the other part oi. polliticke vertues in his person, after that hee came to be king. To some, I know, this jNIethode will see me displeasaunt, which had rath( have good discipline delivered plainly in way of precepts, or sermoned £ large, as they use, then thus clowdily enwrapped in Allegoricall devise; But such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the use of these dayes, seein all things accounted by their showes, and nothing esteemed of, that is nc' delightfull and pleasing to commune sence. For this cause is Xenopho preferred before Plato, for that the one, in the exquisite depth of his judge ment, formed a Commune welth, such as it should be; but the other in th person of Cyrus, and the Persians, fashioned a governement, such as migh best be : So much more profitable and gratious is doctrine by ensample then by rule. So haue I laboured to doe in the person of Arthure : whom' I conceive, after his long education by Timon, to whom he was by Merli; delivered to be brought up, so soone as he was borne of the Lady Igrayne ^^ave scene in a dream or vision the Faery Queen, with whose excellen --^ he awaking resolved to seeke her out; and so being b; • Timon thoroughly instructed, he went to seeke he. ^hat Faery Queen e I meane glory in my general. I conceive the most excellent and gloriou-. and her kingdome in Faery land. And -^ shadow her. For considering she royall Queene or Empresse, the ^dy, this latter part in sonn '^r name according to you) nthia being both name; forth magnificence ^e and the rest} ^11, therefore '^ to thai •tues, 1 .tory les : ird A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS. of an Historiographer. For an Historiographer discourseth of affayres orderly as they were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions; but c Poet thriisteth into the uiiddest, even where it most concerneth him, and there recoursing to the thiuges forepaste, and divining of thinges to come, maketh a pleasing Analysis of all. ',} The beginning therefore of my history, if it were to be told by an Histo- riograph.er should be the twelfth booke, which is the last ; where I devise that the Faery Queene kept her Annuall feaste xii. dayes; uppon which xii. severall dayes, the occasions of the xii. severall adventures hapned, which, being undertaken by xii. severall knights, are in these xii. books severally handled and discoursed. The first was this. In the beginning of the feast, there presented him selfe a tall clownishe younge man, who falling before the Queene of Faries desired a boone (as the manner then was) which during that feast she might not refuse ; which M'as that hee might tiave the atchievement of any adventure, which during that feaste should happen : that being graunted, he rested him on the floore, unfitte through his rusticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire Ladye in mourn- ng weedes, riding on a white Asse, with a dwarf e behind her leading a Avarlike steed, that bore the Armes of a knight, and his speare in the Iwarfes hand. Shee, falling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that :ier father and mother, an ancient King and Queene, had bene by an huge Iragon many years shut up in a brasen Castle, who thence suffred them not o yssew ; and therefore besought the Faery Queene to assygne her some )ne of her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently that clownish )erson, upstarting, desired that adventure : whereat the Queene much won- lering, and the Lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his lesire. In the end the Lady told him, that unlesse that armour which she orought, would serve him (that is, the armour of a Christian man specified ;iy Saint Paul, vi. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in that enterprise ; which being forthwith put upon him with dewe furnitures thereunto, he .seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the Lady. And eftesoones taking on him knighthood, and mounting on that jtraunge Courser, he went forth M^th her on that adventure: where be- ginneth the first booke, viz. A gentle knight was pricking on the playne. &c. The second day ther came in a Palmer, bearing an Infant with bloody hands, whose Parents he complained to have bene slayn by an Enchaunter- esse called Acrasia ; and therfore craved of the Faery Queene, to appoint him some knight to performe that adventure ; which being assigned to Sir Guyon, he presently went forth with that same Palmer : which is the beginning of the second booke, and the whole subject thereof. The third A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS. day there came in a Groome, who complained before the Faery Queene, that a vile Enchaunter, called Busirane, had in hand a most faire Lady, called Amoretta, whom he kept in most grievous torment, because she would not yield him the pleasure of her body. Whereupon Sir Scudamour, the lover of that Lady, presently tooke on him that adventure. But being vnable to performe it by reason of the hard Enchauntments, after long sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who succoured him, and reskewed his loue. But by occasion hereof many other adventures are intermedled; but rather as Accidents then intendments : As the love of Britomart, the over- throw of Marinell, the misery of Florimell, the vertuousnes of Belphoebe, the lasciviousnes of Hellenora, and many the like. Thus much, Sir, I have briefly overronne to direct your understanding to the welhead of the History ; that from thence gathering the whole intention of the conceit, ye may as in a handfull gripe al the discourse, which other-, wise may happily seeme tedious and confused. So, humbly craving the continuance of your honorable favour towards me, and th' eternall estab- lishment of your happines, I humbly take leave. 23. January 1589, Yours most humbly affectionate, Ed. Spenser. VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. A Vision upon this conceipt of the Faery Queene. Me thought I saw the grave where Laura lay, Within that Temple where the vestall flame Was wont to burne ; and passing by that way To see that buried dust of living fame, Whose tumbe faire love, and fairer vertue kept, All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene : At whose approch the soule of Petrarke wept, And from thenceforth those graces were not seene ; For they this Queene attended, in whose steed Oblivion laid him downe on Lauras herse. Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed, And grones of buried ghostes the hevens did perse : Where Homers spright did tremble all for griefe, And curst th' accesse of that celestiall thiefe. Another of the same. The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings, As doth the Cuckoes song delight when Philumena sings. If thou hast formed right true vertues face herein, Vertue her selfe can best discerne to whom they written bin. If thou hast beauty praysd, let her sole lookes divine Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine. If Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew, Behold her Princely mind aright, g,nd write thy Queene anew, Meane while she shall perceive, how far her vertues sore Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of yore : And thereby will excuse and favour thy good Will ; Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by an Angels quill. Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are of price. Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy device. • W^ R. To the learned Shepeheard. Collyn, I see, by thy new taken taske. Some sacred fury hath enricht thy braynes, That leades thy muse in haughty verse to maske, And loath the layes that longs to lowly s Waynes ; That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes unto kinges : So like the lively Larke that mounting singes. Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne, And all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight : Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne. Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight ; Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well ; Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee the bell. Yet, as thou earst with thy sweete rounde- layes Didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers ; So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes 8 VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. Delight the daintie eares of higher powers : And so mought they, in their deepe skan- ning skill, Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quyll. And faire befall that Faery Queene of thine, In whose faire eyes love linckt with ver- tue sittes : Enfusing, by those bewties fyers devyne, Such high conceites into thy humble wittes, As raised hath poore pastors oaten reedes From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes. So mought thy Redcrosse knight with happy hand Victorious be in that faire Hands right, Which thou dost vayle in Type of Faery land, Elizas blessed field, that Albion bight : That shieldes her triendes, and warres her mightie foes, Yet still with people, peace, and plentie flowes. But (jolly shepheard) though with pleas- ing style Thou least the humour of the Courtly trayne, Let not conceipt thy setled sence be- guile, Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine. Subject thy dome to her Empyringspright, From whence thy Muse, and all the world, takes light. HOBYNOLL. Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately towne Runst paying tribute to the Ocean seas. Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of re- nowne Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes. Nere thy sweet bankes there lives that sacred crowne, Whose hand strowes Palme and never- dying bayes : Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne, Present her with this worthy Poets prayes ; For he hath taught hye drifts in shepe- herdes weedes. And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes. R. S. Grave Muses, march in triumph and with prayses ; Our Goddesse here hath given you leave to land ; And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces Bow downe his brow unto her sacred hand. Deserte findes dew in that most princely doome. In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde : So did that great Augustus erst in Roome With leaves of fame adorne his Poets hedde. Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene, Even of the fairest that the world hath seene ! H. B. When stout Achilles heard of Helens rape. And what revenge the States of Greece devisd, Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape. In womans weedes him selfe he then dis- guisde ; But this devise Ulysses soone did spy, And brought him forth the chaunce of warre to try. When Spencer saw the fame was spredd so large. Through Faery land, of their renowned Queene, Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge, As in such haughty matter to be seene. To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice ; But Sydney heard him sing, and knew his voice. And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne From his retyred life to menage armes. So Spencer was by Sidney's speaches wonne To blaze her fame, not fearing future harmes ; For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred In her high praise, that all the world admired. Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes. Did win the palme from all the Grecian Peeres, So Spenser now, to his immortall prayse, Hath wonne the Laurell quite from all his feres. VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. What though his taske exceed a humaine witt. He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fitt. W. L. To looke upon a worke of rare devise The which a workman setteth out to view, And not to yield it the deserved prise That unto such a workmanship is dew, Doth either prove the judgement to be nauglit, Or els doth shew a mind with envy fraught. To labour to commend a peece of worke, Which no man goes about to discommend. Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did lurke Some secret doubt whereto the prayse did tend ; For when men know the goodnes of the wyne, 'Tis needlesse for the boast to have a sygne. Thus then, to shew my judgement to be such As can discerne of colours blacke and white. As alls to free my minde from envies tuch, That never gives to any man his right, I here pronounce this workmanship is such As that no pen can set it forth too much. And thus I hang a garland at the dore ; Not for to shew the goodness of the ware ; But such hath beene the custome hereto- fore. And customes very hardly broken are ; And when your tast shall tell you this is trew", Then looke you give your hoast his utmost dew. Ignoto. VERSES ADDRESSED, BY THE AUTHOR OF THE FAERIE QDEENE, TO VARIOUS NOBLEMEN, &C. To the Right honourable Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord high Chauncelor of Eng- land, &c. Those prudent heads, that with theire counsels wise Whylom the pillours of th' earth did sustaiue, And taught ambitious Rome to tyran- nise And in the neck of all the world to rayne ; Oft from those grave affaires were wont abstaine, With the sweet Lady Muses for to play : So Ennius the elder Africane, So Maro oft did Caesars cares allay. So you, great Lord, that with your coun- sell sway The burdeiue of this kingdom mightily, With like delightes sometimes may eke delay The rugged brow of caref ull Policy ; And to these ydle rymes lend litle space, Which for their titles sake may tind more grace. To the most honourable and excellent Lord the Earle of Essex. Great Maister of the Horse to her Highnesse, and knight of the Noble order of the Garter, &c. Magnificke Lord, whose vertnes excellent, Doe merit a most famous Poets witt To be thy living praises instrument, Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be writt In this base Poeme, for thee far unfitt: Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby ; But when my Muse, whose fethers, noth- ing flitt, Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly. With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty To the last praises of this Faery Queene ; Then shall it make more famous memory Of thine Heroicke parts, such as they beene : Till then, vouchsafe thy noble counte- naunce To these first labours needed f urtheraunce. To the Right Honourable the Earle of Oxenford, Lord high Chamberlayne of England, &c. Receive, most Noble Lord, in gentle gree. The unripe fruit of an unready wit ; Which by thy countenaunce doth crave to bee Defended from foule Envies poisnous bit. Which so to doe may thee right well befit, Sith th' antique glory of thine auncestry Under a shady vele is therein writ, And eke thine owne long living memory, Succeeding them in true nobility: And also for the love which thou doest beare To th' Heliconian ymps, and they to thee ; They unto thee, and thou to them, most deare : Deare as thou art unto thy selfe, so love That loves and honours thee, as doth behove. To the right honourable the Earle of Northumberland. The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame To be tlie Nourses of nobility. And Registres of everlasting fame, To all that amies professe and chevalry. Then, by like right the noble Progeny, Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde lO TO SEVERAL NOBLEMEN, ETC. II T' embrace the service of sweete Poetry, By whose endevours they are glorifide ; And eke from all, of whom it is envide, To patronize the authour of their praise, Which gives them life, that els would soone have dide. And crownes their ashes with immortall bales. To thee, therefore, right noble Lord, I send This present of my paines, it to defend. To the right Honourable the Earle of Ormond and Ossory. Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl hath bred ; "Which, being through long wars left almost waste, With brutish barbarisme is overspredd : And, in so faire a land as may be redd, Not one Parnassus, nor one Helicoue, Left for sweete Muses to be harboured, But where thy selfe hast thy brave man- sione : There, in deede, dwel faire Graces many one, And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned wits; And in thy person, without paragone. All goodly bountie and true honour sits. Such, therefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield. Receive, dear Lord, in worth, the fruit of barren field. To the right honourable the Lord Ch. Howard, Lord high Admiral of Eng- land, knight of the noble order of the Garter, and one of her Majesties privie Counsel, &c. And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly per- sonage And noble deeds, each other garnishing. Make you ensample to the present age Of th' old Heroes, whose famous of- spring The antique Poets wont so much to sing; In this same Pageaunt have a worthy place, Sith those huge castles of Castilian King, That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace. Like flying doves ye did before you chace ; And that proud people, woxen insolent Through many victories, didst first deface : Thy praises everlasting monument Is in this verse engraven semblably. That it may live to all posterity. To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, the Lord Grey of Wilton, knight of the Noble order of the Garter, (fee. Most Noble Lord, the pillor of my life. And Patrone of my Muses pupillage ; Through whose large bountie, poured on me rife In the first season of my feeble age, I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage ; Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor reave Out of your endlesse debt, so sure a gage. Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receave. Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account : Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weave In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso Mount, And roughly wrought in an unlearned Loome : The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your favorable doome. To the right noble and valorous knight, Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Wardein of the Stanneryes, and Lieftenaunt of Corne- waile. To thee, that art the sommers Nightin- gale, Thy soveraine Goddesses most dears delight, Why doe I send this rusticke Madrigale, That may thy tunefull eare unseason quite? Thou onely fit this Argument to write, In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bowre, And dainty love learnd sweetly to endite. My rimes I know unsavory and sowre, To tast the streames that, like a golden showre. Flow from thy fruitfuU head, of thy love's praise; Fitter, perhaps, to thonder Martiall stowre. When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise : Yet, till that thou tliy Poeme wilt make knowne. Let thy faire Cinthias praises be thus rudely showne. 12 VERSES ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR. To the right honoiirahle the Lord Bur- leigh, Lord high Threasurer of Eng- layid. To you, right noble Lord, whose carefull brest To menage of most grave affaires is bent; And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest The burdein of this kingdomes governe- ment. As the wide compasse of the firmament On Atlas mighty shoulders is upstayd. Unfitly I these ydle rimes present. The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd : Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd, And the dim vele, with which from com- mune vew Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd, Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you. Such as they be, vouchsafe them to re- ceave, And wipe their faults out of your censure grave. E. S. To the right honourable the Earle of Cumberland. Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming faire, Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind Which of their praises have left you the haire ; To you this humble present I prepare, For love of vertue and of Martiall praise ; To which though nobly ye inclined are. As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies, Yet brave ensample of long passed daies, In which trew honor yee may fashioned see. To like desire of honor may ye raise, And fill your mind with magnanimitee. Receive it. Lord, therefore, as it was ment, For honor of your name and high descent. E. S. To the right honourable the Lord of Hunn- don, high Chamberlaine to her Majesty. Renowmed Lord, that, for your worthi- nesse And noble deeds, have your deserved place High in the favour of that Emperesse, The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace : Here eke of right have you a worthie place. Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene And for your owne high merit in like cace : Of which, apparaunt proof e was to be seeue, Wlien that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify, And their disloiall powre defaced clene, The record of enduring memory. Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse, That all posteritie thy honor may reherse. E. S. To the right honourable the Loi^d of Buck- hurst, one of her Majesties privie Coun- sell. In vain I thinke, right honourable Lord, By this rude rime to memorize thy name. Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record In golden verse, worthy immortal fame : Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same) Thy gracious Soverains praises to com- pile. And her imperiall Majestic to frame In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. But, sith thou maist not so, give leave a while To baser wit his power therein to spend, Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file, And unadvised oversights amend. But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine. To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsing- ham, knight, principall Secretary to her Majesty, and one of her honourable privy Counsell. That Mantuane Poetes incompared spirit, Whose girland now is set in highest place. Had not Mecpenas, for his worthy merit, It first ad vaunst to great Augustus grace, Might long perhaps have lien in silence bace, Ne bene so much admir'd of later age. This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace, Flies for like aide unto your Patronage, That are the great Mecaenas of this age, As wel to al that civil artes professe. As those that are inspir'd with Martial rage, TO SEVERAL NOBLEMEN, ETC. 13 And craves protection of her feeble- nesse : Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse. In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse. E. S. To the right noble Lord and most valiaunt Captaine, Sir John Norrls, knight, Lord president of Mounster. Who ever gave more honourable prize To the sweet Muse then did the Martiall crew, That their brave deeds she might immor- talize In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew? Who then ought more to favour her then you, Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age. And Precedent of all that amies ensue? Whose warlike prowesse and manly cour- age, Tempred with reason and advizement sage. Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile ; In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage; And lately shakt the Lusitauian soile. Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd thy fame. Love him that hath eternized your name-. E. S. To the right honourable and most vertuous Lady the Countesse of Penbroke. Remembraunce of that most Heroicke spirit, The hevens pride, the glory of our daies. Which now triumpheth, through immor- tall merit Of his brave vertues, crownd with last- ing bales Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies ; Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore. To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies , Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore His goodly image, living evermore In the divine resemblaunce of your face ; Which with your vertues ye' embellish more, And native beauty deck with hevenlie grace : For his, and for your owne especial sake. Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take. E. S. To the most vertuous and beautifull Lady, the Lady Carew. Ne may I, vrithout blot of endlesse blame, You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place; But with remembraunce of your gracious name, Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace And deck the world, adorne these verses base. Not that these few lines can in them comprise Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace. Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes, And in subdued harts do tyranyse; For thereunto doth need a golden quill. And silver leaves, them rightly to devise ; But to make humble present of good will : AVhich, whenas timely meanes it purchase may. In ampler wise it selfe will forth display. E. S. To all the gratious and beautifull Ladies in the Court. The Chian Peincter, when he was requirde To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew, To make his worke more absolute, desird Of all the fairest Maides to have the vew, Much more me needs, to draw the sem- blant trew Of beauties Queene, the worlds sole wonderment, To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew. And steale from each some part of orna- ment. If all the world to seeke I overwent, A fairer crew yet no where could I see Then that brave court doth to mine eie present, That the worlds pride seemes gathered there to bee. Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte : Forgive it me, faire Dames, sith lesse ye have not lefte. E. S. THE FIRST BOOK or THE FAERIE QUEENE CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED" CROSSE, OR OF HOLINESSE. Lo! I, the man whose Muse whylome did maske, As time her taught, in lowly Shephards weeds, Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske, For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds, And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds ; Whose praises having slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broade emongst her learned throng : Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song. Helpe then, O holy virgin! chiefe of nyne, Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will ; Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still. Of Faerie knights, and fay rest Tanaquill, Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill, That I must rue his undeserved wrong : O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong! And thou, most dreaded impe of highest Jove, Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart At that good knight so cunningly didst rove. That glorious fire it kindled in his hart ; Lay now thy deadly Heben bowe apart. And with thy mother mylde come to mine ayde ; Come, both ; and with you bring triumph- ant Mart, In loves and gentle jollities arraid. After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allay d. IV. And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright! Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine, Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine. Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile, To thinke of that true glorious type of thine. The argument of mine afflicted stile : The which to heare vouchsafe, O dearest dread, a-while! CANTO I. The Patrone of true Holinesse Fonle Errour doth defeate : Hypocrisie, liiin to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate. i A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine, i. Ycladd in mightiearmesand silver shielde, Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did \ remaine, Jhe cruell markes of many* a bloody fielde ; Yet armes till that time did he never wield. His angry steede did chide his fomiug bitt, H f£. i-AtM^ir. vuKENt. 15 \s much d'-^dayumg to the curbe to yield : i?ull j'ily knight he seemd, and faire did sitt, As one for knightly giusts and fierce en- counters titt. And on his brest a bloodie Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : Upon his shield the like was also scor'd. For soveraine hope which in his helpe he had. Right faithfull true he was in deede and word. But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad. III. Upon a great adventure he was bond, That greatest Gloriana to him gave, (That greatest Glorious Queene of Faery loud) To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have, Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave : And ever as he rode his hart did earne To prove his puissance in battell brave Upon his foe, and his new force to learne, Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne. A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside, Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow, Yet she ranch whiter; but the same did hide Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ; And over all a blacke stole shee did throw : As one that inly mournd, so was she sad. And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had, And by her, in aline, a milkewhite lambe she lad. So pure and innocent, as that same lambe, She was in life and every vertuous lore ; And by descent from Royall lynage came Of ancient Kinges and Queenes, that had of yore Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore, And aU the worl(ii -ir subjection held ; Till thiit inferuall - . .;d with fouleuprore Forwasted all their laud, and them expeld ; Whom to avenge she had this Knight from far compeld. Behind' her farre away a Dwarfe did lag. That lasie seemd, in being ever last. Or wearied with bearing of her bag Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, The day with cloudes was suddeine over- cast. And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast, That everie wight to shrowd it did con- strain ; And this faire couple eke to shroud them- selves were fain. Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand, A shadie grove not farr away they spide. That promist ayde the tempest to with- stand ; Whose loftie trees, yclad with sonimers pride, Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide. Not perceable with power of any starr: And all within were pathes and alleles wide. With footing worne, and leading inward farr. Faire harbour that them seems, so in they entred ar. VIII. And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led. Joying to heare the birdes sweete har- mony. Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred, Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky. Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy. The sayling Pine; the Cedar proud and tall; The vine-propp Elme ; the Poplar never dry; The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all; The Aspiue good for staves ; the Cypresse fuuerall; IX. The Laurell, meed of mightie Con- querours i6 THE F.\ERIE QUEENt. [book I. Aud Poets sage; the Fine liiat weepcili still: The Willow, worne of forlorne Para- mours ; The Eugh, obedient to the benders will; The Birch for shaf tes ; the Sallow for the mill; The Mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound ; The warlike Beech ; the Ash for nothing ill; The fruitf uU Olive ; and the Platane round ; The carver Holme ; the Maple seeldom in- ward sound. X. Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, Untill the blustring storme is overblowne ; When, weening to returne whence they did stray, They cannot finde that path, which first was showne, But wander too and fro in waies un- knowne, Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene. That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne : So many pathes, so many turnings scene. That which of them to take in diverse doubt they been. At last resolving forward still to fare. Till that some end they finde, or in or out, That path they take that beaten seemd most bare, And like to lead the labyrinth about ; Which when by tract they hunted had throughout. At length it brought them to a hollowe cave Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave, And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave. * Be well aware,' quoth then that Ladie milde, * Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke : The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde, Breedes dread full doubts. Oft fire is with- out smoke. Autl perill without sliow : therefore your stroke. Sir KnighL, with-''old tii' further tryall made.' 'Ah Ladie,' (sayd he) ' shame were to revoke The forward footing for an hidden shade: Vertue gives her selfe light through dark- nesse for to wade.' ' Yea but ' (quoth she) ' the perill of this place I better wot then you : though nowe too late To wish you backe returne with foule dis- grace. Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate. To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate. This is the wandriug wood, this Errours den, A monster vile, whom God and man does hate : Therefore I read beware.' 'Fly, fly!' (quoth then The fearefull Dwarfe) ' this is no place for living men.' But, full of fire and greedy hardiment, The youthfull Knight could not for ought be staide ; But forth unto the darksom hole he went, And looked in : his glistring armor made A litle glooming light, much like a shade ; By which he saw the ugly monster plaine, Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide. But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine, Mostlothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine. And, as she lay upon the durtie ground. Her huge long taile her den all overspred , Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound. Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed. Sucking upon her poisnous dugs ; each one Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill-favored : Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone. Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone. XVI. Their dam upstart out of her den effraide, And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile About her cursed head ; whose folds dis- plaid CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 17 Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile. She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle, Armed to point, sought backe to turne agaiue ; For light she hated as the deadly bale, Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine. Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine. Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he lept As Lyon fierce upon the flying pray. And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept From turning iacke, and forced her to stay : Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray, And turning fierce her speckled taile ad- vaunst, Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay ; Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst; The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder glaunst. XVIII. Much daunted with that dint her sence was dazd ; Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round, And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd With doubled forces high above the ground : Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd, Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge train e All suddenly about his body wound, That hand or foot to stirr he strove in vaine. God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traiue! His Lady, sad to see his sore constraint, Cride out, ' Now, now. Sir knight, shew what ye bee ; Add faith unto your force, and be not faint ; Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee.' That whcii he heard, in great perplexitie, His gall did grate for griefe and high dis- daine ; And, knitting all his force, got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine, That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine. Therewith she spewd out of her filthie maw A floud of poyson horrible and blacke. Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw. Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe. Her vomit full of bookes and papers was. With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke, Andcreeping sought way in theweedygras: Her filthie parbreake all the place defiled has. XXI. As when old father Nilus gins to swell With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale His fattie waves doe fertile slime outwell. And overflow each plaine and lowly dale: But, when his later spring gins to avale. Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherein there breed Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male And partly femall, of his fruitful seed ; Such ugly monstrous shapes elswher may no man reed. XXII. The same so sore annoyed has the knight. That, weluigh choked with the deadly stinke, His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight: Whose corage when the feend perceivd to shrinke. She poured forth out of her hellish sinke Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small, Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke. Which swarming all about his legs did y crall, ^And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all. XXIII. As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide, When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west. High on an' hill, his flocke to vcM'en wide, Markes which doe byte their hasty supper best ; A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest, All striving to infixe their feeble stinges. That from their noyance he no where can rest ; ^ i8 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. But with his clownish hands their tender wings He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings. ^ XXIV. Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame Then of the certeine perill he stood in, Halfe furious unto his foe he came, Resolvd in minde all suddenly to win, Or soone to lose, before he once would lin ; And stroke at her with more then manly force, That from her body, full of filthie sin. He raft her hatefull heade without re- morse : A streame of cole-black blood forth gushed from her corse. XXV. Her scattered brood, soone as their Parent deare They saw so rudely falling to the ground, Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare Gathred themselves about her body round. Weening their wonted entrance to have found At her wide mouth ; but being there with- stood, They flocked all about her bleeding wound , And sucked up their dying mothers bloud. Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their That detestable sight him much amazde, To see th' unkindly Impes, of heaven accurst, Devoure their dam : on whom while so he gazd, Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst, Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst. And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end Of such as drunke her life the which them nurst ! Now needeth him no lenger labour spend. His foes have slaine themselves, with whom he should contend. His Lady, seeing all that chaunst from far re, Approcht in hast to greet his victorie ; And saide, ' Faire knight, borne under happie starre, "Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye, Well worthie be you of that Armory, Wherein ye have great glory wonne this day. And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie. Your first adventure: many such I pray. And henceforth ever wish that like suc- ceed it may ! ' Then mounted he upon his Steede againe, And with the Lady backward sought to wend. That path he kept which beaten was most plaine, Ne ever would to any byway bend, But still did follow one unto the end, The which at last out of the wood them brought. So forward on his way (with God to frend) He passed forth, and new adventure sought : Long way he travelled before he heard of ought. XXIX. At length they chaunst to meet upon the way An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad. His f eete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray, And by his belt his booke he hanging had : Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad, And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent. Simple in shew, and voide of malice bad ; And all the way he prayed as he went, And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent. He faire the knight saluted, louting low. Who faire him quited, as that courteous was; And after asked him, if he did know Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas. 'Ah! my dear sonne,' (quoth he) 'how should, alas! Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell, Bidding his beades all day for his trespas, Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell ? With holy father sits not with such thinges to mell. XXXI. ' But if of daunger, which hereby doth dwell, And homebredd evil ye desire to heare, Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell, CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 19 That wasteth all this coimtrie, farre aud neare.' ' Of such,' (salde he,)' I chiefly doe inquere, Aud shall thee well rewarde to shew the place, In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare ; For to all kuighthood it is foule disgrace, That such a cursed creature lives so long a space.' XXXII. * Far hence ' (quoth he) * in wastfull wildernesse His dwelling is, by which no living wight May ever passe, but thorough great dis- tresse.' • Now,' (saide the Ladie,) ' draweth toward night, And well I wote, that of your later fight Ye all forwearied be ; for what so strong. But, wanting rest, will also want of might ? The Sunne, that measures heaven all day long. At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waves emong. xxxin. •Then with the Sunne take, Sir, your timely rest. And with new day new worke at once begin : Untroubled night, they say, gives couusell best.' • 'Right well. Sir knight, ye have advised bin,' Quoth then that aged man : ' the way to win Is wisely to advise ; now day is spent : Therefore with me ye may take up your In For this same night.' The knight was well content ; So with that godly father to his home they went. XXXI v. A litle lowly Hermitage it was, Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side. Far from resort of people that did pas In traveill to and f roe : a litle wyde There was an holy chappell edifyde, Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say His holy thinges each morne and even- tyde: Thereby a christall streame did gently play. Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway, Arrived there, the litle house they fill, Ne looke for entertainemeut where none was ; Rest is their feast, and all thinges at their will: The noblest mind the best contentment has. With faire discourse the evening so they pas; For that olde man of pleasing wordes had store, And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas : He told of Saintes and Popes, and ever- more He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before. y^"^ XXXVI. / The drouping night thus creepeth on them fast ; And the sad humor loading their eyeliddes. As messenger of Morpheus, on them cast Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleep ,^^,^ them biddes. Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes : Where Avhen all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes. He to his studie goes ; and there amiddes His magick bookes, and artes of sundrie kindes, He seekes out mighty charmes to trouble sleepy minds. Then choosing out^ f aHL_ word s^jhd^ horrible, (Let none them read) thereof did verses frame ; With which, and other spelles like terrible. He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame ; And cursed heven ; and spake reprochful shame Of highest God, the Lord of life and light : A bold bad man, thatdar'dto call by name Great Gorgon, prince of darknes and dead night ; At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight. xxxviu. And forth he cald out of deepe darknes dredd Legions of Sprights, the which, like litle flyes Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd, Awaite whereto their service he applyes. To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies. 20 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo, And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes : The one of them he gave a message too, The other by him selfe staide, other worke to doo. ^ XXXIX. l' He, making speedy way through spersed f ayre, And through the world of waters wide and deepe, To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire. Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe, And low, where dawning day doth never peepe, His dwelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred. Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, The one faire fram'd of buruisht Yvory, The other all witli silver overcast ; And wakeful dogges before them farre doe lye, Watching to banish Care their eniray, Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe. By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly, And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe. XLI. And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tum- bling downe. And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring wiude, much like the sowne Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne. No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes. As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne. Might there be heard ; but carelesse Quiet lyes Wrapt in eternall silence farre from eni- myes. XLII. The Messenger approching to him spake ; But his waste wordes retournd to him in vaine : So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake. Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine, Whereat he gan to stretch ; but he againe Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake. As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine Is tost with troubled sights and fancies weake, He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake. XLIII. The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake. And threatued unto him the dreaded name Of Hecate : whereat he gan to quake, And, lifting up his lompish head, with blame Halfe angrie asked him, for what he came. * Hether ' (quoth he,) ' me Archimago sent, He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame. He bids thee to him send for his intent A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent. XLIV. The God obayde; and, calling forti straight way A diverse Dreame out of his prison darke, Delivered it to him, and downe did lay His heavie head, devoide of careful carke ; Whose sences all were straight benumbd and Starke. He, backe returning by the Yvorie dore, Remounted up as light as chearef ull Larke ; And on his litle winges the dreame he bore In hast unto his Lord, where he him left afore. Wlio all this while, with charmes and hidden artes, Had made a Lady of that other Spright, And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes. So lively and so like in all mens sight, That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight : The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt, Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight. Her all in white he clad, and over it Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit. XLVI. Now, when that ydle dreame was to him brought, CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 21 Unto that Elfiu knight he had him fly, Where h slept soundly void of evil thought, And with false shewes ahuse his fantasy, In sort as he him schooled privily : And that new creature, borne without her dew, Full of the makers guyle, with usage sly He taught to imitate that Lady trew, Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew. Thus, well instructed, to their worke they haste; And, comming where the knight in slom- ber lay. The one upon his bardie head him plaste, And made him dreanie of loves and lust- full play. That nigh his manly hart did melt away. Bathed in wanton blis and wicked joy. Then seemed him bis Lady by him lay, And to him playnd, how that false winged boy Her chaste hart had subdewd to learne Dame Pleasures toy. XLVIII. And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne Queene, Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to bring Her, whom he, waking, evermore did weene To bee the chastest flowi-e that aye did spring On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king. Now a loose Leman to viie service bound : And eke the Graces seemed all to sing, Hymen Id Hymen ! dauncing all around ; Whylst freshest Flora her with Yvie gir- lond crownd. In this great passion of unwonted lust. Or wonted feare of doing ought amis, He starteth up, as seeming to mistrust Some secret ill, or hidden foe of bis. Lo ! there before his face his Ladie is. Under blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke ; And as halfe blushing off red him to kis, With gentle blandishment and lovely looke, Most like that virgin true which for her knight him took. L, All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight. And half enraged at her sbamelesse guise. He thought have slaine her in his fierce despight ; But hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise. He stayde his hand ; and gan himselfe advise To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth. Wringing her hands, in wemens pitteous wise, Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth Both for her noble blood, and for her tender youth. And sayd, ' Ah Sir, my liege Lord, and my love. Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate, And mightie causes wrought in heaven above, Or the blind God that doth me thus aniate. For hoped love to winne me certaine hate ? Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die. Die is my dew; yet rew my wretched state. You, whom my hard avenging destinie Hath made judge of my life or death in- differently. ' Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leave My fathers kingdom ' — There she stopt with teares ; Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave. And then againe begonne ; ' My weaker yeares, Captiv'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares. Fly to your fayth for succour and sure ayde: Let me not die in languor and long teares.' ' Why, Dame,' (quoth he,) ' what hath ye , thus dismayd ? What frayes ye, that were wont to com- fort me af rayd ? ' ' Love of your selfe,' she saide, ' and deare constraint, Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie night THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book 1. lu secret anguish and unpittied plaint, Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.' Her doubtf ull words made that redoubted knight Suspect her truth : yet since no' untruth he knew, Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight He would not shend ; but said, ' Deare dame, I rew, That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto you grew. LIV. selfe. it fell not all to 'Assure your ground ; For all so deare as life is to ray hart, 1 deeme your love, and hold me to you bound : Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart. Where cause is none; but to your rest depart.' Not all content, yet seemd she to ap- , pease Her mournefull plaiutes, beguiled of her art. And fed with words that could not chose but please : So, slyding softly forth, she turned as to her ease. LV. Long after lay he musing at her mood, Much griev'd to thinke that gentle Dame so light. For whose defence he was to shed his blood. At last, dull wearines of former fight Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright, That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare delight : But, when he saw his labour all was vaine, With that misformed spright he backe returnd CANTO n. The guilefull great Enchaunter parts The Redcrosse Knight from Truth: Into whose stead faire falshood steps, And workes him woefull ruth. By this the Northerne wagoner had set His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre That was in Ocean waves yet never wet, But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre To al that in the wide deepe wandring arre; And chearef ull Chaunticlere with his note shrill Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre In hast was climbing up the Easterne hill, Full envious that night so long his roome did fill: II. When those accursed messengers of hell. That feigning dreame, and that faire- forged Spright, Came to their wicked maister, and gan tel Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeed- ing night : Who, all in rage to see his skilful! might Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine, And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright : But, when he saw his threatning was but He cast about, and searcht his baleful bokes againe. Eftsooneshe tooke that miscreated faire, And that false other Spright, on whom he spred A seeming body of the subtile aire. Like a young Squire, in loves and lusty- hed His wanton daies that ever loosely led. Without regard of armes and dreaded fight: Those twoo he tooke, and in a secrete bed. Covered with darkenes and misdeeming night, Them both together laid to joy in vaine delight. IV. Forthwith he runnes with feigned faith- full hast Unto his guest, who, after troublous sights And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast ; Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful frights. As one aghast with feends or damned sprights, CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 23 And to him cals; 'Rise, rise! unhappy Swaine, That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights Have knit themselves in Venus shameful chaine: Come, see where your false Lady doth her honor staine.' All in amaze he suddenly up start With sword in hand, and with the old man went ; Who soone him brought into a secret part, Where that false couple were full closely ment In wanton lust and lend embracement : Which when he saw, he burnt with geal- ous fire ; The eie of reason was with rage yblent. And would have slaine them in his furious ire. But hardly was restreined of that aged sire. VI. Retourning to his bed in torment great, And bitter anguish of his guilty sight, He could not rest ; but did his stout heart eat. And wast his inward gall with deepe de- spight, Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night. • At last faire Hesperus in highest skie Had spent his lampe, and brought forth dawning light : Then up he rose, and clad him hastily : The dw^arfe him brought his steed ; so both away do fly. Now when the rosy fingred Morning faire. Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed. Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire, And the high hils Titan discovered, The royall virgin shooke off drousy-hed ; And, rising forth out of her baser bowre, Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled, And for her dwarfe, that wont to wait each howre : Then gan she wail and weepe to see that woeful stowre. And after him she rode, with so much speede As her slowe beast could make ; but all in vaine, For him so far had borne his light-foot steede. Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce dis- dain e. That him to follow was but fruitlesse paiue : Yet she her weary lirabes would never rest ; But every hil and dale, each wood and plaine, Did search, sore grieved in her gentle brest, He so ungently left her, whome she loved best. IX. But subtill Archimago, when his guests He saw divided into double parts, And Una wandring in woods and forrests, Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish arts, That had such might over true meaning harts. Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make. How he may worke unto her further smarts ; For her he hated as the hissing snake, And in her many troubles did most pleas- ure take. He then devisde himselfe how to dis- guise ; For by his mighty science he could take As many formes and shapes in seeming wise, As ever Proteus to himselfe could make: Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in lake. Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell ; That of himselfe he ofte for feare would quake, And oft would flie away. O! who can tell The hidden powre of herbes, and might of Magick spel ? XI. But now seemde best the person to put on Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest : In mighty amies he was yclad anon, And silver shield ; upon his coward brest A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest A bounch of heares discolourd diversly. Full jolly knight he seemde, and wel addrest ; 24 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And when he sate upon his courser free, Saint George himselfe ye would have deemed him to be. But he, the knight whose semblaunt he did beare, The true Saint George, was wandred far away, Still flying from his thoughts and gealous feare : Will was his guide, and griefe led him astray. At last him chaunst to meete upon the way A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde to point, In whose great shield was writ with letters ^ay S(uis foy ; full large of limbe and every joint He was, and cared not for God or man a point. XIII. Hee had a faire companion of his way, A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red, Purfled with gold and pearle of rich as- say ; And like a Persian mitre on her hed Shee wore, with crowns and owches gar- nished. The which her lavish lovers to her gave. Her wanton palfrey all was overspred AVith tinsell trappings, woven like a wave. Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave. With faire disport, and courting dalli- aunce, She intertainde her lover all the way ; But, when she saw the knight his speare advaunce. She soone left off her mirth and wanton play, And bad her knight addresse him to the fray. His foe was nigh at hand. He, prickte with pride And hope to winne his Ladies hearts that day, Forth spurred fast : adowne his coursers side The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride. The knight of the Redcrosse, when him he spide Spurring so bote with rage dispiteous. Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride. Soone meete they both, both fell and fu- rious, That, daunted with theyr forces hideous. Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand ; And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous, Astouied with the stroke of their owne hand. Doe backe rebutte, and ech to other yealdeth laud. /' XVI. / As when two rams, stird with ambitious ^ pride. Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke. Their horned fronts so fierce on either side Doe meete, that, with the terror of the shocke, Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a blocke, Forgetf ull of the hanging victory : So stood these twaine, unmoved as a rocke, Both staring fierce, and holding idely The broken reliques of their former cru- elty. XVII. The Sarazin, sore daunted with the buffe, Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies; Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff: Each others equall puissaunce erwies. And through their iron sides with critell spies Does seeke to perce; repining courage yields No foote to foe: the flashing fier flies, As from a forge, out of their burning shields ; And streams of purple bloud new die the verdant fields. XVIII. * Curse on that Cross,' (quoth then the Sarazin,) ' That keepes thy body from the bitter fitt ! Dead long ygoe, I wote, thou haddest bin, Had not that charme from thee forwarned itt: But yet I warne thee now assured sitt, And hide thy head.' Therewith upon his crest With rigor so outrageous he smitt. That a large share it hewd out of the rest. And glauncing downe his shield from blame him fairly blest. CANTO II. 1 THE FAERIE QUEENE. 25 Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleep- ing spark Of native vertue gan ef tsoones revive ; And at his haughty hehnet making mark, Sohugely stroke, that it the Steele did rive. And cleft his head. He, tumhling dowue alive. With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis. Greeting his grave : his grudging ghost did strive With the f raile flesh ; at last it flitted is. Whither the soules doe fly of men that live amis. The Lady, when she saw her champion fall Like the old mines of a broken towre. Staid not to waile his woefull funerall. But from him fled away with all herpowre ; Who after her as hastily gan scowre. Bidding the dwarf e with him to bring away The Sarazins shield, signe of the conquer- oure. Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay ; For present cause was none of dread her to dismay. XXI. Shee turning backe, with ruefull counte- naunce, Cride, 'Mercy, mercy. Sir, vouchsafe to show On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce. And to your mighty will' Her humblesse low. In so ritch weedes, and seeming glorious show, Did much emmove his stout heroi'cke heart ; And said, ' Deare dame, your suddeiu over- throw Much rueth me; but now put feare apart, And tel both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.' XXII. Melting in teares, then gan shee thus la- ment. *The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre Hath now made thrall to your commande- ment, Before that angry heavens list to lowre. And fortune false betraide me to thy powre. Was (O! what now availeth that I was?) Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour, He that the wide West under his rule has. And high hath set his throne where Ti- beris doth pas. ' He, in the first flowre of my freshest age. Betrothed me unto the onely haire Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage : Was never Prince so faithfuU and so faire, Was never Prince so meeke and debonaire ; But ere my hoped day of spousall shone. My dearest Lord fell from high honors staire Into the hands of hys accursed fone, And cruelly was slaine ; that shall I ever mone. XXIV. ' His blessed body, spoild of lively breath, Was afterward, I know not how, convaid. And fro me hid : of whose most innocent death When tidings came to mee, unhappy maid, O, how great sorrow my sad soule assaid ! Then forth I went his woefull corse to find, And many yeares throughout the world I straid, A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded mind With love long time did languish, as the striken hind. ' At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin To meete me wandring ; who perforce me led With him away, but yet could never win The Fort, that Ladies hold in soveraigne dread. There lies he now with foule dishonor dead, Who, whiles he livde, was called proud Sans foy, The eldest of three brethren ; all three bred Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans joy; And twixt them both w^as born the bloudy bold Sans loy. ' In this sad plight, f riendlesse, unfortu- nate. Now miserable I, Fidessa, dwell. Craving of you, in pitty of my state, To doe none ill, if please ye not doe well.' He in great passion al this while did dwell. More busying his quicke eies her face to view. Then his dull eares to heare what shee did tell ; And said, ' faire lady, hart of flint would rew 26 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which ye shew. XXVII. ' Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, Having both foand a new friend you to aid, And lost an old foe that did you molest ; Better new friend then an old foe is said.' With chaunge of chear the seeming simple maid Let fal her eien^ as shamefast, to the earth. And yeelding soft, in that she nought gainsaid, So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth, And shee coy lookes : so dainty, they say, maketh derth. XXVIII. Long time they thus together travelled ; Til, weary of their way, they came at last Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred Their armes abroad, with gray mosse overcast ; And their greene leaves, trembling with every blast. Made a calme shadowe far in compasse round : The fearefull shepheard, often there aghast. Under them never sat, ne wont there sound His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' un- lucky ground. But this good knight, soone as he them can spie. For the coole shade him thither hastly got: For golden Phoebus, now ymounted hie. From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot. That living creature mote it not abide ; And his new Lady it endured not. There they alight, in hope themselves to hide From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide. Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, With goodly purposes, there as they sit; And in his falsed fancy he her takes To be the fairest wight that lived yit ; Which to expresse he bends his gentle wit: And, thinking of those braunches greene to frame A girlond for her dainty forehead fit, He pluckt a bough ; out of whose rifte there came Smal drops of gory blond, that trickled down the same. XXXI. Therewith a piteous yelling voice was heard. Crying ' O ! spare with guilty hands to teare My tender sides in this rough rynd embard ; But fly, ah ! fly far hence away, for feare Least to you hap that happened to me heare, And to this wretched Lady, my deare love ; O, too deare love, love bought with death too deare ! ' Astond he stood, and up his heare did hove ; And with that suddein horror could no member move. XXXII. At last whenas the dreadf nil passion Was overpast, and manhood well awake, Yet musing at the straunge occasion. And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake : ' What voice of damned Ghost from Limbo lake, Or guilefuU spright wandring in empty aire. Both which f raile men doe oftentimes mis- take, Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches rare, And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse blood to spare ? * Then, groning deep; 'Nor damned Ghost,' (quoth he,) ' Nor guileful sprite to thee these words doth speake; But once a man, Fradubio, now a tree ; Wretched man, wretched tree! whose nature weake A cruell witch, her cursed will to wreake. Hath thus transformd, and plast in open plaines. Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, And scorching Sunne does dry my secret vaines ; CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 27 For though a tree I seme, yet cold and heat me paiiies.' 'Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree,' Quoth then the Knight ; ' by whose mis- chievous arts Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see ? He oft finds med'cine who his griefe imparts, But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to sup- pressed 'The author then,' (said he) 'of all my smarts, Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse, That many errant knights hath broght to wretchednesse. * In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hott The fire of love, and joy of chevalree, First kindled in my brest, it Avas my lott To love this gentle Lady, whome ye see Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree ; With whome, as once I rode accompanyde, Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee. That had a like faire Lady by his syde ; Lyke a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde. ' Whose forged beauty he did take in hand All other Dames to have exceeded farre : I in defence of mine did likewise stand, Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre. So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre. In which his harder fortune was to fall Under my speare : such is the dye of warre. His Lady, left as a prise martiall. Did yield her comely person to be at my call. ' So doubly lov'd of ladies, unlike faire, Th' one seeming such, the other such indeede, One day in doubt I cast for to compare Whether in beauties glorie did exceede : A Rosy girlond was the victors meede. Both seemde to win, and both seemde won to bee. So hard the discord was to be agreede. Frselissa was as faire as faire mote bee. And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as shee. ' The wicked witch, now seeing all this while The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway, What not by right she cast to win by guile ; And by her hellish science raisd streight way A foggy mist that overcast the day. And a dull blast, that breathing' on her face Dimmed her former beauties shining ray. And with foule ugly forme did her dis- grace : Then was she fay re alone, w^hen none was faire in place. 'Then cride she out, " Fye, fye! de- formed wight, ' Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine ' To have before bewitched all mens sight : ' O ! leave her soone, or let her soone be slaine." Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine, Eftsoones I thought her such as she me told, And would have kild her ; but with faigned paine The false witch did my wrathfull hand withhold : So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould. XL. 'Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my Dame, And in the witch unweetingjoyd long time, Ne ever wist but that she was the same ; Till on a day (that day is everie Prime, When Witches wont do penance for their crime,) I chaunst to see her in her proper hew. Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme : A filthy foule old woman I did vew. That ever to have toucht her I did deadly rew. XLI. * Her neather partes misshapen, mon- struous. Were hidd in water, that I could not see ; But they did seeme more foule and hideous, Then womans shape man would beleeve to bee. Thensforth from her most beastly corn- pan ie I gan refraine, in minde to slipp away, 28 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [Book i. Soone as appeard safe opportunitie : For danger great, if not assurd decay, I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray. XLII. ' The divelish hag by chaunges of my cheare Perceiv'd my thought; and, drownd in sleepie night, With wicked herbes and oyntments did besmeare My body all, through charmes and magicke might. That all my senses were bereaved quight: Then brought she me into this desert waste , And by my wretched lovers side me pight ; Where now, enclosd in wooden wals full faste, Banisht from living wights, our wearie dales we waste.' 'But how long time,' said then the Elfin knight, ' Are you in this misformed hous to dwell ? ' ' We may not chaunge,' (quoth he,) ' this evill plight, Till we be bathed in a living well : That is the terme prescribed by the spell.' ' O! how,' sayd he, ' mote I that well out find, That may restore you to your wonted well?' ' Time and suffised fates to former kynd Shall us restore ; none else from hence may us unbynd.' The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament. And knew well all was true . But the good knight, Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment. When all this speech the living tree had spent, The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground, That from the blood he might be innocent. And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound : Then, turning to his Lady, dead with feare her fownd. XLV. Her seeming dead he fownd with feigned feare. As all unweeting of that well she knew ; And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eyelids blew. And dimmed sight, with pale and deadly hew. At last she up gan lift : with trembling cheare Her up he tooke, (too simple and too trew) And oft her kist. At length, all passed feare. He set her on her steede, and forward forth did beare. CANTO HI. Forsaken Truth long seekes her love, And makes the Lyon mylde ; Marres blind Devotions mart, and fals In hand of leachour vylde. Nought is there under heav'ns wide hol- lownesse, That moves more deare compassion of mind, Then beautie brought t'unworthie wretch- ednesse Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind. I, whether lately through her brightnes blynd. Or through alleageance, and fast fealty. Which I do owe unto all womankynd, Feele my hart perst with so great agony. When such I see, that all for pitty I could dy. And now it is empassioned so deepe, For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, That my f rayle eies these lines with teares do steepe. To thinke how she through guyleful hand el in g. Though true as touch, though daughter of a king. Though faire as ever living wight was fay re. Though nor in word nor deede ill merit- ing, Is from her knight divorced in despayre, And her dew loves deryv'-d to that vile witches shayre. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 29 Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this while Forsaken, wofiill, solitarie mayd, Far from all peoples preace, as in exile. In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, To seeke her knight ; who, snbtily betrayd Through that late vision which th' En- chaunter wrought, Had her abaudoud. She, of nought atfrayd, Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought ; Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her brought. One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, From her unhastie beast she did alight ; And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight : From her fay re head her fillet she undight, And layd her stole aside. Her angels face, As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place ; Did never mortall eye behold such heav- enly grace. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood A ramping Lyon rushed suddeinly. Hunting full greedy after salvage blood. Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, With gaping mouth at her ran greedily. To have attonce devourd her tender corse ; But to the pray when as he drew more ny, His bloody rage aswaged with remorse, And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet, And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong, As he her wronged innocence did weet. O, how can beautie maister the most strong. And simple truth subdue avenging wrong I Whose yielded pryde and proud sub- mission. Still dreading death, when she had marked long. Her hart gan melt in great compassion ; And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. ' The Lyon, Lord of everie beast in field,' Quoth she, 'his princely puissance doth abate, And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, ForgetfuU of the hungry rage, which late Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : But he, my Lyon, and my noble Lord, How does he find in cruell hart to hate Her, that him lov'd, and ever most adord As the God of my life ? why hath he me abhord ? ' VIII. Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint. Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood ; And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint. The kingly beast upon her gazing stood : With pittie calmd downe fell his angry mood. At last, in close hart shutting up her payne. Arose the virgin, borne of heavenly brood, And to her snowy Palfrey got agayne. To seeke her strayed Champion if she might attayne. The Lyon would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong gard Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward ; And, when she wakt, he way ted diligent. With humble service to her will prepard : From her fay re eyes he tooke commande- ment. And ever by her lookes conceived her in- tent. Long she thus travelled through deserts wyde. By which she thought her wandring knight sliold pas, Yet never shew of living wight espyde ; Till that at length she found the troden gras. In which the tract of peoples footing was, Under the steepe foot of a mountaine bore : The same she followes, till at last she has A damzel spyde, slow footing her before, That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore. 30 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. To whom approcliiug she to her gan call, To weet if dwelling place were nigh at hand ; But the rude wench her answerd nought at all: She could not heare^ nor speake, nor understand ; Till, seeing by her side the Lyon stand, With suddeine feare her pitcher downe she threw, And fled away : for never in that land Face of fayre Lady she before did vew, And that dredd Lyons looke her cast in deadly hew. Full fast she fled, neeverlookt behynd, As if her life upon the wager lay ; And home she came, whereas her mother blynd Sate in eternall night: nought could she say ; But, suddeine catching hold, did her dis- may With quaking hands, and other signes of feare : Who, full of ghastly fright and cold affray, Gan shut the dore. By this arrived there Dame Una, weary Dame, and entrance did requere : Which when none yielded, her unruly Page With his rude clawes the wicket open rent. And let her in ; where, of his cruell rage Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonish- ment, Shee found them both in darksome corner pent; Where that old woman day and night did pray Upon her beads, devoutly penitent: Nine hundred Pater nosters every day, And thrise nine hundred Aves she was wont to say. And to augment her painefull penaunce more, Thrise every weeke in ashes shee did sitt, And next her wrinkled skin rough sacke- cloth wore, And thrise three times did fast from any bitt ; But now, for feare her beads she did for- gett: Whose needlesse dread for to remove away, Faire Una framed words and count'naunce fitt; Which hardly doen, at length she gan them pray. That in their cotage small that night she rest her may. The day is spent; and commethdrowsie night, When every creature shrowded is in sleepe. Sad Una downe her laies in weary plight. And at her feete the Lyon watch doth keepe : In stead of rest she does lament and weepe, For the late losse of her deare loved knight. And sighes, and grones, and evermore does steepe Her tender brest in bitter teares all night ; All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light. XVI. Now when Aldeboran was mounted hye Above the shinie Cassiopeias chaire, And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lye One knocked at the dore, and in would fare : He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware. That ready entraunce was not at his call ; For on his backe a heavy load he bare Of nightly stelths, and pillage severall, Which he had got abroad by purchas crimiuall. He was, to weete, a stout and sturdy thiefe. Wont to robbe churches of their orna- ments, And poore mens boxes of their due relief e, Which given was to them for good intents : The holy Saints of their rich vestiments He did disrobe, Avhen all men carelesse slept. And spoild the Priests of their habili- ments ; Whiles none the holy things in safety kept. Then he by conning sleights in at the window crept. XVIII. And all that he by right or wrong could find. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 31 Unto this house he brought, aud did bestow Upon the daughter of this woman blind, Abessa, daughter of Corceca slow, With whom he whoredome usd, that few did know, And fed her fatt with feast of offerings. And plenty, which in all the land did grow: Ne spared he to give her gold and rings ; And now he to her brought part of his stolen things. Thus, long the dore with rage and threats he bett, Yet of those fearfull women none durst rize, The Lyon frayed them, him in to lett. He would no lenger stay him to advize. But open breakes the dore in furious wize. And entring is, when that disdainful! beast, Encountring fierce, him suddein doth sur- prize ; And, seizing cruell claw^es on trembling brest, Under his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest. Him booteth not resist, nor succour call, His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand ; Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small, And quite dismembred hath : the thirsty land Dronke up his life ; his corse left on the strand. His fearef nil f reends weare out the wof ull night, Ne dare to weepe,nor seeme to understand The heavie hap which on them is alight ; Affraid least to themselves the like mis- happen might. Now when broad day the world discov- ered has. Up Una rose, up rose the lyon eke ; And on their former journey forward pas, In waies unknowne, her wandring knight to seeke. With paines far passing that long wan- dring Greeke, That for his love refused deitye. Such were the labours of this Lady meeke, Still seeking him, that from her still did flye; Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nye. Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull twayne. That blind old woman, and her daughter dear. Came forth ; and, finding Kirkrapine there slayne. For anguish great they gan to rend their heare. And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare : And when they both had wept and wayld their fill. Then forth they ran, like two amazed deare, Halfe mad through malice and revenging will. To follow her that was the causer of their ill. Whome overtaking, they gan loudly bray, With hollow houling, and lamenting cry ; Shamefully at her rayling all the way. And her accusing of dishonesty. That was the flowre of faith and chastity : And still, amidst her rayling, she did pray That plagues, and mischiefes, and long misery. Might fall on her, and follow all the way, And that in endlesse error she might ever stray. XXIV. But, when she saw her prayers nought prevaile, Shee backe retourned with some labour lost; And in the way, as shee did weepe and waile, Aknight hermett in mighty armesembost. Yet knight was not for all his bragging host; But subtill Archimag, that Una sought By traynes into new troubles to have toste : Of that old woman tidings he besought. If that of such a Lady shee could tellen ought. XXV. Therewith she gan her passion to renew. And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare, Saying, that harlott she too lately knew, That causd her shed so many a bitter teare ; And so forth told the story of her feare. 32 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. iNIuch seemed he to moue her haplesse chaunce, And after for that Lady did inquere ; Which being taught, he forward gau advaunce His fair enehaunted steed, and eke his charmed lauuce. XXVI. Ere long he came where Una traveild slow, And that wilde champion wayting her besyde ; Whome seeing such, for dread hee durst not show Him selfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde Unto an hil ; from whence when she him spyde, By his like seeming shield her knight by name She weend it was, and towards him gan ride : Approaching nigh she wist it was the same ; And with faire fearefull humblesse to- w^ards him shee came : XXVII. And weeping said, ' Ah, my long lacked Lord, Where have ye bene thus long out of my sight ? Much feared I to have bene quite abhord. Or ought have done, that ye displeasen might. That should as death unto my deare heart light : For since mine eie your joyous sight did mis. My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse night. And eke my night of death the shadow is ; But welcome now, my light, and shining lampe of blis ! ' XXVIII. He thereto meeting said, 'My dearest Dame, Far be it from your thought, and fro my wil, To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame, As you to leave that have me loved stil, And chose in Faery court, of meere good- wil, AVhere noblest knights were to be found on earth. The earth shall sooner leave her kindly skil To bring forth fruit, and make eternal derth, Then I leave you, my liefe, yborn of hev- euly berth. XXIX. 'And sooth to say, why I lefte you so long. Was for to seeke adventure in straunge place ; Where, Archimago said, a felon strong To many knights did daily worke disgrace ; But knight he now shall never more de- face: Good cause of mine excuse, that mote ye please Well to accept, and evermore embrace My faithf ull service, that by land and seas Have vowd you to defend. Now then, your plaint appease.' XXX. His lovely words her seemd due recom- pence Of all her passed paines : one loving howre For many yeares of sorrow can dispence ; A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre. Shee has forgott how many a woeful stowre For him she late endurd ; she speakes no more Of past: true is, that true love hath no powre To looken backe ; his eies be fixt before. Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore. , ,• , •. • / XXXI. " Much like, as when the beaten marinere. That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide, Of te soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare ; And long time having taud his ta\\niey hide With blustring breath of Heaven, that none can bide, And scorching flames of fierce Orious hound ; Soone as the port from far he has espide, His chearfull whistle merily doth sound, And Nereus crownes with cups ; his mates him pledg around. y XXXII. Such joy made Una, when her knight she found ; And eke th' enchaunter joyous seemde no lesse Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 33 His ship far come from watrie wilder- nesse ; He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse. So forth they past ; and all the way they spent Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse, In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment ; Who told her all that fell, in journey as she went. XXXIII. They had not ridden far, when they might see One pricking towards them with hastie heat, Full strongly armd, and on a courser free That through his tiersnesse fomed all with sweat, And the sharpe yrou did for anger eat, When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side : His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde ; And on his shield Sansloy in bloody lines was dyde. XXXIV. When nigh he drew unto this gentle pay re. And saw the Red-crosse which the knight did beare, He burnt in fire ; and gan eftsoones pre- pare Himselfe to batteill with his couched speare. Loth was that other, and did faint through feare. To taste th' untryed dint of deadly Steele : But yet his Lady did so well him cheare. That hope of new good hap he gan to f eele ; So bent his speare, and spurd his horse with yron heele. But that proud Paynim forward came so ferce And full of wrath, that, with his sharp- head speare, Through vainly crossed shield he quite did perce ; And, had his staggering steed not shronke for feare, Through shield and body eke he should him beare : Yet, so great was the puissance of his push. That from his sadle quite he did him beare. He, tombling rudely dovvne, to ground did rush. And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush. Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed. He to him lept, in minde to reave his life, And proudly said ; ' Lo ! there the worthie meed Of him that slew Sansfoy with bloody knife : Henceforth his ghost, freed from repining strife, In peace may passen over Lethe lake; When mourning altars, purgd with eni- mies life, The black infernall Furies doen aslake : Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take.' Therewith in haste his helmet gan un- lace. Till Una cride, ' O ! hold that heavie hand, Deare Sir, what ever that thou be in place : Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand Now at thy mercy : Mercy not withstand ; For he is one the truest knight alive. Though conquered now he lye on lowly land ; And, whilest him fortune favourd, fay re did thrive In bloudy field ; therefore, of life him not deprive.' XXXVIII. Her piteous wordes might not abate his rage, But, rudely rending up his helmet, would Have slayne him streight; but when he sees his age. And hoarie head of Archimago old, His hasty hand he doth amased hold, And halfe ashamed wondred at the sight: For the old man well knew he, though untold, In charmes and magick to have wondrous might, Ne ever wont in field, ne in round lists, to fight : XXXIX. And said, ' Why Archimago, lucklesse syre. What doe I see? what hard mishap is this, That hath thee hether brought to taste mine yre? Or thine the fault, or mine the error is, In stead of foe to wound my friend amis? ' He answered nought, but in a traunce still lay. And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his 34 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. The cloude of death did sit. Which doen away, He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay : XL. But to the virgin comes ; who all this while Amased stands, her selfe so mockt to see By him, who has the guerdon of his guile, For so misfeigning her true knight to bee: Yet is she now in more perplexitie, Left in the hand of that same Paynim bold. From whom her booteth not at all to flie : Who, by her cleanly garment catching hold, Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage to behold. XLI. But her fiers servant, full of kingly aw And high disdaine, whenas his soveraine Dame So rudely handled by her foe he saw. With gaping jawes full greedy at him came. And, ramping on his shield, did weene the same Have reft away with his sharp rending clawes : But he was stout, and lust did now inflame His corage more, that from his griping pawes He hath his shield redeemd, and forth his swerd he drawes. XLII. O! then, too weake and feeble was the forse Of salvage beast his puissance to with- stand ; For he was strong, and of so mightie corse. As ever wielded speare in warlike hand, And feates of armes did wisely under- stand. Eft soones he perced through his chaufed chest With thrilling point of deadly yron brand. And launcht his Lordly hart : with death opprest He ror'd aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest. Wlio now is left to keepe the forlorne maid From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will? Her faithfull gard remov'd, her hope dis- maid. Her selfe a yielded pray to save or spill : He now, Lord of the field, his pride to fill, With foule reproches and disdaineful spight Her vildly entertaines; and, will or nill, Beares her away upon his courser light : Her prayers nought prevaile, his rage is more of might, XLIV. And all the way, with great lamenting paine, And piteous plaintes, she filleth his dull eares. That stony hart could riven have in twaine ; And all the way she wetts with flowing teares ; But he, enrag'd with rancor, nothing heares. Her servile beast yet would not leave her so. But followes her far off, ne ought he feares To be partaker of her wandring woe ; More mild in beastly kind then that her beastly foe. CANTO IV. To sinfull hous of Prvde Diiessa Guydes the faithfull knight ; Where, brothers death to wreak, Sans.joy Doth chaleng him to fight. YouNO knight whatever, that dost armes prof esse, And through long labours huntest after fame, Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse, In choice, and chaunge of thy deare-loved Dame; Least thou of her believe too lightly blame. And rash misweening doe thy hart re- move : For unto knight there is no greater shame Then lightnesse, and inconstancie in love : That doth this Redcrosse knights en- sample plainly prove. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 35 Who, after that he had faire Una lorne, Through light misdeeming of her loialtie ; A.ud false Duessa in her sted had home, 'ailed Fidess', and so supposd to be. Long with her traveild ; till at last they see A goodly building bravely garnished ; The house of mightie Prince it seemd to be, And towards it a broad high way that led, All bare through peoples feet which thether travelled. Great troupes of people traveild theth- erward Both day and night, of each degree and place ; But few returned, having scaped hard. With balefull beggery, or foule disgrace; Which ever after in most wretched case, Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay. Thether Duessa badd him bend his pace. For she is wearie of the toilsom way. And also nigh consumed is the lingring day. A stately Pallace built of squared bricke, Which cunningly was without morter laid, Whose \Yals were high, but nothing strong nor thick. And golden foile all over them displaid, That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid : High lifted up were many loftie towres, And goodly galleries far over laid. Full of faire windowes and delightful botvres : And on the top a Diall told the timely howres. It was a goodly heape for to behould, And spake the praises of the workmans Witt; But full great pittie, that so faire a mould Did on so weake foundation ever sitt : For oil a sandie hill, that still did flitt And fall away, it mounted was full hie. That every breath of heaven shaked itt : And all the hinder partes, that few could spie, W^ere ruinous and old, but painted cun- ningly. Arrived there, they passed in forth right; For still to all the gates stood open wide : Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight, Cald Malvenu, who entrance none denide : Thence to the hall, which was on every side With rich array and costly arras dight. Infinite sortes of people did abide There waiting long, to win the wished sight Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright. By them they passe, all gazing on them round, And to the Presence mount ; whose glori- ous vew Their frayle amazed senses did confound : In living Princes court none ever knew Such endlesse richesse, and so sumpteous shew ; Ne Persia selfe, the nourse of pompous pride, Like ever saw. And there a noble crew Of Lords and Ladies stood on every side. Which with their i^resence fayre the place much beautifide. ' High al)ove all a cloth of State was spred. And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day; On which there sate, most brave embel- lished With royall robes and gorgeous array, A mayden Queene that shone as Titans i-ay. In glistring gold and perelesse pretious stone ; Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne, As envying her selfe, that too exceeding shone : )^ Exceeding shone, like Phoebus faj^rest childe, That did presume his fathers fyrie wayne. And flaming mouthes of steedes, un- wonted wilde. Through highest heaven with weaker hand to rayne : Proud of such glory and advancement vayne. While flashing beames do daze his feu: 1ft eyen, He leaves the welkin way most beaten playne, 36 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And, rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen With fire not made to burne, but fayrely for to shyne. >o proud she shyned in her princely state, Looking to heaven, for earth she did dis- dayne. And sitting high, for lowly she did hate : Lo! underneath her seornefull feete was layne A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous trayne ; And in her hand she held a mirrhour bright. Wherein her face she often vewed fayne. And in her selfe-lov'd semblance took de- light; For she was wondrous faire, as any living wight. XI. Of griesly Pluto she the daughter was, And sad Proserpina, the Queene of hell ; Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth to pas That parentage, with pride so did she swell ; And thundring Jove, that high in heaven doth dwell And wield the world, she claymed for her syre, Or if that any else did Jove excell ; For to the highest she did still aspyre. Or, if ought higher were than that, did it desyre. XII. And proud Lucifera men did her call. That made her selfe a Queene, and crownd to be; Yet rightf ull kingdome she had none at all, Ne heritage of native soveraintie ; But did usurpe with wrong and tyrannic Upon the scepter which she now did hold : Ne ruld her Realme with lawes, but polli- cie, And strong advizement of six wisards old. That, with their counsels bad, her king- dome did uphold. Soone as the Elfin knight in presence came. And false Duessa, seeming Lady fayre, A gentle Huslier, Vanitie by name. Made rowme, ? -J passage for them did prepaire : So goodly brought them to the lowest stay re Of her high throne ; where they, on hum- ble knee Making obeysaunce, did the cause declare, Why they were come her roiall state to ^ see, To prove the wide report of her great Majestee. XIV. With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so lowe, She thancked them in her disdainefull wise ; Ne other grace vouchsafed them to showe Of Princesse worthy; scarse them bad arise. Her Lordes and Ladies all this while de- vise Themselves to setten forth to straungers sight : Some frounce their curled heare in courtly guise ; Some prancke their ruffes ; and others trimly dight Their gay attyre ; each others greater pride does spight. XV. Goodly they all that knight doe enter- tayne. Right glad with him to have increast their crew ; But to Duess' each one himselfe did payne All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew, For in that court whylome her well they knew : Yet the stout Faery mongst the middest crowd Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew. And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd. That to strange knight no better counte- • nance allowd. XVI. Suddein upriseth from her stately place The roiall Dame, and for her coche doth call: All hurtlen forth ; and she, with princely pace, As faire Aurora in her purple pall Out of the East the dawning day doth call. So forth she comes ; her brightnes brode doth blaze. The heapes of people, thronging in the hall. Doe ride each other upon her to gaze : Her glorious glitteraud light doth all mens eies amaze. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 37 So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme, Adorned all with gold and girlonds gay, That seemd as fresh as Flora in her prime ; And strove to match, in roiall rich array, Great Junoes golden chayre ; the which, they say, The gods stand gazing on, when she does ride To Joves high hous through heavens bras- paved way, Drawne of fayre Pecocks, that excell in pride, And full of Argus eyes their tayles dis- predden wide. But this was drawne of six unequall beasts. On which her six sage Counsellours did ryde. Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts "With like conditions to their kindes ap- ply de : Of which the first, that all the rest did guyde, Was sluggish Idlenesse, the nourse of sin ; Upon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde, "Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin. Like to an holy Monck, the service to begin. And in his hand his Portesse still he bare. That much was worne, but therein little redd ; For of devotion he had little care. Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dales dedd : Scarse could he once uphold his heavie hedd, To looken whether it were night or day. May seeme the wayne was very evill ledd, "When such an one had guiding of the way, That knew not whether right he went, or else astray. From worldly cares himselfe he did esloyne. And greatly shunned manly exercise ; From everie worke he chalenged essoyne. For contemplation sake : yet otherwise His life he led in lawlesse riotise, By which he grew to grievous malady ; For in his lustlesse limbs, through evill guise, A shaking fever raignd continually. Such one was Idlenesse, first of this com- pany. XXI. And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne. His belly was npblowne with luxury. And eke with tatuesse swollen were his eyne; And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne "With which he swallowed up excessive feast, For want whereof poore people oft did pyne: And all the way, most like a brutish beast, He spued up his gorge, that all did him deteast. XXII. In greene vine leaves he was right fitly clad. For other clothes he could not weare for heate ; And on his head an yvie girland had. From under which fast trickled dowiie the sweat. Still as he rode he someM^hat still did eat, And in his hand did beare a bouzing can. Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat His dronken corse he scarse upholden can: In shape and life more like a monster then a man. xxni. Unfit he was for any worldly thing, And eke unhable once to stirre or go ; Not meet to be of counsell to a king. Whose mind in meat and drinke was drowned so. That from his f rend he seeldome knew his fo. Full of diseases was his carcas blew. And a dry dropsie through his flesh did flow, Which by misdiet daily greater grew. Such one was Gluttony, the second of that crew. XXIV. And next to him rode lustfull Lechery Upon a bearded Gote, whose rugged heare, And whally eies (the signe of gelosy,) Was like the person selfe whom he did beare : Who rough, and blacke, and filthy, did ap- peare, Unseemely man to please faire Ladies eye ; Yet he of f-adies ol\ jvas loved deare, When faire/ faces were bid standen by : O! who does know the bent of womeus fantasy ? 38 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I, In a greene gowiie he clothed was full faire, Which underneath did hide his filthinesse ; And in his hand a burning hart he bare, Full of vaine follies and new fanglenesse : For he was false, and fraught witli fickle- nesse, And learned had to love with secret lookes ; And well could daunce, and sing with rue- f ulnesse ; And fortunes tell, and read in loving bookes, And thousand other waies to bait his fleshly hookes. XXVI. Inconstant man, that loved all he saw, And lusted after all that he did love ; Ne would his looser life be tide to law. But joyd weake wemens hearts to tempt, and prove. If from their loiall loves he might them move: Which lewdnes fild him with reprochfull pain Of that foule evill, which all men reprove, That rotts the marrow, and consumes the braine. Such one was Lechery, the third of all this traine. XXVII. And greedy Avarice by him did ride, Uppon a Camell loaden all with gold ; Two iron coffers hong on either side. With precious metall full as they might hold; And in his lap an heap of coine he told ; For of his wicked pelfe his God he made, And unto hell him selfe for money sold : Accui'sed usury was all his trade. And right and wrong ylike in equall bal- launce waide. XXVIII. His life was nigh unto deaths dore yplaste ; And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes, hee ware ; Ne scarse good morsell all his life did taste. But both from backe and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and richesse to compare : Yet childe ne kinsman living had he none To leave them to : but thorough daily care To get, and nightly feare to lose hisowne. He led a wretched life, unto himselfe un- knowne. Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suftise ; Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store ; Whose need had end, but no end covetise ; Whose welth was want, whose plenty made him pore ; Who had enough, yett wished ever more ; A vile disease : and eke in foote and hand A grievous gout tormented him full sore, That well he could not touch, nor goe, nor stand. Such one was Avarice, the fourth of this faire band. And next to him malicious Envy rode Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still did chaw Between his caukred teeth a venemous tode. That all the poison ran about his chaw ; But inwardly he chawed his owne maw At neighbours welth, that made him ever sad, For death it was, when any good he saw ; And wept, that cause of weeping none he had; But when he heard of harme he wexed wondrous glad. All in a kirtle of discolourd say He clothed was, ypaynted full of eies; And in his bosome secretly there lay An hateful! Snake, the which his taile up- tyes In many folds, and mortall sting implyes. Still as he rode he gnasht his teeth to see Those heapes of gold with griple Covetyse; And grudged at the great felicitee Of proud Lucifera, and his owne com- panee. XXXII. He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds. And him no lesse, that any like did use ; And who with gratious bread the hungry feeds, His almes for want of faith he doth ac- cuse. So every good to bad he doth abuse ; And eke the verse of famous Poets witt He does backebite, and spightfuU poison spues From leprous mouth on all that ever writt. Such one vile Envy was, that fifte in row did sitt. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 39 And him beside rides fierce revenging Wrath, Upon a Lion, loth for to be led ; And in his hand a burning brond he hath. The which he brandisheth about his hed : His eiesdid hurle forth sparcles fiery red. And stared sterne on all that him beheld ; As ashes pale of hew, and seeming ded ; And on his dagger still his hand he held, Trembling through hasty rage when choler in him sweld. His ruffin raiment all was staiud with blood Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent. Through unadvized rashnes woxen wood ; For of his hands he had no governement, Ne car'd for blood in his avengement : But, when the furious fitt was overpast, His cruel facts he often would repent ; Yet, wilfull man, he never would forecast How many mischieves should ensue his heedlesse hast. XXXV. Full many mischiefes follow cruell Wrath : Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife, Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath. Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife. And fretting griefe, the enemy of life: All these, and many evils moe haunt ire. The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging rife. The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces fire. Such one was Wrath, the last of this un- godly tire. XXXVI. And, after all, upon the wagon beame, Rode Sathan with a smarting whip in hand, With which he forward lasht the laesy teme. So oft as Slowth still in the mire did stand. Huge routs of people did about them band, Showting for joy ; and still before their way A foggy mist had covered all the land ; And, underneath their feet, all scattered lay Dead sculls and bones of men whose life had gone astray. So forth they marchen in this goodly sort. To take the solace of the open aire, And in fresh flo wring fields themselves to sport : Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire. The foule Duessa, next unto the chaire Of proud Lucifer', as one of the traine : But that good knight would not so nigh repaire. Him selfe estraunging from their joyaunce vaine, Whose fellowship seemd far uufitt for warlike swaine. So, having solaced themselves a space With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed, They backe retourned to the princely Place ; Whereas an errant knight inarmesycled. And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red. Was writt Scuisjoy, they new arrived find: Enflam'd with fury and fiers hardy hed. He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts unkind, And nourish bloody vengeaunce in his bitter mind. Who, when the shamed shield of slaine Sansfoy He spide with that same Faery champions page, Bewraying him that did of late destroy His eldest brother ; burning all with rage, He to him lept, and that same envious gage Of victors glory from him snacht away : But th' Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage, Disdaind to loose the meed he wonne in fray; And, him rencountring fierce, reskewd the noble pray. Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily. Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne. And clash their shields, and shake their swerds on by, That with their sturre they troubled all the traine ; 40 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Till that great Queeue, upon eternall palne Of high displeasure that ensewen might, Commaunded them their fury to refraine ; And, if that either to that shield had right. In equall lists they should the morrow next it fight. ' All dearest Dame,' quoth then the Pay- nim bold, ' Pardon the error of enraged wight, Whome great griefe made forgett the raines to hold Of reasons rule, to see this recreaunt knight. No knight, but treachour full of false despight And shameful treason, who through guile hath slayu The prowest knight that ever field did fight, Even stout Sansfoy, (O who can then refrayn?) Whose shield he beares renverst, the more to heap disdayn. XLII. ' And, to augment the glorie of his guile. His dearest love, the faire Fidessa, loe! Is there possessed of the traytour vile ; Who reapes the haffvest sowen by his foe, Sowen in bloodie field, and bought with woe: That brothers hand shall dearely well req night. So be, O Queene! you equall favour showe.' Him litle answerd th' angry Elfin knight; He never meant with words, but swords, to plead his right : But threw his gauntlet, as a sacred pledge His cause in combat the next day to try : So been they parted both, with harts on edge To be aveng'd each on his eniray. That night they pas in joy and jollity. Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall; For Steward was excessive Gluttony, Tiiat of his plenty poured forth to all : Which doen, the Chamberlain, Slowth, did to rest them call. Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd Her coleblacke curtein over brightest skye; The warlike youthes, on dayntie couches layd. Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish eye, To muse on meanes of hoped victory. But whenas Morpheus had with leaden mace Arrested all that courtly company. Uprose Duessa from her resting place. And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace. Whom broad awake she findes, in troublous fitt, Fore-casting how his foe he might annoy ; And him amoves with speaches seeming fitt: ' Ah deare Sansjoy, next dearest to Sansfoy, Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new Joyous to see his ymage in mine eye, Aiid greevd to thinke how foe did him destroy. That was the flowre of grace and chevalrye ; Lo ! his Fidessa, to thy secret faith I flye.' XLVI. With gentle wordes he can her fayrely greet. And bad say on the secrete of her hart : Then, sighing soft; 'I learne that litle sweet Oft tempred is,' (quoth she,) ' with muchell smart: For since my brest was launcht with lovely dart Of deare Sansfoy, I never joyed howre. But in eternall woes my weaker hart Have wasted, loving him with all my powre, And for his sake have felt full many an heavie stowre. XLVII. ' At last, when perils all I weened past. And hop'd to reape the crop of all my care, Into new woes unweeting I was cast By this false faytor, who unworthie ware His worthie shield, whom he with guile- full snare THE FAERIE QUEEN E, 41 Entrapped slew, and brought to shamef uU grave : Me, silly maid, away with him he bare, And ever since hath kept in darksom cave, For that I would not yeeld that to Sans- foy I gave. XLVIII. ' But since faire Sunne hath'sperst that lowring clowd. And to my loathed life now shewes some light, Under your beames I will me safely shrowd From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight : To you th' inheritance belonges by right Of brothers prayse, to you eke louges his love. Let not his love, let not his restlesse spright. Be unreveng'd, that calles to you above From wandring Stygian shores, where it doth endlesse move.' Thereto said he, ' Faire Dame, be nought dismaid For sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone : Ne yet of present perill be affraid, For needlesse feare did never vantage none; And helplesse hap it bootethnot to mone. Dead is Sansfoy, his vitall paines are past. Though greeved ghost for vengeance deep do grone : He lives that shall him pay his dewties last. And guiltie Eltin blood shall sacrifice in hast.' L. ' O ! but I feare the fickle f reakes,' (quoth shee) ' Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in field.' ' Why, dame,' (quoth he) ' what oddes can ever bee, Where both doe fight alike, to win or yield ? ' ' Yea, but,' (quoth she) ' he beares a charmed shield. And eke enchauuted armes, that none can perce ; Ne none can wound the man that does them wield.' ' Charmd or enchaunted,' auswerd he then ferce, ' I no whitt reck ; ne you the like need to reherce. LI. * But, faire Fidessa, sithens fortunes guile, Or enimiespowre, hath nowcaptivedyou, Returue from whence ye came, and rest a while, Till morrow next that I the Elfe subdew, And with Sansfoyes dead dowry you endew.' 'Ah me! that is a double death,' (she said) ' With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew, Where ever yet I be, my secret aide Shall follow you.' So, passing forth, she him obaid. CANTO V. The faithful! knight in equall field Subdewes his faithlesse foe ; Whom false Duessa saves, and for His cure to hell does goe. The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought, And is withchilde of glorious great intent, Can never rest, uutill it forth have brought Th'eternall brood of glorie excellent : Such restlesse passion did all night torment The flaming corage of that Faery knight. Devizing how that doughtie turnament With greatest honour he atchieven might : Still did he wake, and still did watch for dawning light. II. At last, the golden Oi'ientall gate Of greatest heaven gau to open fayre ; And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie hay re. And hurld his glistring beams through gloomy ayre. Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiv'd, streight way, He started up, and did him selfe prepayre In sunbright armes, and battailous array ; X}'^- >j\^>\^ \AA^ 42 ^^•- THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. For with that Pagan proud lie combatt will that day. And forth he comes into the commune hall; Where earely walte him many a gazing eye, To weet what end to straunger knights may fall. There many Minstrales maken melody, To drive away the dull melancholy ; And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord Can tune their timely voices cunningly; And many Chroniclers, that can record Old loves, and warres for Ladies doeu by many a Lord. Soone after comes the cruell Saraziu, In woven Maile all armed warily; And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin Does care for looke of living creatures eye. They bring them wines of Greece and Araby, And daintie spices fetch from furthest Ynd, To kindle heat of corage privily; And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd T'observe the sacred lawes of amies that are assynd. V. At last forth comes that far renowmed Queene : With royall pomp and princely majestie She is ybrought unto a paled greene, And placed under stately canapee. The warlike feates of both those knights to see. On th' other side in all mens open vew Duessa placed is, and on a tree Sausfoy his shield is hangd with bloody hew; Both those the lawrell girlonds to the vic- tor dew. VI. A shrilling trompett sownded from on hye, And unto battaill bad them selves ad- dresse : Their shining shieldes about their wrestes they tye, And burning blades about their heades doe blesse, The instruments of wrath and heavinesse. With greedy force each other doth assay le. And strike so fiercely, that they do "im- presse Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle : The yron walles to ward their blowes are weak and fraile. VII, The Sarazin was stout and wondrous And heaped blowes like yron hammers great ; For after blood and vengeance he did long: The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat, And doubled strokes, like dreaded thun- ders threat ; For all for praise and honour he did fight. Both stricken stryke, and beaten both doe beat. That from their shields forth flyeth firie light. And hewen helmets deepe shew marks of cithers might. ./ VIII. .'"So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right. As when a Gryfon, seized of his pray, A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight, Through widest ayre making his ydle way, That would his rightfull ravine rend away: With hideous horror both together smight. And souee so sore that they the heavens affray ; The wise Southsayer, seeing so sad sight, Th' amazed vulgar telles of warres and mortall fight. So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right, And each to deadly shame would drive his foe: The cruell Steele so greedily doth bight In tender flesh, that streames of blood down flow ; With which the armes, that earst so bright did show. Into a pure verraillion now are dyde. Great ruth in all the gazers harts did grow, Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde. That victory they dare not wish to either side. X. At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye. CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 43 His suddein eye flaming with wrathfull fyre, Upon his brothers shield, which hong thereby : Therewith redoubled was his raging yre, And said ; ' Ah ! wretched sonne of wof uU syre, Doest thou sit wayling by blacke Stygian lake, Whylest here thy shield is hangd for vic- tors hyre ? And, sluggish german, doest thy forces slake To after-send his foe, that him may over- take? XI. 'Goe, caytive Elfe, him quickly over- take, And soone redeeme from his long-wan- dring woe : Goe, guiltie ghost, to him my message make, That I his shield have quit from dying foe.' Therewith upon his crest he stroke him so. That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall: End of the doubtfuU battaile deemed tho The lookers on ; and lowd to him gan call The false Duessa, ' Thine the shield, and I, and all ! ' XII. Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake, Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake ; And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake, The creeping deadly cold away did shake : Tho mov'd with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake, Of all attonce he cast avengd to be. And with so' exceeding furie at him strake, That forced him to stoupe upon his knee : Had he not stouped so, he should have cloven bee. XIII. And to him said ; ' Goe now, proud Mis- creant, Thyselfe thy message do to german deare ; Alone he, wandring, thee too long doth want: Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.' Therewith his heavie hand he high gan reare, Him to have slaine; when lo! a darke- some clowd Upon him fell : he no where doth appeare, But vanisht is. The Elfe him calls alowd. But answer none receives; the darknes him does shrowd. In haste Duessa from her place arose. And to him running said; 'O! prowest knight, That ever Ladie to her love did chose, Let now abate the terrour of your might. And quench the flame of furious despight, And bloodie vengeance: lo! th' infernall powres, Covering your foe with cloud of deadly night, Have borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres: The conquest yours ; I yours; the shield, and glory yours.' Not all so satisfide, with greedy eye He sought all round about, his thristy blade To bathe in blood of faithlesse enimy ; Who all that while lay hid in secret shade. He standes amazed how he thence should fade: At last the trumpets Triumph sound on hie ; And running Heralds humble homage made. Greeting him goodly with new victorie, And to him brought the shield, the cause of enmitie. Wherewith he goeth to that soveraine Queen e ; And falling her before on lowly knee, To her makes present of his service scene : Which she accepts with thankes and goodly gree. Greatly advauncing his gay chevalree : So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight, W^hom all the people followe with great glee, Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight, That all the ayre it fills, and flyes to heaven bright. Home is he brought, and layd in sump- tous bed, Where many skilfull leaches him abide To salve his hurts, that yet still freshly bled. In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide. And softly gan embalme on everie side : And all the while most heavenly melody About the bed sweet musicke did divide, 44 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I, Him to beguile of griefe and agony ; ud all the while Duessa wept full bitterly. XVIII. As when a wearie traveller, that strayes By muddy shore of broad seven-mouthed Nile, Unweetiug of the perillous wandring wayes, Doth meete a eruell craftie Crocodile, Which, in false griefe hyding his harme- full guile, Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares ; The foolish man, that pities all this while His mournefull plight, is swallowed up unwares, Forgetfull of his owne that miudes an others cares. So wept Duessa untill eventyde, That shyning lampes in Joves high house ^_^^^ were light ; Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide. But comes unto the place where th' He- then knight. In slombring swownd, nigh voyd of vitall spright. Lay cover'd with inchaunted cloud all day: Whom when she found, as she him left in plight. To wayle his wofull case she would not stay, But to the Easterne coast of heaven makes speedy way : Where griesly Night, with visage deadly sad, That Phoebus chearefull face durst never vew, And in a foule blacke pitchy mantle clad. She findes forth comming from her dark- some mew. Where she all day did hide her hated hew. Before the dore her yron charet stood, Already harnessed for journey new, And cole blacke steedes yborne of hellish brood, That on their rusty bits did champ as they were wood. ^ XXI. Who when she saw Duessa, sunny bright, Adornd with gold and jewels shining cleare. She greatly grew amazed at the sight, And th' unacquainted light began to feare. For never did such brightnes there ap- peare ; And would have backe retyred to her cave, Untill the witches speach she gan to heare. Saying; 'Yet, O thou dreaded Dame! I crave Abyde, till I have told the message which I have.' XXII. She stayd ; and foorth Duessa gan pro- ceede : ' O ! thou most auncient Grandmother of all. More old then Jove, whom thou at first didst breede, Or that great house of Gods cfelestiall. Which wast begot in Daemogorgons hall. And sawst the secrets of the world un- made; Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall, AVith Elfin sword most shamefully be- trade ? Lo ! where the stout Sansjoy doth sleepe in deadly shade. XXIII. before, I saw with bitter ' And him eyes The bold Sansfoy shrinck underneath his speare ; And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes. Nor way Id of friends, nor layd on gron- ing beare. That whylome was to me too dearely deare. O ! what of gods then boots it to be borne, If old Aveugles sonnes so evill heare ? Or who shall not great Nightes children scorne, When two of three her Nephewes are so fowle forlorne? XXIV. * Up, then ! up, dreary Dame, of dark- nes Queene! Go, gather up the reliques of thy race ; Or else goe them avenge, and let be seene That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place. And can the children of fayi*e light de- face.' Her feeling speaches some compassion mov'd CANTO V.J THE FAERIE QUEENE. 45 In hart, and chaunge in that great mo- thers face : Yet pitty in her hart was never prov'd Till then, for evermore she hated, never lov'd: And said, 'Deare daughter, rightly may I rew The fall of famous children borne of mee. And good successes which their foes ensew : But who can turne the stream of destinee, Or breake the chayne of strong neces- sitee. Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat ? The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see, And by my ruines thinkes to make them great : To make one great by others losse is bad excheat. XXVI. 'Yet shall they not escape so freely all, For some shall pay the price of others guilt; And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall, Shall with his owne blood price that he hath spilt. But what are thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?' * I, that do seeme not I, Duessa ame,' Quoth she, 'how ever now, in garments gilt And gorgeous gold arayd, I to thee came, Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.' XXVII. Then, bowing downe her aged backe, she kist The wicked witch, saying, ' In that fayre face The false resemblaunce of Deceipt, I wist, Did closely lurke ; yet so true-seeming grace It carried, that I scarse in darksome place Could it discerne, though I the mother bee Of falshood, an roote of Duessaes race. O welcome, chi.u! whom I have longd to see, And now have scene un wares. Lo ! now Igoe with thee.' XXVIII. Then to her yron wagon she betakes, And with her beares the fowle welfavourd witch. Through mirkesome aire her ready way she makes: Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch, And two were browne, yet each to each • unlich. Did softly swim away, ne ever stamp Unlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch ; Then, foming tarre, their bridles they would champ. And trampling the fine element would fiercely ramp. XXIX. So well they sped, that they be come at length Unto the place whereas the Paynim lay. Devoid of outward sence and native strength, Coverd with charmed cloud from vew of day, And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray. His cruell wounds, with cruddy bloud congeald, They binden up so wisely as they may, And handle softly, till they can be heald : So lay him in her charett, close in night conceald. And, all the while she stood upon the ground, The wakeluU dogs did never cease to bay. As giving warning of th' unwonted sound , With which her yron wheeles did them affray, And her darke griesly looke them much dismay : The messenger of death, the ghasty owle, With drery shriekes did also her bewray ; And hungry wolves continually did howle At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle. Thence turning backe in silence softe ^:: they stole, Ajjp brought the heavy corse with easy pace To yawning gulfe of deepe Avernus hole. By that same hole an entraunce, darke and bace, With smoake and sulphur hiding all the place, Descends to hell: there creature never past, That backe retourned without heavenly grace ; 46 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines have brast, And damned sprights sent fortli to make ill men aghast. XXXII. By that same way the direfull dames doe drive Their mournefull charett, fild with rusty blood, And downe to Plutoes house are come bilive : Which passing through, on every side them stood The trembling gliosts with sad amazed mood, Chattring their iron teeth, and staring wide With stony eies; and all the hellish brood Of feeuds infernall flockt on every side, To gaze on erthly wight that with the Night durst ride. They pas the bitter waves of Acheron, Where many soules sit wailing woefully, And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton, Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry, And with sharp shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry. Cursing high Jove, the which them thither sent. The house of endlesse paine is built thereby. In which ten thousand sorts of punish- ment The cursed creatures doe eternally tor- ment. XXXIV. Before th^ threshold dreadfull Cerberus His three deformed heads did lay along, Curled with thousand adders venemous. And lilled forth his bloody flaming tong : At them he gan to reare his bristles strong, And felly gnarre, untill Dayes enemy Did him appease ; then downe his taile he liong, ^ And suffered them to passen quietly ;^ For she in hell and heaven had power equally. XXXV. There was Ixion turned on a wheele. For daring tempt the Queene of heaven to sin ; And Sisyphus and huge round stone did reele Against an hill,ne might from labour liu ; There thristy Tantalus hong by the chin; And Tityus fed a vultur on his maw; Typhoeus joynts were stretched on a gin ; Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth by law; And fifty sisters water in leke vessels draw. XXXVI. They all, beholding worldly wights in place. Leave off their worke, unmindfuUof their smart, To gaze on them ; who forth by them doe pace, Till they be come unto the furthest part; Where was a Cave y wrought by wondrous art. Deepe, darke, uneasy, dolefull, comfort- lesse. In which sad Aesculapius far apart Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse ; For that Hippolytus rent corse he did re- dresse. XXXVII. Hippolytus a jolly huntsman was. That wont in charett chace the foming bore : He all his Peeres in beauty did surpas, But Ladies love as losse of time forbore : His wanton stepdame loved him the more ; But, when she saw her offred sweets re- fusd, Her love she turnd to hate, and him before His father fierce of treason false accusd, And with her gealous termes his open eares abusd : XXXVIII. Who, all in rage, his Sea-god syre be- sought Some cursed vengeaunce on his sonne to cast. From surging gulf two Monsters streight were brought, With dread whereof his chacing steedes aghast Both charett swifte and huntsman over- cast : His goodly corps, on ragged cliffs yrent, Was quite dismembred, and his members chast Scattered on every mountaine as he went. That of Hippolytus was lef te no moniment. His cruell step-dame, seeing what was donne, Her wicked daies with wretched knife did end, CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 47 In death avowing tli' innocence of her Sonne. Which hearing, his rash syre began to rend His heare, and hasty tong that did offend : Tho, gathering up the reliques of liis smart, By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend, Them brought to Aesculape that by his art Did heale them all againe, and joyned every part. XL. Such wondrous science in mans witt to rain When Jove avizd, that could the dead revive, And fates expired could renew again, Of endlesse life he might him not deprive, But unto hell did thrust him downe alive. With flashing thunderbolt y wounded sore : AVhere, long remaining, he did alwaies strive Himselfe with salves to health for to re- store. And slake the heavenly fire that raged evermore. XLI. There auncient Night arriving did alight From her nigh weary wayne, and in her armes To jEsculapius brought the wounded knight : Whome having softly disaraid of armes, Tho gan to him discover all his harmes, Beseeching him with prayer and with praise, If either salves, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes, A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise, He would at her request prolong her nephews dales. ' Ah Dame,' (quoth he) ' thou temptest me in vaine, To dare the thing which daily yet I rew, And the old cause of my continued paine With like attempt to like end to renew. Is not enough, that, thrust from heaven dew, Here endlesse penaunce for one fault I pay, But that redoubled crime with vengeaunce new Thou biddest me to eeke ? Can Night de- fray The wrath of thundring Jove, that rules both night and day? ' XLIII. 'Not so,' (quoth she) 'but, sith that heavens king From hope of heaven hath thee excluded quight. Why f earest thou, that canst not hope for thing ; And f earest not that more thee hurten might, Now in the powre of everlasting Night ? Goeto then, O thou far renownied sonne Of great Apollo ! shew thy famous might In medichie, that els hath to thee wonne Great pains, and greater praise, both never to be donne.' Her words prevaild : And then the learned leach His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay, And all things els the which his art did teach : Which having scene, from thence arose away The mother of dredd darknesse, and let stay Aveugles sonne there in the leaches cure ; And, backe retourning, took her wonted way To ronne her timely race, whilst Phoebus pure In westerne waves his weary wagon di& recure. XLV. The false Duessa, leaving noyous Night, Returud to stately pallace of DamePryde : Where when she came, she found the Faery knight Departed thence ; albee his woundes wyde Not throughly heald unready were to ryde. Good cause he had to hasten thence away ; For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spyde Where in a dungeon deepe huge uombers lay Of caytive wretched thralls, that wayled night and day : ^ruefuU sight as could be seene with eie, Of whom he learned had in secret wise The hidden cause of their captivitie ; How mortgaging their lives to Covetise, Through wastfull Pride and wanton Ri- otise, They were by law of that proud Tyran- nesse, Provokt with Wrath and Envyes false surmise. Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse, 48 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. AVliere tliey should live in wo, and dye iu wretcheduesse. There was that great proud king of Babylon, That would compel! all nations to adore, And him as onely God to call upon ; Till, through celestiall doome thrown out of dore. Into an Oxe he was transformd of yore. There also was king Crcesus, that eu- haunst His hart too high through his great richesse store; And proud Antiochus, the which ad- vaunst His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altares daunst. And them long time before, great Nini- rod was. That first the world with sword and fire w^arrayd ; And after him old Ninus far did pas In princely pomp, of all the world obayd. There also was that mightie Monarch layd Low under all, yet above all in pride, That name of native syre did fowle up- brayd. And would as Ammons sonne be magni- fide. Till, scornd of God and man, a shamefuU death he dide. XLIX. All these together in one heape were throwne, Like carkases of beastes in butchers stall. And in another corner wide were strowne The Antique ruins of the Romanes fall : Great Romulus, the Grandsyre of them all; Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hannibs " Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius High Caesar, great Pompey, and fierg^n- tonius. [IIUIUS eripr Amongst these mightie men were wemen mixt, Proud M'emen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke : The bold Semiramis, whose sides trans- fixt With sonnes own blade her fowle re- proches spoke: Fayre Sthenoboea, that her selfe did choke With wilfuU chord for wanting of her will ; High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke Of Aspes sting lier selfe did stoutly kill; And thousands moe the like that did that donaeon fill. LI. Besides the endlesse routes of wretched thralles. Which thither were assembled day by day From all the world, after their wofull falles, Through wicked pride and wasted welthes decay. But most of all, which in that dongeon lay. Fell from high Princes courtes, or Ladies bowres. Where they iu ydle pomp, or wanton play, Consumed had their goods and thriftlesse howres. And lastly thrown themselves into these heavy stowres. LII. Whose case whenas the careful Dwarfe had tould, And made ensample of their mournfull sight Unto his Maister, he no lenger would There dwell in perill of like painefuU plight. But earely rose ; and, ere that dawning light Discovered had the w^orld to heaven wyde, He by a privy Posterne tooke his flight. That of no envious eyes he mote be spyde ; For, doubtlesse, death ensewd if any him descryde. Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way, For many corses, like a great Lay-stall, Of murdred men, which therein strowed lay Without remorse or decent funerall; Which al through that great Princesse pride did fall, And came to shamefull end. And them besyde, F'orth rydiiig underneath the castell wall, A Donghill of dead carcases he spyde ; The dreadful! spectacle of that sad house of Pryde. CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 49 CANTO VI. From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace Fayre Una is releast : Whom salvage nation does adore, And learnes her wise beheast. ^ As when a ship, that tiyes fayre under sayle, An hidden rocke escaped hath unawares, That lay in waite her wrack for to be- wail e, The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares To joy at his foolhappie oversight : So doubly is distrest twixt joy and cares The dreadlesse corage of this Elfin knight, Having escapt so sad ensamples in his sight. II. Yet sad he was, that his too hastie speed The fayre Duess' had forst him leave be- hind ; And yet more sad, that Una, his deare dreed, Her truth had staynd with treason so un- kind : Yet cryme in her could never creature find ; But for his love, and for her own selfe sake. She wandred had from one to other Ynd, Him for to seeke, ne ever would forsake, Till her unwares the tiers Sansloy did overtake : III. Who, after Archimagoes fowle defeat, Led her away into a forest wilde ; And, turning wrathful! fyre to lustful! heat, "With beastly sin thought her to have de- filde, And made the vassal! of his pleasures vilde. Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes Her to persuade that stubborne fort to yilde : For greater conquest of hard love he gaynes, That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines. With fawning wordes he courted her a while ; And, looking lovely and oft sighing sore, Her constant hart did tempt with diverse guile: But wordes, and lookes, and siglies she did abhore ; As rock of Diamond stedfast evermore. Yet for to feed his fyrie lustful! eye, He snatclit the vele tliat hong her face before : Then gan her beautie sliyne as brightest skye. And burnt his beastly hart t'efforce her chastitye. V. So when he saw his flatt'ring artes to fayle. And subtile engines bett from batteree; With greedy force began the fort assayle, Whereof he weend possessed soonetobee. And win rich spoile of ransackt chastitee. Ah heavens! that doe this hideous act behold, And heavenly virgin thus outraged see, How can ye vengeance just so long with- hold, And hurle not flashing flames upon that Paynira bold ? The pitteous mayden, careful!, com- fortlesse, Does tlirow out thrilling shriekes, and shrieking cryes. The last vaine helpe of wemens great distresse. And with loud plaintes importuneth the skyes. That molten starres doe drop like weeping eyes ; And Phoebus, flying so most shameful! sight. His blushing face in foggy cloud imply es. And hydes for shame. What witt of mortal wight Can now devise to quitt a thrall from such a plight ? Eternall providence, exceeding thought, Where none appeares can make her selfe a way. A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought, From Lyons clawes to pluck the gryped pray. Her shrill outcryes ?ind sluleks so loud did bray. 50 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. That all the woodes and forestes did resownd : A troupe of Faunes aud Satyres far away Within the wood w^ere dauncing in a rownd, Whiles old Sylvanus slept in shady arber sownd : VIII. Who, when they heard that pitteous strained voice, In haste forsooke their rurall meriment, Aud ran towardes the far rebowuded noyce. To weet what wight so loudly did lament. Unto the place they come incontinent : Whom when the raging Sarazin espyde, A rude, mishapen, monstrous rablement, Whose like he never saw, he durst not byde, But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ryde. IX. The wyld woodgods, arrived in the place. There find the virgin, doolfull, desolate. With ruffled rayments, and fayre blub- bred face, As her outrageous foe had left her late ; And trembling yet through feare of former hate. All stand amazed at so uncouth sight. And gin to pittie her unhappie state : All stand astonied at her beautie bright. In their rude eyes unworthie of so wofull plight. / She, more aniazd, in double dread doth dwell ; And every tender part for feare does shake. As when a greedy Wolfe, through honger fell, A seely Lamb far from the flock does take, Of whom he meanes his bloody feast to make, A Lyon spyes fast running towards him, The innocent pray in hast he does for- Which, quitt from death, yet quakes in every lim With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim. XI. Such fearefull fitt assaid her trembling \ hart, Ne word to speake, ne joynt to move, she had ; The salvage nation feele her secret smart. And read her sorrow in her count'nance sad ; Their frowning forheades, with rough homes yclad. And rustick horror, all asyde doe lay ; And, gently grenning, shew a semblance glad To comfort her; and, feare to put away, Their backward bent knees teach her humbly to obay. The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet committ Her single person to their barbarous truth ; But still twixt feare and hopeamazd does sitt, Late learnd what harme to hasty trust ensu'th. They, in compassion of her tender youth, And wonder of her beautie soverayne, Are wonne with pitty and unwonted ruth ; And, all prostrate upon the lowly playne. Doe kisse her feete, aud fawne on her with count'nance fayne. XIII. Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise, And yieldes her to extremitie of time : So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise. And w^alketh forth without suspect of crime. They, all as glad as birdes of joyous Pryme, Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round. Shouting, and singing all a shepheards ryme ; And with greene braunches strowing all the ground. Do worship her as Queene with olive gir- lond cround. XIV. And all the way their merry pipes they sound. That all the woods with doubled Eccho ring ; And with their horned feet doe weare the ground. Leaping like w^anton kids in pleasant Spring. So towards old Sylvanus they her bring; Who, with the noyse awaked, comqieth out CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 51 To weet the cause, his weake steps gov- erning And aged limbs on cypresse stadle stout ; And with an yvie twyne his waste is girt about. XV. Far off he wonders what them makes so glad ; Or Bacchus merry fruit they did invent, Or Cybeles franticke rites have made them mad : They, drawing uigh, unto their God present That flowre of faythandbeautie excellent. The God himselfe, vewing that mirrhour rare, Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent: His owne fayre Dryope now he thinkes not faire. And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire. The woodborne people fall before her flat, And worship her as Goddesse of the wood ; And old wSylvanus selfe bethinkes not what To thinke of wight so fayre, but gazing stood In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood : Sometimes dame Venus selfe he seemes to see ; But Venus never had so sober mood : Sometimes Diana he her takes to be, But misseth bow and shaftes, and buskins to her knee. By vew of her he ginneth to revive His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse ; And calles to mind hispourtraiture alive. How fayre he was, and yet not fayre to this; And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse A gentle Hynd, the which the lovely boy Did love as life, above all worldly blisse ; For grief e whereof the lad n'ould after joy. But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy. XVIII. The wooddy nymphes, faire Hama- dryades. Her to behold do thither runne apace ; And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades Flocke all about to see her lovely face ; But, when they vewed have her heavenly grace, They envy her in their malitious mind. And tly away for feare of fowle disgrace: But all the Satyres scorne their woody kind. And henceforth nothing faire but her on earth they find. Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky mayd Did her content to please their feeble eyes. And long time with that salvage people stayd. To gather breath in many miseryes. During which time her gentle wit she plyes To teach them truth, which worshipt her in vaine, And made her th' Image of Idolatryes; But when their bootlesse zeale she did restrayne From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn. It fortuned, a noble warlike knight By just occasion to that for rest came To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right From whence he tooke his weldeserved name : He had in armes abroad wonne mucheXl fame, And fild far landes with glorie of his might : Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame, And ever lov'd to fight for Ladies right ; But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight. XXI. A Satyres sonne, yborne in forrest wyld, By straunge adventure as it did betyde. And there begotten of a Lady my Id, Fayre Thyamis, the daughter of Labryde ; That was in sacred bandes of wedlocke tyde To Therion, a loose unruly swayne. Who had more joy to raunge the forrest wyde. And chase the salvage beast with busie payne, Then serve his Ladies love, and waste in pleasures vayne. XXII. The forlorne mayd did with loves long- ing bui'ne, 52 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And could not lacke her lovers company ; But to the woods she goes, to serve her turne, And seeke her spouse that from her still does fly, And followes other game and venery : A Satyre chaunst her waudring lor to flnde ; And, kindling coles of lust in brutish eye. The loyall linkes of wedlocke did unbinde, And made her person thrall unto his beastly kind. So long in secret cabin there he held Her captive to his sensuall desyre, Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld, And bore a boy unto that salvage syre: Then home he suffred her for to retyre, For ransome leaving him the late-borne childe ; Whom, till to ryperyeares he gan aspyre. He nousled up in life and manners wilde, Emongst wild beastes and woods, from lawes of men exilde. For all he taught the tender ymp was but To banish cowardize and bastard feare : His trembling hand he would him force to put Upon the Lyon and the rugged Beare ; And from the she Beares teats her whelps to teare ; And eke wyld roring Buls he would him make To tame, and ryde their backes, not made to beare ; And the Robuckes in flight to overtake, That everie beast for feare of him did fly, and quake. Thereby so fearlesse and so fell he grew, That his own syre, and maister of his guise, Did often tremble at his horrid vew ; And oft, for dread of hurt, would him ad- vise The angry beastes not rashly to despise. Nor too much to provoke ; for he would learne The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise, (A lesson hard) and make the Libbard Sterne Leave roaring, when in rage he for re- venge did earne. XXVI. And for to make his powre approved more, Wyld beastes in yron yokes he would compell ; The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore, The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell. The Antelope, and Wolfe both fiers and fell; And them coustraine in equall teme to draw. Such joy he had their stubborne harts to quell. And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw, That his beheast they feared as a tyrans law. XXVII. His loving mother came upon a day Unto the woodes, to see her little sonne ; And chaunst unwares to meet him in the way. After his sportes and cruell pastime donne ; When after him a Lyonesse did runne. That roaring all with rage did lowd re- quere Her children deare, whom he aw^ay had w^onne : The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare, And lull in rugged armes withouten child- ish feare. The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight. And turning backe gan fast to fly away ; Untill, with love revokt from vaine affright. She hardly yet perswaded was to stay, And then to him these womanish words gan say : ' Ah Satyrane, my dearling and my joy, For love of me leave off this dreadfull play; To dally thus with death is no fit toy : Go, find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy.' In these and like delightes of bloody game He trayned was, till ryper years he raught ; And there abode, whylst any beast of name Walkt in that forrest, whom he had not taught CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. S3 To feare his force: aud then his courage haught Desyrd of forreiiie foemen to be knowne, And far abroad for straunge adventures sought ; In which his might was never over- throwne ; But through al Faery lou(| his famous worth was blown. Yet evermore it was his maner faire, After long labours and adventures spent, Unto those native woods for to repaire, To see his syre and ofspring auncient. And now he thither came for like intent ; "Where he unwares the fairest Una found, Straunge Lady in so straunge habiliment, Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around, Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound. He wondred at her wisedome hevenly rare, Whose like in womens witt he never knew ; And, when her curteous deeds he did compare, Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew, Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles threw. And joyd to make proofe of her cruelty On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse and so trew : Thenceforth he kept her goodly company, And learnd her discipline of faith and verity. XXXII. But she, all vowd unto the Redcrosse Knight, His wandring perill closely did lament, Ne in this new acquaintaunce could de- light; But her deare heart with anguish did tor- ment, And all her witt in secret counsels spent, How to escape. At last in privy wise To Satyrane she shewed her intent ; Who, glad to gain such favour, gan de- vise. How with that pensive Maid he best might thence arise. XXXIII. So on a day, when Satyres all were gone To do their service to Sylvanus old, The gentle virgin, left behinde alone. He led away with corage stout and bold. Too late it was to Satyres to be told. Or ever hope recover her againe : In value he -seekes that having cannot hold. So fast he carried her with carefull paine. That they the woods are past, and come now to the plaine. The better part now of the lingring day They traveild had, whenas they far espide A weary wight forwandring by the way ; And towards him they gan in haste to ride, To weete of newes that did abroad betide, Or tidings of her knight of the Redcrosse ; But he them spying gan to turne aside For feare, as seemd, or for some feigned losse : More greedy they of newes fast towards him do crosse. A silly man, in simple weeds forworne. And soiid with dust of the loug dried way ; His sandales were with toilsome travel! torne. And face all tand with scorching sunny lay, And he had traveild many a sommers day Through boyling sands of Arable and Ynde, And in his hand a Jacobs staffe, to stay His weary limbs upon ; and eke behind His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind. XXXVI. The knight, approching nigh, of him in- querd Tidings of warre, and of adventures new ; But warres, nor new adventures, none he herd. Then Una gan to aske, if ought he knew, Or heard abroad of that her champion trew. That in his armour bare a croslet red ? 'Ay me! Deai-e dame,' (quoth he) 'well nuiy I rew To tell the sad sight which mine eies have red ; These eies did see that knight both living and eke ded.' XXXVII. That cruell word her tender hart so thrild, That suddeiu cold did ronne through every vaine. And stony horrour all her sences fild With dying titt, that downe she fell for paine. 54 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book The knight her lightly reared up againe, And comforted with curteous kind reliefe : Then, woune from death, she bad him tellen plaine The further processe of her hidden griefe : The lesser pangs can beare who hath en- dur'd the chief. XXXVIII. Then gan the Pilgrim thus : * I chaunst this day, This fatall day that shall I ever rew, To see two knights, in travell on my way, (A sory sight) arraung'd in batteill new. Both breathing veugeaunce, both of wrath- full hew. My feareful flesh did tremble at their strife. To see their blades so greedily imbrew. That, dronke with blood, yet thristed after life : What more? the Redcrosse knight was slain with Paynim knife.' XXXIX. 'Ah! dearest Lord,' (quoth she) 'how might that bee. And he the stoutest knight that ever wonne? ' *Ah! dearest dame,' (quoth hee) 'how might I see The thing that might not be, and yet was donne ? ' ' Where is,' (said Satyrane) * that Paynims Sonne, That him of life, and us of joy, hath ref te ? ' * Not far away,' (quoth he) ' he hence doth wonne, Foreby a fountaine, where I late him lefte Washing his bloody wounds, that through the Steele were cleft.' Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast. Whiles Una, with huge heavinesse op- prest, Could not for sorrow follow him so fast ; And soone he came, as he the place had ghest, Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did rest In secret shadow by a fountaine side : Even he it was, that earst would have supprest Faire Una ; whom when Satyrane espide. With foule reprochfuU words he boldly him defide. And said ; ' Arise, thou cursed Mis- creaunt. That hast with knightlesse guile, and trecherous train, Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and do- est vaunt That good knight of the Redcrosse to have slain : Arise, and with like treason now maintain Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield.' The Sarazin, this hearing, rose amain. And, catching up in hast his three-square shield And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field. And, drawing nigh him, said ; ' Ah! mis- born Elfe, In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent Anothers wrongs to wreak upon thy selfe : Yet ill thou blamest me for having blent My name with guile and traiterous intent : That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never slew; But had he beene where earst his armes were lent, Th' enchaunter vaine his errour should not rew : But thou his errour shalt, I hope, now proven trew.' XLIII. Therewith they gan, both furious and fell, To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile Each other, bent his enimy to quell. That with their force they perst both plate and maile. And made wide furrowes in their fleshes fraile, That it would pitty any living eie. Large floods of blood adowne their sides did raile ; But floods of blood could not them satisfie : Both hongred after death ; both chose to win, or die. ^ XLIV. So long they fight, and full revenge pursue, That, fainting, each themselves to breathen lett. And, ofte refreshed, battell of t renue. As when two Bores, with rancling malice mett, Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely f rett ; Til breathlesse both themselves aside re- tire, CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 55 Where foming wrath their cruell tuskes they whett, And trample th' earth, the whiles they may respire, Then backe to fight agaiue, new breathed and entire. "> XLV. So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once, They gan to fight retourne, increasing more Their puissant force, and cruell rage at- tonce, With heaped strokes more hugely then before ; That with their drery wounds, and bloody gore. They both, deformed, scarsely could bee known. By this, sad Una fraught with anguish sore. Led with their noise which through the aire was thrown, Arriv'd wher they in erth their fruitles blood had sown. Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin Espide, he gan revive the memory Of his lend lusts, and late attempted sin. And lefte the doubtfull battell hastily, To catch her, newly off red to his eie ; But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, staid, And sternely bad him other businesse plie Then hunt the steps of pure unspotted Maid : Wherewith he al enrag'd these bitter speaches said. ' O foolish faeries sonne ! what fury mad Hath thee inceust to hast thy dolefull fate? Were it not better I that Lady had Then that thou hadst repented it too late ? Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe doth hate. To love another : Lo! then, for thine ayd, Here take thy lovers token on thy pate.' So they to fight ; the whiles the royall Mayd Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd. XLVIII. But that false Pilgrim, which that leas- ing told. Being in deed old Archimage, did stay In secret shadow all this to behold ; And much rejoyeed in their bloody fray: But, when he saw the Damsell passe away. He left his stond, and her pursewd apace, In hope to bring her to her last decay. But for to tell her lamentable cace. And eke this battels end, will need another place. 9^ I CANTO VII. The Redcrosse knight is captive made By Gyaunt proud opprest : Prince Arthure meets with Una great- ly with those newes distrest. What man so wise, what earthly witt so ware, As to discry the crafty cunning traine. By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire, And cast her coulours, died deepe in graine. To seeme like truth, whose shape she well can faine. And fitting gestures to her purpose frame, The guiltlesse man with guile to enter- taine ? Great maistiesse of her art was that false Dame, The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes name. AVho when, returning from the drery Night, She fownd not in that perilous hous of Pryde, Where she had left the noble Redcrosse knight. Her hoped pray, she would no lenger byde, But forth she went to seeke him far and wide. Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie sate To reste him selfe foreby a fountaine syde. Disarmed all of yron-coted Plate ; And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate. THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Hee feedes upon the cooling shade, and bayes His sweatie forehead in the breathing wynd, * Which through the trembling leaves full gently playes, Wherein the chearefull birds of sundry kynd Doe chaunt sweet musick to delight his mynd. The witch approching gan him fayrely greet, And with reproch of carelesnes unkynd Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet, With fowle words tempring faire, soure gall with hony sweet. Unkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat, And bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous shade, Which shielded them against the boyliug heat, And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade, About the fountaine like a girlond made ; Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly well, Ne ever would through fervent sommer fade: The sacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell. Was out of Dianes favor, as it then befell. The cause was this: one day, when Phoebe fayre With all her band was following the chace. This nymph, quite tyr'd with heat of scorching ay re, Satt downe to rest in middest of the race : The goddesse wroth gan fowly her dis- grace, And badd the waters, which from her did flow, Be such as she her selfe was then in place. Thenceforth her waters wexed dull and slow, And all that drinke thereof do faint and feeble grow. VI. Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was ; And lying downe upon the sandie graile, Dronke of tlie streame, as cleare as christall glas : Eftsoones his manly forces gan to fayle. And might ie strong was turnd to feeble frayle. His chaunged powres at first them selves not felt ; Till crudled cold his corage gan assayle. And chearef ul blood in fayntnes chill did melt. Which like a fever fit through all his bodie swelt. Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame, Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd. Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame ; Till at the last he heard a dreadf nil sownd. Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebownd, That all the earth for terror seemd to And trees did tremble. Th' Elfe, there- with astownd. Upstarted lightly from his looser make. And his unready weapons gan in hand to take. But ere he could his armour on him dight. Or gett his shield, his monstrous enimy With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight, An hideous Geaunt, horrible and bye. That with his tallnesse seemd to threat the skye ; The ground eke groned under him for dreed : His living like saw never living eye, Ne durst behold : his stature did exceed The hight of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed. The greatest Earth his uncouth mother was. And blustring .Eolus his boasted syre ; Who with his lireath, which through the world doth pas, Her hollow womb did secretly inspyre, And fild her hidden caves with stormie yre. That she conceiv'd ; and trebling the dew time In which the wombes of wemen doe expyre, Brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slyme, Puft up with emptie wynd, and fild with sinfull cryme. CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE QUEKN ^7 So gi-owen great, through arrogant delight Of th' high descent whereof he was yboriie, And througli presumption of his match- lesse might, All other powres and knighthood he did scorne. Such now he marcheth to this man for- lorne, And left to losse ; his stalking steps are stayde Upon a snaggy Oke, which he had torne Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made His mortall mace, whe'vwith his foemen he dismayde. That, when the knight he spyde, he gan ad van nee With huge force and insupportable mayne, And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce ; Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse, all in vaine Did to him pace sad battaile to darrayne, Disarmd, disgraste, and inwardly dis- mayde ; And eke so faint in every joynt and vayne. Through that fraile fountain which him feeble made, That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse single blade. XII. The Geaunt strooke so maynly merci- lesse, That could have overthrowne a stony towre ; And, were not hevenly grace that did him blesse. He had beene pouldred all as thin as tlowre : But he was wary of that deadly stowre, And lightly lept from underneath the blow : Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre. That with the winde it did him over- throw, And all his sences stound that still he lay full low. XIII. divelish As when that wrought In deepest Hell, and skill, With windy Nitre and fraught, And ramd with bollet rownd, ordaind to kill, yron Engin, framd by Furies quick Sulphur Conceiveti. ly it • i-.- , , "i) With thundriiit; noysc, ; doth choLe, That none can breath, nor seo, i,*., \\r.. . , at will, Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke ; That th' only breath him daunts, who hath escapt the stroke. XIV. So daunted when the Geaunt saw vh<: knight. His heavie hand he heaved up on hye, And him to dust thought to have battred quight, Untill Duessa loud to him gan crye, 'O great Orgoglio! greatest under skye, O! hold thy mortall hand for liadies sake; Hold for my sake, and doe him not to dye, But vanquisht thine eternall bondslave make. And me, thy worthy meed, unto thy Le- mau take.' XV. He hearkned, and did stay from fur- ther harmes. To gayne so goodly guerdon as she spake: So willingly she came into his armes. Who her as willingly to grace did take, And was possessed of his newfound make. Then up he tooke the slombred sencelesse corse, And, ere he could out of his swowne awake, Him to his castle brought with hastie forse. And in a Dongeon deepe him threw with- out remorse. XVI. From that day forth Duessa was his deare, And highly honourd in his haughtie eye: He gave her gold and purple pall to weare, And triple crowne set on her head full hye. And her endowd with royall majestye. Then, for to make her dreaded more of men, And peoples hartes with awfull terror tye, A monstrous beast ybredd in filthy fen He chose, which he had kept long time in darksom den. 58 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I, Such one it -vvas, as that renowmed Snake Which gresot Alcides in Stremona slew, Long fosvred in the filth of Lerna lake : Whose many heades, out budding ever new, Did breed him endlesse labor to subdew. But this same Monster much more ugly was, For seven great heads out of his body grew. An yron brest, and back of scaly bras, And all embrewd in blood his eyes did shine as glas. XVIII. His tayle was stretched out in wondrous length. That to the hous of hevenly gods it raught : And with extorted powre, and borrow'd strength. The everburning lamps from thence it braught, And prowdly threw to ground, as things of naught ; And underneath his filthy feet did tread The sacred thiuges, and holy heastes fore- taught. Upon this dreadfull Beast with sevenfold head He sett the false Duessa, for more aw and dread. The wo full Dwarfe, which saw his mais- ters fall Whiles he had keeping of his grasing steed, And valiant knight become a caytive thrall. When all was past, tooke up his forlorne weed ; His mightie Armour, missing most at need ; His silver shield, now idle, maisterlesse ; His poynant speare that many made to bleed. The rueful monimeuts of heavinesse ; And with them all departes to tell his great distresse. He had not travaild long, when on the way He wofuU Lady, wofuU Una, met, Fast flying from that Paynims greedy pray, Whilest Satyrane him from pursuit did let: Who when her eyes she on the Dwarf had set, And saw the signes that deadly tydinges spake. She fell to ground for sorrowful! re- gret, And lively breath her sad brest did for- sake ; Yet might her pitteous hart be scene to pant and quake. XXI. The messenger of so unhappie newes Would faine have dyde: dead was his hart within, Yet outwardly some little comfort shewes. At last, recovering hart, he does begin To rubb her temples, and to chaufe her chin. And everie tender part does tosse and turne : So hardly he the flitted life does win Unto her native prison to retourne ; Then gins her grieved ghost thus to lament and mourne : *Ye dreary instruments of dolefull sight, That doe this deadly spectacle behold, Why doe ye lenger feed on loathed light. Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould, Sith cruell fates the carefull threds un- fould, The which my life and love together tyde? Now let the stony dart of sencelesse cold Perce to my hart, and pas through everie side. And let eternall night so sad sight fro me hyde. xxin. ' O lightsome day! tlft lampe of highest Jove, First made by him mens wandring wayes toguyde, AVhen darknesse he in deepest dongeon drove. Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde. And shut up heavens windowes shyiiing wyde ; For earthly sight can nought but sorrow breed, And late repentance which shall long abyde : Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed, But seeled up with death shall have their deadly meed.' CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 59 Then downe againe she fell unto the ground, But he her quickly reared up agaiue : Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd, And thrise he her reviv'd with busie paine. At last when life recover'd had the raine, And over-wrestled his strong enimy, AVith foltring toug, and trembling everie vaiue, * Tell on,' (quoth she) ' the wofull Tragedy, The which these reliques sad present unto mine eye. XXV. 'Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight, And thrilling sorrow throwne his utmost dart : Thy sad tong cannot tell more heavy plight Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart: AVho hath endur'd the whole can beare ech part. If death it be, it is not the first wound That launched hath my brest with bleed- ing smart. Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound ; If lesse then that I feare, more favour I have found.' Then gan the Dwarfe the whole dis- course declare ; The subtile traines of Archimago old ; The wanton loves of false Fidessa fayre, Bought with the blood of vanquisht Pay- nim bold ; The wretched payre transformd to treen mould ; The house of Pryde, and perilles round about ; The combat which he with Sansjoy did hould ; The lucklesse conflict with the Gyaunt stout, Wherein captiv'd, of life or death he stood in doubt. xxvii. She heard with patience all unto the end, And strove to maister sorrowfnll assay, Which greater grew the more she did con- tend, And almost rent her tender hart in tway ; And love fresh coles unto her fire did lay; For greater love, the greater is the losse. Was never Lady loved dearer day Then she did kve the knight of the Red- crosse, For whose dears sake so many troubles her did tosse. At last when fervent sorrow slaked was. She up arose, .esolviug him to find Alive or dead ; and forward forth doth pas, All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd ; And evermore, in constant carefull mind, She fedd her wound with fresh renewed bale. Long tost with stormes, and bet with bit- ter wind. High over hills, and lowe adowne the dale, _ She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale. At last she chaunced by good hap to meet A goodly knight, faire marching by the way, Together with his Squyre, arayed meet: His glitterand armour sinned far away, Like glauncing light of Phoebus brightest ray; From top to toe no place appeared bare. That deadly dint of Steele endanger may. Athwart his brest a bauldrick brave he ware, That shind, like twinkling stars, with stones most pretious rare. XXX. And in the midst thereof one pretious stone Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights, Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding shone, Like Hesperus emongst the lesser lights, And strove for to amaze the weaker sights : Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong In yvoi-y sheath, ycarv'd with curious slights. Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong Of mother perle;"aiid buckled with a golden tong. XXXI. His haughtie Helmet, horrid all with gold. 6o THE FAERIE QUEENE. [BOOK I. Both glorious brightues.se and great ter- rour bredd : For all the crest a Dragou did enfold "With greedie pawes, and over all did spredd His golden winges : his dref.dfull hideous hedd, Close couched on the bever, seemd to throw From flaming mouth bright sparckles fiery redd, That suddeine horrour to faint hartes did show ; And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his back full low. Upon the top of all his loftie crest, A bounch of heares discolourd diversly, With sprincled pearle and gold full richly drest, Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollity. Like to an almond tree ymounted hye On top of greene Selinis all alone, With blossoms brave bedecked daintily ; Whose tender locks do tremble every one At everie little breath that under heaven is blowne. XXXIII. His warlike shield all closely cover'd was, Ne might of mortall eye be ever scene ; Not made of Steele, nor of enduring bras, Such earthly mettals soon consumed beene. But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene It framed was, one massy entire mould. He wen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene. That point of speare it never percen could, Ne dint of direfull sword divide the sub- stance would. The same to wight he never wont dis- close. But whenas monsters huge he would dis- may. Or daunt unequall armies of his foes, Or when the flying heavens he would affray ; For so exceeding shone his glistring ray. That Phoebus golden face it did attaint. As when a cloud his beanies doth over-lay ; And silver Cynthia wexed pale and faynt. As when her face is staynd with magicke arts constraint. XXXV. No magicke arts hereof had any might. Nor bloody wordes of bold Enchaunters call; But all that was not such as seemd in sight Before that shield did fade, and suddeine fall : And when him list the raskall routes ap- pall, Men into stones therewith he could trans- mew, And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all; And, when him list the prouder lookes subdew. He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew. XXXVI. Ne let it seeme that credence this ex- ceedes ; For he that made the same was knowne right well To have done much more admirable deedes. It Merlin was, which whylome did excell All living wightes in might of magicke spell : Both shield and sword, and armour all he wrought For this young Prince, when first to armes he fell ; But, when he dyde, the Faery Queene it brought To Faerie loud, where yet it may be scene, if sought: XXXVII. Agentle youth, his dearely loved Squire, His speare of heben wood behind him bare, Whose harmeful head, thrise heated in the fire, Had riven many a brest with pikehead square : A goodly person, and could menage faire His stubborne steed with curbed canon bitt. Who under him did trample as the aire. And chauft that any on his backe should sitt: The yron rowels into frothy fome he bitt. Whenas this knight nigh to the Lady drew. With lovely court he gan her entertaine ; But, when he heard her answers loth, he knew CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE OUEENE. 6i Some secret sorrow did her heart dis- traiue ; Which to allay, and calme her storming paine, Faire feeling words he wisely gan display, And for her humor fitting purpose faine, To tempt the cause it selfe for to be- wray. Wherewith enmovd, these bleeding words she gan to say. XXXIX. ' What worlds delight, or joy of living speach. Can hart, so plungd in sea of sorrowes deep, And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach ? The carefull cold beginueth for to creep. And in my heart his yron arrow steep, Soone as I thinke upon my bitter bale. Such helplesse harnies yts better hidden keep. Then rip up griefe where it may not availe : My last left comfort is my woes to weepe and waile.' XL. ' Ah Lady deare,' quoth then the gentle knight, ' Well may I ween your griefe is wondrous great ; For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright. Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat. But, woefull Lady, let me you intrete. For to unfold the anguish of your hart : Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete, And counsell mitigates the greatest smart : Found never help who never would his hurts impart.' ' O, but,' (quoth she) ' great griefe will not be tould, And can more easily be thought then said.' ' Right so,' (quoth he) ' but he that never would Could never: will to might gives greatest aid.' 'But griefe,' (quoth she) 'does greater grow displaid, If then it find not helpe, and breeds des- paire.' 'Despaire breeds not,' (quoth he) 'where faith is staid.' * No faith so fast,' (quoth slie) 'but flesh does paire.' Flesh may empaire,' (quoth he) 'but reason can repaire.' His goodly reason, and well-guided speach, So deepe did settle in her gracious thought, Tliat her perswaded to disclose the breach Which love and fortune in her heart had wrought ; And said ; ' Faire Sir, I hope good hap hath brought You to inquere the secrets of my griefe, Or that your wisedome will direct my thought, Or that your prowesse can me yield re- liefe : Then, heare the story sad, which I shall tell you briefe. XLIII. ' The forlorne Maiden, whom your eies have seene The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries. Am th' onely daughter of a King and Queene, Whose parents deare, whiles equal des- tinies Did ronne about, and their felicities The favourable heavens did not envy. Did spred their rule through all the terri- tories, Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by, And Gehons golden waves doe wash con- tinually : XLIV. ' Till that their cruell cursed enemy. An huge great Dragon, horrible in sight. Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary, With murdrous ravine, and devouring might. Their kingdome spoild, and countrey wasted quight: Themselves, for feare into his iawes to fall. He forst to castle strong to take their flight ; Where, fast embard in mighty brasen wall. He has them now fowr years besiegd to make them thrall. XLV. ' Full many knights, adventurous and stout, Have enterpriz'd that Monster to subdew : From every coast that heaven walks about Have thither come the noble Martial crew, That famous harde atchievements still pursew ; 62 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Yet never any could that girlond win, Bat all still shronke, and still he greater grew: All they, for want of faith, or guilt of sin, The pitteous pray of his tiers cruelty have bin. XLVI. ' At last, yled with far reported praise, Which flying fame throughout the world had spred. Of doughty knights, whom Faery land did raise, That noble order hight of maidenhed, Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped, Of Gloriane, great Queene of glory bright, Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis is red ; There to obtaine some such redoubted knight. That Parents deare from tyrants powre deliver might. XLVII. * Yt was my chaunce (my chaunce was faire and good) There for to find a fresh unproved knight ; Whose manly hands imbrewd in guilty blood Had never beene, ne ever by his might Had throwne to ground the unregarded right : Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made (I witnes am) in many a cruell fight ; The groning ghosts of many one dismaide Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging blade. XLVIII. ' And ye, the forlorne reliques of his powre. His biting sword, and his devouring speare, Which have endured many a dreadfuU stowre, Can speake his prowesse that did earst you beare, And well could rule ; now he hath left you heare To be the record of his ruefuU losse. And of my dolefull disaventurous deare. O! heavie record of the good Redcrosse, Where have yee left your lord that could so well you tosse ? * Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had, That he my captive languor t-hould re- deeme : Till, all unweeting, an Enchaunter bad His sence abusd, and made him to mis- deeme My loyalty, not such as it did seeme. That rather death desire then such de- spight. Be judge, ye heavens, that all things right esteeme. How I him lov'd, and love with all my might. So thought I eke of him, and think I thought aright. * Thenceforth me desolate he quite for- sooke, To wander where wilde fortune would me lead, And other bywaies he himselfe betooke, Where never foote of living wight did tread , That brought not backe the balef ull body dead : In which him chaunced false Duessa meete, Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread ; Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming sweete, Inveigled him to follow her desires un- meete. LI. ' At last, by subtile sleights she him be- traid Unto his foe, a Gyaunt huge and tall; Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid, Un wares surprised, and with mighty mall The monster mercilesse him made to fall, Whose fall did never foe before behold : And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall, Remedilesse for aie he doth him hold. This is my cause of grief e, more great then may be told.' Ere she had ended all she gan to faint: But he her comforted, and faire bespake: ' Certes, Madame, ye have great cause of plaint; That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause to quake : But be of cheare, and comfort to you take ; For till I have acquitt your captive knight. Assure your selfe I will you not for- sake.' His chearefull words reviv'd her cheare- lesse sp right, So forth they went, the Dwarf e them guid- ing ever right. CANTO VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 63 CANTO VIII. Faire virgin, to redeeme her deare, Brings Arthure to the fight : Who slayes the Gyaunt, wounds the beast, And strips Duessa quight. Ay me! how many perils doe enfold The righteous man, to make him daily fall, Were not that heavenly grace doth him uphold, And stedfast truth acquite him out of all. Her love is firme, her care contiuuall, So oft as he, through his owu foolish pride Or weaknes, is to sinful! bauds made thrall : Els should this Redcrosse knight in bands have dyde, For vi^hose deliverance she this Prince doth thither guyd. They sadly traveild thus, untill they came Nigh to a castle builded strong and bye : Then cryde the Dwarfe, 'Lo! yonder is the same, In which my Lord, my liege, doth luck- lesse ly Thrall to that Gyaunts hatef ull tyranny : Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.' The noble knight alighted by and by From loftie steed, and badd the Ladie stay, To see what end of light should him befall that day. III. So with his Squire, th' admirer of his might. He marched forth towardes that castle wall. Whose gates he fownd fast shutt, ne living wight To warde the same, nor answere commers call. Then tooke that Squire an home of bugle small. Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold And tasselles gay. Wyde wonders over all Of that same homes great virtues weren told. Which had approved bene in uses mani- fold. IV. Was never wight that heard that shrill- ing sownd, But trembling feare did feel in every vaine : Three miles it might be easy heard arownd. And Ecchoes three aunswer'd it selfe againe : No false enchaimtment, nor deceiptfull traine. Might once abide the terror of that blast. But presently was void and wholly vaine : No gate so strong, no locke so firme and fast, But with that percing noise flew open quite, or brast. The same before the Geaunts gate he blew. That all the castle quaked from the growud. And every dore of freewill open flew. The Gyaunt selfe, dismaied with that sownd. Where he with his Duessa dalliaunce fownd, In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre, With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd. And staggering steps, to weet what sud- dein stowre Had wrought that horror strange, and dar'd his dreaded powre. And after him the proud Duessa came, High mounted on her many headed beast. And every head with fyrie tongue did flame, And every head M'as crowned on his creast, And bloody mouthed with late cruel! feast. That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild Upon his manly arme he soone addrest. And at him fiersly flew, with corage fild. And eger greedinesse through every mem- ber tlirild. Therewitli the Gyant buckled him to fight. 64" ^^ THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Inflamd with scoruefull wrath and high disdaiiie, And liftinoj up his dreadfull chib on hight, All armd with ragged suubbes and knottie graine, Him thought at first encounter to have slaine. But wise and wary was that noble Pare ; And, lightly leaping from so monstrous maine, Did fayre avoide the violence him uere : It booted nought to thinke such thunder- bolts to beare. VIII. Ne shame he thought to shonne so hide- ous might: The ydle stroke, enforcing furious way, Missing the marke of his misaymed sight. Did fall to ground, and with his heavy sway So deepely dinted in the driven clay, That three yardes deepe a furrow up did throw. The sad earth , wounded with so sore assay. Did grone full grievous underneath the blow, And trembling with strange feare did like an erthquake show. As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull mood, To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent, Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreri- ment, Through riven cloudes and molten firma- ment; The fiers threeforked engin, making way. Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent. And all that might his angry passage stay; And, shooting in the earth, castes up a mount of clay. His boystrous club, so buried in the grownd. He could not rearen up againe so light, But that the Knight him at advantage fownd ; And, whiles he strove his combred clubbe to quight Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright He smott off his left arme, which like a block Did fall to ground, depriv'd of native might: Large streames of blood out of the truncked stock Forth gushed, like fresh water streams from riven rocke. Dismayed with so desperate deadly wound. And eke impatient of unwonted payne, He loudly brayd with beastly yelling sownd. That all the fieldes rebellowed againe. As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting, Doe for the milky mothers want com- plaine, And fill the fieldes with troublous bellow- ing: The neighbor woods arownd with hollow murmur ring. That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw The evil stownd that daungerd her estate, Unto his aide she hastily did draw Her dreadfull beast; who, swolne with blood of late, Came ramping forth with proud presump- teous gate. And threatned all his heades like flaming brandes. But him the Squire made quickly to re- trate, Encountring fiers with single sword in hand ; And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarks stand. The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull spight. And fiers disdaine to be affronted so, Enforst her purple Jbeast with all her might. That stop out of the way to overthroe, Scorning the let of so unequall foe : But nathemore would that corageous swayne To her yeeld passage gainst his Lord to goe. But with outrageous strokes did him re- straine, And with his body bard the way atwixt them twaine. CANTO VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 65 Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup, Which still she bore, replete with magick artes ; Death and despeyre did many thereof sup. And secret poyson through their inner partes, Th' eternall bale of heavie w^ounded harts : Which, after charmes and some enchaunt- ments said, She lightly sprinkled on his weaker partes : Therewith his sturdie corage soon was quayd. And all his sences were with suddein dread dismayd. XV. So downe he fell before the cruell beast, Who ou his neck his bloody clawes did seize, That life uigh crusht out of his panting brest : No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize. That when the carefull knight gan well avise. He lightly left the foe with whom he fought, And to the beast gan turne his enterprise ; For wondrous anguish in his hart it wrought. To see his loved Squyre into such thral- dom brought : XVI. And, high advauncing his blood-thirstie blade. Stroke one of those deformed heades so sore, That of his puissaunce proud ensample made: His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore, And that misformed shape misshaped more. A sea of blood gusht from the gaping wownd, That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore. And overflowed all the field arownd, That over shoes in blood he waded on the grownd. » « XVII. Thereat he rored for exceeding paine, That to have heard great horror would have bred : And scourging th' emptie ayre with his long trayne. Through great impatience of his grieved ^ hed, IRs gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted Would have cast downe, and trodd in durty my re, Had not the Gyaunt soone her succoured ; Who, all eurag'd with smart and f ran tick yre, Came hurtling in full fiers, and forst the knight retyre. XVIII. The force, which wont in two to be dis- perst. In one alone left hand he now unites, Which is through rage more strong then both were erst ; With which his hideous club aloft he dites, And at his foe with furious rigor smites. That strongest Oake might seeme to over- throw. The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites, That to the ground it doubleth him full low: What mortall wight could ever beare so monstrous blow? XIX. And in his fall his shield, that covered was, Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew; The light whereof, that hevens light did pas. Such blazing brightnesse through the ayer threw. That eye mote not the same endure to vew. ^V'hich when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye, He downe let fall his arme, and soft with- drew His weapon huge, that heaved was on bye For to have slain the man, that on the ground did lye. And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield. Became stark blind, and all his sences dazd. That downe he tumbled on the durtie field, And seemd himselfe as conquered to yield. Whom when his maistresse proud per- ceiv'd to fall, Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld, Unto the Gyaunt lowdly she gan call ; 66 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. 'O! heipe, Orgoglio; helpe! or els we perish all.' XXI. At her so pitteous cry was much amoov'd Her champion stout; and for to ayde his frend, A^aine his wonted angry weapon proov'd, But all in vaine, for he has redd his end In that bright shield, and all their forces spend Them selves in vaine: for, since that glauncing sight, He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend. As where th' Almighties lightning brond does light, It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the sences quight. XXII. Whom when the Prince, to battel 11 new addrest And threatning high his dreadfuU stroke, did see. His sparkling blade about his head he blest, And smote off quite his right leg by the ^,^ knee. That downe he tombled ; as an aged tree, High growing on the top of rocky clif t, Whose hartstrings with keene Steele nigh he wen be ; The mightie trunck, halfe rent with rag- ged rift, Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearef uU drift, .^ XXIII. Or as a Castle, reared high and round, By subtile engins and malitious slight Is undermined from tlie lowest ground, And her foundation forst, and feebled quight, At last downe falles ; and with her heaped hight Her hastie ruine does, more heavie make, And yields it selfe unto the victours might. Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemd to shake The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake. \ \-^ XXIV. The knight, then lightly leaping to the piay. With mortall Steele him smot againe so sore, That headlesse his unweldy bodie lay. All wallowd in his owne fowle bloody gore. Which Mowed from his wounds in y^on- drous store. But, soone as breath out of his brest did pas. That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore. Was vanisht quite; and of that monstrous mas Was nothing left, but like an emptie blader was. XXV. Whose grievous fall when false Duessa spyde. Her golden cup she cast unto the ground, And crowned mitre rudely threw asyde : Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound. That she could not endure that dolefull stouud. But leaving all behind her fled away : The light-foot Squyre her quickly turnd around. And, by hard meanes enforcing her to stay, So brought unto his Lord as his deserved pray. XXVI. The roiall Virgin which beheld from farre. In pensive plight and sad perplexitie. The whole atchievement of this doubtfull war re. Came running fast to greet his victorie. With sober gladnesse and myld modestie ; And with sweet joyous cheare him thus bespake : ' Fayre braunch of noblesse, fiowre of chevalrie, That with your worth the world amazed make. How shall I quite the paynes ye suffer for my sake ? XXVII. ' And you, fresh budd of vertue spring- ing fast. Whom these sad eyes saw nigh unto deaths dore. What hath poore Virgin for such perill past Wherewith you to reward ? Accept there- fore My simple selfe, and service evermore : And he that high does sit, and all things see With equall eye, their merites to restore, Behold what ye this day have done for mee, % CANTO VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. (^7 And what I eaimot quite requite with usuree. XXVIII. 'But sith the heavens, and your faire handeliug, Have made you master of the field this day, Your fortune maister eke with governing, And, well begoune, end all so well, I pray ! Ne let that wicked woman scape away ; For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall. My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeou lay. Where he his better dayes hath wasted all: O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call ! ' Forthwith he gave in charge unto his Squyre, That searlot whore to keepen carefully ; Whyles he himselfe with greedie great desyre Into the Castle entred forcibly. Where living creature none he did espye. Then gan he lowdly through the house to call; But no man car'd to answere to his crye : There raignd a solemne silence over all ; Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall. XXX. At last, with creeping crooked pace forth came An old old man, with beard as white as snow. That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame. And guyde his wearie gate both too and fro. For his eye sight him fayled long ygo ; And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore. The which unused rust did overgrow : Those were the kej'es of every inner dore; But he could not them use, but kept them still in store. XXXI. But \ery uncouth sight was to behold, How he did fashion his untoward pace ; For as he forward moovd his footing old, So backward still was turnd his wrincled face: Unlike to men, who ever, as they trace, Both feet and face one way are wont to f lead. This was the auncient keeper of that place, And foster father of the Gyaunt dead ; His name Ignaro did his nature right aread. XXXII. His reverend heares and holy gravitee The knight much honord, as beseemed well ; And gently askt, where all the people bee, Which in that stately building wont to dwell : Who answerd him full soft, he could not tell. Again he askt, where that same knight was layd, Whom great Orgoglio with his puissaunce fell Had made his caytive thrall : againe he sayde. He could not tell : ne ever other answere made. Then asked he, which way he in might pas? He could not tell, againe he answered. • Thereat the courteous knight displeased was. And said ; ' Old syre, it seemes thou hast not red How ill it sits with that same silver bed. In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee: But if thou be, as thou artpoui-trahed With natures pen, in ages grave degree, Aread in graver wise what I demaund of thee.' XXXIV. His answere likewise was, he could not tell: Whose sencelesse speach, and doted ignorance, Whenas the noble Prince had marked well. He ghest his nature by his countenance. And calmd his wrath with goodly tem- perance. Then, to him stepping, from his arme did reach Those keyes, and made himselfe free ente ranee. Each dore he opened without any breach ; There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach. XXXV, There all within full rich arayd he found. With royall arras, and resplendent gold. 68 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And did with store of every thing abound, That greatest Princes presence might be- hold. But all the floore (too filthy to be told) With blood of guiltlesse babes, and inno- cents trew, Which there were slaine as sheepe out of the fold, Defiled was, that dreadf ull was to vew ; And sacred ashes over it was strowed new. And there beside of marble stone was built An Altare, carv'd with cunning ymagery, On which trew Christians blood was often spilt, And holy Martyres often doen to dye AVith cruell malice and strong tyranny : Whose blessed sprites, from underneath the stone, To God for vengeance cryde continually ; And with great griefe were often heard to grone, That hardest heart would bleede to hear their piteous moue. XXXVII. Through every rowme he sought, and everie bowr. But no where could he find that wofull thrall: At last he came unto an yron doore, That fast was lockt, but key found not at all Emongst that bounch to open it withall ; But in the same a little grate was pight, Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd did call With all his powre, to weet if living wight Were housed there within, whom he en- largen might. Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmur- ing voyce These pitteous plain tes and dolours did resound : ' O! who is that, which bringes me happy choyce Of death, that here lye dying every stound, Yet live perforce in balefuU darkenesse 1 -- • bound? "For now three Moones have changed thrice their hew, And have been thrice hid underneath the ground, Since I the heavens chearefull face did vew. O! welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew. ' Which when that Champion heard, with percing point Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore ; And trembling horrour ran through every joynt, For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore : Which shaking off, he rent that yron dore With furious force and indignation fell ; Where entred in, his foot could find no flore, But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell, That breathed ever forth a filthie banef ull smell. XL. But nether darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands, Nor noyous smell, his purpose could with- hold, (Entire affection hateth nicer hands) But that with constant zele and corage bold. After long paines and labors manifold. He found the meanes that Prisoner up to reare ; Whose feeble thighes, unable to uphold His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare ; A ruefuU spectacle of death and ghastly drere. XLI. His sad dull eies, deepe sunck in hollow pits, Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to view ; His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits. And empty sides deceived of their dew, Could make a stony hart his hap to rew ; His rawbone amies, whose mighty brawned bowrs Were wont to rive Steele plates, and hel- mets hew, Were clene consum'd; and all his vital! powres Decayd, and al his flesh shronk up like withered flowres. XLII. AVhome when his Lady saw, to him she ran With hasty joy : to see him made her glad, And sad to view his visage pale and wan, Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad. CANTO VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 69 Tho, wheu her well of teares she wasted had, She said ; ' Ah dearest Lord ! what evill starre On you hath frownd, and pourd his in- fluence bad, That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre, And this misseeining hew your manly looks doth marre ? XLIII. * But welcome now, my Loi*d in wele or woe, Whose presence I have lackt too long a day: Aiid fie on Fortune, mine avowed foe, Whose wrathful wreakes them selves doe now alay ; And for these wronges shall treble pen- aunce pay Of treble good : good growes of evils priefe.' The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay. Had no delight to treaten (9l his griefe ; His long endured famine needed more relief e. XLIV. ' Faire Lady,' then vSaid that victorious knight, ' The things, that grievous were to doe, or beare, Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight; Best musicke breeds delight in loathing eare : But th' only good that growes of passed feare Is to be wise, and ware of like agein. This daies ensample hath this lesson deare Deepe written in my heart with yron pen. That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men. XLV. 'Henceforth, Sir knight, take to you wonted strength, And maister these mishaps with patient might, Loe ! where your foe lies strecht in mon- strous length ; And loe! that wicked woman in your sight. The roote of all your care and wretched plight. Now in your powre, to let her live, or die.' 'To doe her die,' (quoth Una) 'were de- spiglit, And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy; But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.' So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid. And robd of roiall robes, and purple pall, And ornaments that richly were displaid ; Ne spared they to strip her naked all. Then, when they had despoyld her tire and call. Such as she was their eies might her be- hold. That her misshaped parts did them appall : A loathly, wriuckled hag, ill favoured, old. Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told. Her crafty head was altogether bald. And, as in hate of honorable eld, Was overgrowue with scurfe and filthy scald ; Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld. And her sowre breath abhominably smeld ; Her dried dugs, lyke bladders lacking wind, Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld ; Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind. So scabby was that would have loathd all womankind. Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind. My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write ; But at her rompe she growing had behind A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight; And eke her feete most monstrous were in sight ; For one of them was like an Eagles claw, With griping talaunts armd to greedy fight; The other like a beares uneven paw. More ugly shape yet never living creature saw. XLIX. Which when the knights bcLeUl amazd they were. And wondred at so fowle deformed wight. ' Such then,' (said Una,) ' as she seemeth here, Such is the face of falshood : such the sight Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light Is laid away, and counterfesaunce knowne.' Thus when they had the witch disrobed quight, And all her filthy feature open showne, 70 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. They let her goe at will, and wander waies unknowne. L. Shee, flying fast from heavens hated face, And from the world that her discovered wide, Fled to the wastfuU wildernesse apace. From living eies her open shame to hide, And lurkt in rocks and caves, long un- espide. But that faire crew of knights, and Una faire, Did in that castle afterwards abide, To rest them selves, and weary powres repaire ; Where store they fownd of al that dainty was and rare. CANTO IX. His loves and lignage Arthure tells : The knights knitt friendly bands : Sir Trevisan flies from Despe\-re, Whom Kedcros knight withstands. O GOODLY golden chayne, wherewith yfere The vertues linked are in lovely wize ; And noble miudes of yore allyed were, In brave poursuitt of chevalrous emprize. That none did others safety despize, Nor aid envy to him in need that stands ; But friendly each did others praise devize. How to advaunce with favourable hands, As this good Prince redeemd the Red- crosse knight from bands. Who when their powres, empayrd through labor long. With dew repast they had recured well. And that weake captive wight now wexed strong. Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell, But forward fai'e as their adventures fell : But, ere they parted, Una faire besought That strauuger knight his name and na- tion tell ; Least so great good, as he for her had wrought. Should die unknown, and buried be in thankles thought. * Faire virgin,' (said the Prince,) * yee me require A thing without the compas of mv witt ; For both the lignage, and the certein Sire, From which I sprong, from mee are hidden yitt; For all so soone as life did me admitt Into this world, and shewed hevens light. From mothers pap I taken was unfitt, And streight deliver'd to a Fary knight, To be upbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might. ' Unto Old Timon he me brought bylive ; Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene In warlike feates th' expertest man alive, And is the wisest now on earth I weene : His dwelling is low in a valley greene, Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore, From whence the river Dee, as silver cleene. His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore ; There all my dales he traind mee up in vertuous lore. V. ' Thither the great magicien Merlin came. As was his use, ofttimes to visitt mee ; For he had charge my discipline to frame. And Tutors nouriture to oversee. Him oft and oft I askt in privity. Of what loines and what lignage I did spring ; Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee, That I was sonne and heire unto a king, As time in her just term the truth to light should bring.' ' Well worthy impe,' said then the Lady gent, ' And Pnpill fitt for such a Tutors hand! But what adventure, or what high intent, Hath brought you hither into Faery land, Aread, Prince Arthure, crowne of Martiall band ? ' ' Full hard it is,' (quoth he) * to read aright The course of heavenly cause, or under- stand The secret meaning of th' eternall might. CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 71 That rules mens waies, and rules the thoughts of living wight. 'For whether he, through fatal deepe foresight, Me hither sent for cause to me unghest ; Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest, With forced fury following his behest, Me hither brought by wayes yet never found. You to have helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.' *Ah! courteous Knight,' (quoth she) ' what secret wound Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart on ground ? ' * Dear Dame,' (quoth he) * you sleeping sparkes awake, Which, troubled once, into huge flames will grow ; Ne ever will their fervent fury slake, Till living moysture into smoke do flow. And wasted life doe lye in ashes low : Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire, But, told, it flames; and, hidden, it does glow, I will revele what ye so much desire. Ah, Love ! lay down thy bow, the whiles I may respyre. ' It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares. When corage first does creepe in manly chest. Then first the cole of kindly heat appeares To kindle love in every living brest : But me had warnd old Timons wise behest, Those creeping flames by reason to sub- dew, Before their rage grew to so great unrest, As miserable lovers use to rew. Which still wex old in woe, whiles wo stil wexeth new. * That ydle name of love, and lovers life, As losse of time, and vertues enimy, I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife, In middest of their mournfull Tragedy ; Ay wont to laugh when them I heard to cry, And blow the fire which them to sishes brent : Their God himself e, grievd at my libertie, Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent ; But I them warded all with wary govern- ment. XI. * But all in vaine : no fort can be so strong, Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sownd, But will at last be wonne with battrie long. Or unawares at disavantage fownd. Nothing is sure that growes on earthly grownd ; And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might. And boastes in beauties chaine not to be bo wnd , Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight, And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours most despight. 'En sample make of him your haplesse joy. And of my selfe now mated, as ye see ; AVhose prouder vaunt that proud avenging boy Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertee. For on a day, prickt forth with jollitee Of looser life and heat of hardiment, Raunging the forest wide on courser free, The fields, the floods, the heavens, with one consent, Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour mine intent. ' Forwearied with my sportes, I did alight From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd ; The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight, And pillow was my helmett fayre dis- playd ; Whiles every sence the humour sweet embayd. And slombi-ing soft my hart did steale away, Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay: So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny day. XIV. * Most goodly glee and lovely blandish- ment She to me made, and badd me love her deare : 72 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. For dearely sure her love was to me bent, As, when just time expired, should appeare. But whether dreames delude, or true it were, Was never hart so ravisht with delight, Ne living man like wordes did ever heare, As she to me delivered all that night ; And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight. XV. ' When I awoke, and found her place devoyd, And nought but pressed gras where she had lyen , I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd. And washed all her place with watry eyen. From that day forth I lov'd that face divyne ; From that day forth I cast in carefull mynd, To seek her out with labor and long tyne, And never vowd to rest till her I fynd : Nyne monethes I seek in vain, yet ni'll that vow unbynd.' Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale. And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray ; Yett still he strove to cloke his inward bale, And hide the smoke that did his fire dis- play. Till gentle Una thus to him gan say: ' O happy Queene of Faeries ! that hast fowud, Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may Defend thine honour, and thy foes con- fownd. True loves are often sown, but seldom grow on grownd.' 'Thine, O! then,' said the gentle Red- crosse knight, * Next to that Ladies love, shalbe the place, O fayrest virgin! full of heavenly light, Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race. Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case. And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life, Of that great Queene may well gaine worthie grace ; For onely worthie you through prowes priefe, Yf living man mote worthie be to be her ]^pf-.' So diversly discoursing of their loves, The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew. And sad remembraunce now the Prince amoves With fresh desire his voyage to pursew ; Als Una earnd her traveill to renew. Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd. And love establish each to other trew, Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd. And eke, as pledges firme, right hands together joynd. XIX. Prince Arthur gave a boxe of Diamond sure, ■ Embowd with gold and gorgeous orna- ment. Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure. Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent. That any wownd could heale incontinent. Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gave A booke, wherein his Saveours testament Was writt with golden letters rich and brave : A worke of wondrous grace, and hable soules to save. XX. Thus beene they parted ; Arthur on his way To seeke his love, and th' other for to fight With Unaes foe, that all her realme did pray. But she, now weighing the decayed plight And shrunken synewes of her chosen knight. Would not a while her forward course pursew, Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull fight, Till he recovered had his former hew ; For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew. XXI. So as they traveild, lo! they gan espy An armed knight towards them gallop fast. That seemed from some feared foe to fly, Or other griesly thing that him aghast. Still as he fledd his eye was backward cast. As if his feare still followed himbehynd: CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 73 Als flew his steed as lie his bandes had brast. And with his winged heeles did tread the wyud, As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his kynd. XXII. Nigh as he drew, they might perceive his head To bee uuarmd, and curld uncombed heares Upstariug stiff e, dismaid with uncouth dread : Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares, Nor life in limbe; and, to increase his feares. In fowle reproch of knighthoodes fayre degree, About his neck an hempen rope he weares, That with his glistriug armes does ill agree ; But he of rope or armes has now no memoree. XXIII. The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast, To west what mister wight was so dis- mayd. There him he findes all sencelesse and aghast, That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd ; Whom hardly he from flying forward stayd. Till he these wordes to him deliver might : * Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd , And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight ? For never knight I saw in such misseem- uig plight.' XXIV. He answei'd nought at all ; but adding new Feare to his first amazment, staring wyde With stony eyes and hartlesse hollow hew, Astonisht stood, as one that had aspyde Inferuall furies with their chaines uu'tyde. Him yett againe, and yett againe, bespake The gentle knight; who nought to him replyde ; But, trembling every joynt, did inly quake, And foltring tongue, at last, these words seemd forth to shake ; XXV. * For Gods deare love. Sir knight, doe me not stay ; For loe! he comes, he comes fast after mee.' Eft looking back would faine have runne away; But he him forst to stay, and tell en free The secrete cause of his perplexitie : Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach Could his blood frosen hart emboldened bee. But through his boldnes rather feare did reach ; Yett, forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach. * And am I now in safetie sure,' (quoth he) ' From him that would have forced me to dye? And is the point of death now turud fro mee, That I may tell this haplesse history ? ' ' Fear nought,' (quoth he) * no damiger now is nye.' ' Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,' (Said he) ' the which with this unlucky eye I late beheld; and, had not greater grace Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place. XXVII. ' I lately chaunst (Would I had never chaunst!) AVith a fayre knight to keepen companee, Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe ad- vaunst In all affayres, and was both bold and free ; But not so happy as mote happy bee : He lov'd, as was his lot, a Lady gent, That him againe lov'd in the least degree ; For she was proud, and of too high intent, And joyd to see her lover languish and lament : XXVIII. * From whom retouruing sad and com- fortlesse. As on the way together we did fare. We met that villen, (God from him me blesse !) That cursed wiglit, from whom I scapt whyleare, A man of hell that calls himselfe De- spayre : Who first us greets, and after fayre areedes Of tydinges straunge, and of adventures rare : So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes, Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes. 74 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book XXIX. * Which -when he knew, and felt our feeble harts Embost with bale, and bitter by ting griefe, Which love had launched with his deadly darts, With wounding words, and termes of foule repriefe, He pluckt from us all hope of dew relief e. That earst us held in love of lingring life; Then hopelesse, hartlesse, gan the cun- ning thiefe Perswade us dye, to stint all further strife : To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty knife. XXX. ' With which sad instrument of hasty death. That wofuU lover, loathing lenger light, A wyde way made to let forth living breath : But I, more fearefull or more lucky wight, Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight, Fledd fast away, halfe dead with dying feare ; Ne yet assur'd of life by you, Sir knight, Whose like infirmity like chaunce may beare ; But God you never let his charmed speaches heare ! ' XXXI. 'How may a man,' (said he) 'with idle speach Be wonne to spoyle the Castle of his health ? ' ' I wote, ' (quoth he) ' whom tryall late did teach. That like would not for all this worldes wealth. His subtile tong like dropping honny mealt'h Into the heart, and searcheth every vaine ; That, ere one be aware, by secret stealth His powre is reft, and weaknes doth re- maine. O! never. Sir, desire to try his guilefull traine.' XXXII. 'Certes,' (sayd he) ' hence shall I never rest, Till I that treachours art have heard and tryde : And you, Sir knight, whose name mote I request, Of grace do me unto his cabin guyde.' ' I, that bight Trevisan,' (quoth he) ' will ryde Against my liking backe to doe you grace : But nor for gold nor glee will I abyde By you, when ye arrive in that same place ; For lever had I die then see his deadly face.' XXXIII. Ere long they come where that same wicked wight His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave, For underneath a cragy clilf ypight, Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave. That still for carrion carcases doth crave: On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly Owle, Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave Far from that haunt all other chearefull fowle ; And all about it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle. xxxiv. And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever seene. Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees ; On which had many wretches hanged beeue, Whose carcases were scattred on the greene. And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived there, That bare-head knight, for dread and dolefull teeue, Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare ; But th' other forst him staye, and com- forted in feare. XXXV. 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 un- " bound, Disord red hong about his shoulders round. And hid his face, through which his hol- low 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 dyne. CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 75 XXXVI. 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 dreary corse, whose life away did pas, All wallowd in his own yet luke-warme blood, That from his wound yet welled fresh, alas! In which a rusty knife fast fixed .stood, And made an open passage for the gush- ing flood. xxxvir. Which piteous spectacle, approving trew The wofuU tale that Trevisan had told, Wheuas the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew. With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold Him to avenge before his blood were cold. And to the villein sayd ; ' Thou damned wight. The authour of this fact we here behold. What justice can but judge against thee right. With thine owne blood to price his blood, here shed in sight ? ' XXXVIII. ' What franticke fit,' (quoth he) ' hath thus distraught Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to give ? Wliat justice ever other judgement taught, But he should dye who merites not to live ? None els to death this man despayring drive But his owne guiltie mind, deserving death. Is then unjust to each his dew to give ? Or let him dye, that loatheth living breath, Or let him die at ease, that liveth here uneath? XXXIX. ' Who travailes by the wearie wand ring way. To come unto his wished home in haste, And meetes a flood that doth his passage stay, Is not great grace to helpe him over past, Or free his feet that in the myre sticke fast? Most envious man, that grieves at neigh- bours good; And fond, that joyest in the woe thou hast! Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood Upon the baucke, yet wilt thy selfe not pas the flood? ' He there does now enjoy eternall rest And happy ease, which thou doest want and crave. And further from it daily wanderest : What if some little payne the passage have, That makes f rayle flesh to feare the bitter Avave, Is not short payne well borne, that bringes long ease. And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet grave? Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, Ease after warrc, ;'eath after life, does greatly please.' The knight much wondred at his sud- deine wit. And sayd ; ' The terme of life is limited, Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten, it: The souldier may not move from watch- full sted. Nor leave his stand untill his Captaiue bed.' ' Who life did limit by almightie doome,' (Quoth he) ' kuowes'best the termes es- tablished ; And he, that points the Centonell his roome, Doth license him depart at soimd of morn- ing droome.' XLII. 'Is not his deed, what ever thing is donne In heaven and earth? Did not he all create To die againe? All ends that was be- gonne : Their times in his eternall booke of fate Are written sure, and have their certein date. Who then can strive with strong neces- sitie, That holds the world in his still chaung- ing state, Or shuiine the death ordaynd by des- tinie ? AVhen houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why. 76 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. ' The lenger life, I wote, the greater sin ; The greater sin, the greater punishment: All those great battels, which thou boasts to win Through strife, and blood-shed, and avengement. Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent ; For life must life, and blood must blood, repay. Is not enough thy evill life forespent ? For he that once hath missed the right way, The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray. Then dop XLIV. *urtaer goe, no further l-!'\'ne, and to thy rest betake, yvent. thp^t ^'feense- ?n may; o'thli-c that may it loved make, ..i. rather cause it to forsake ? : ^^^,«se, ago, losse, labour, sor- ruw, strife, Payne, hunger, cold that makes the hart f . , r uakc And ever fickle fortune rageth rife; All which, and thousands mo, do make a loathsome life. 'Thou, wretched rr;^n, of death hast greatest need, If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy state ; For never knight, that dared warlike deed. More luckless dissaventures did amate : Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late Thy life shutt up for death so oft did call ; And though good lucke prolonged hath thy date, Yet death then would the like mishaps forestall, Into the which hereafter thou maist happen fall. 'Why then doest thou, O man of sin! desire To draw thy dayes forth to their last de- gree ? Is not the measure of thy sinfiill hire High heaped up with huge iniquitee. Against the day of wrath to burden thee? Is not enough, that to this Lady mild Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjuree, And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vild. With whom in al abuse thou hast thy selfe defild ? XLVII. ' Is not he just, that all this doth behold From highest heveu, and beares an equall eie? Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold, And guilty be of thine impietie? Is not his lawe. Let every sinner die ; Die shall all flesh? What then must needs be donne. Is it not better to doe willinglie. Then linger till the glas be all out ronne ? Death is the end of woes : die soone, O faeries soune ! ' The knight was much ennioved with his speach, That as a swords poyut thiough his hart did perse, And in his con.science made a secrete breHcii, Well knowing trewall Ihat he did Toheise, And to his iresh remembraunce did re- verse The ugly vew of his deformed crimes ; That- all his manly powres it did disperse, As he were charmed with inchaunted rimes; That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted oftentimes. XLIX. In which amazement when the Mis- creaunt Perceived him to waver, weake and fraile. Whiles trembling horror did his conscience daunt. And hellish anguish did his soule assaile ; To drive him to despaire, and quite to quaile, Hee shewd him, painted in a table plaine. The damned ghosts that doe in torments waile. And thousand feends that doe them end- lesse paine With fire and brimstone, which for ever shall remaine. The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid, That nought but death before his eies he saw, And ever burning wrath before him laid. By righteous sentence of th' Almighties law. CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 77 Then gau the villein him to overcraw, And brought unto hiin swords, ropes, poison, fire. And all that might him to perdition draw ; And bad him choose what death he would desire ; For death was dew to him that had pro- vokt Gods ire. But, whenas none of them he saw him take, He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene. And gave it him in hand ; his hand did quake And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene, And troubled blood through his pale face was scene To come and goe with tidings from the heart, As it a ronning messenger had beene. At last, resolv'd to work his finall smart. He lifted up his hand, that backe againe did start. LII. Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine The crudled cold ran to her well of life. As in a swowne : but, soone reliv'd againe, Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife. And threw it to the ground, enraged rife. And to him said; ' Fie, fie, faint hearted Knight ! What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife ? Is this the battaile which thou vauntst to fight With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright ? ' Come ; come away, fraile, feeble, fleshly wight, Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart, Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright : In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part ? Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art? W^here justice growes, there grows eke greater grace. The which doth quench the broud of hellish smart. And that accurst hand-writing doth de- face. Arise, sir Knight; arise, and leave this cursed place.' So up he rose, and thence amounted streight. Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest Would safe depart, for all his subtile sleight, He chose an halter from among the rest, And with it hong him selfe, unhid, un- blest. But death he could not worke himselfe thereby ; For thousand timbL he so him selfe had drest, Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die. Till he should die his last, that is, eter- nally. CANTO X. Her faithfull knight faire LTna briugs To house ofHolinesse; Where he is taught repentaunce, and The way to hevenly blesse. What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might And vaine assuraunce of mortality, Which, all so soone as it doth come to fight Against spirituall foes, yields by and by. Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly ! Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill. That thorough grace hath gained victory : If any strength we have, it is to ill. But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will. II. By that which lately hapned Una saw That this her knight was feeble, and too faint ; And all his sinewes woxen weake and raw, Through long enprisonment, and hard constraint, Which he endured in his late restraint. That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight. 78 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Therefore, to cherish him with diets daint, She cast to bring him where he chearen might, Till he recovered had his late decayed plight. III. There was an auncient house nor far away, Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore And pure unspotted life: so well, they say. It governd was, and guided evermore. Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore ; Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpe- lesse pore : All night she spent in bidding of her bedes, And all the day in doing good and godly deedes. Dame Cselia men did her call, as thought From heaven to come, or thither to arise ; The mother of three daughters, well up- brought In goodly thewes, and godly exercise: The eldest two, most sober, chast, and wise, Fidelia and Speranza, virgins were ; Though spousd, yet wanting wedlocks solemnize ; But faire Charissa to a lovely fere Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere. Arrived there, the dore they find fast lockt, For it was warely watched night and day. For feare of many foes ; but, when they knockt. The Porter opened unto them streight way. He was an aged syre, all hory gray. With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow. Wont on a staff e his feeble steps to stay, Hight Humilta. They passe in, stouping low; For streight and narrow was the way which he did show. Each goodly thing is hardest to begin ; But, entred in, a spatious court they see. Both plaine and pleasaunt to be walked in ; Where them does meete a francklin faire and free, And entertaines with comely courteous glee; His name was Zele, that him right well became : For in his speaches and behaveour hee Did labour lively to expresse the same, And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came. VII. There fayrely them receives a gentle Squyre, Of myld demeanure and rare courtesee, Right cleanly clad in comely sad attyre ; In word and deede that shewd great modestee, And knew his good to all of each degree, Hight Reverence. He them with speaches meet Does faire entreat ; no courting nicetee, But simple, trew, and eke unfained sweet. As might become a Squyre so great persons to greet. VIII. And afterwardes them to his Dame he leades. That aged Dame, the Lady of the place, Who all this while was busy at her beades ; Which doen, she up arose with seemely grace, And toward them full matronely did pace. Where, when that fairest Una she beheld, Whom well she knew to spring from hevenly race. Her heart with joy unwonted inly sweld, As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld: IX. And, her embracing, said; 'O happy earth. Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread ! Most vertuous virgin, borne of hevenly berth. That, to redeeme thy woefuU parents head From tyrans rage and ever-dying dread. Hast wandred through the world now long a day, Yett ceassest not thy weary soles to lead ; What grace hath thee now hither brought this way? Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting hither stray ? X. ' Straunge thing it is an errant knight to see Here in this place ; or any other wight. That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee, That chose the narrow path, or seeke the right : CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 79 All keepe the broad high way, and take delight With many rather for to goe astray, And be partakers of their evill plight, Then with a few to walke the rightest way. O foolish men ! why hast ye to your own decay ? ' XI. * Thy selfe to see, and tyred lirabes to rest, O matrone sage,' (quoth she) * I hither came ; And this good knight his way with me addrest, Ledd with thy prayses, and broad-blazed fame. That up to heven is blowne.' The auncient Dame Him goodly greeted in her modest guyse, And enterteynd them both, as best became, With all the court' si es that she could devyse, Ne wanted ought to shew her bounteous or wise. XII. Thus as they gan of sondrie thinges devise, Loe! two most goodly virgins came in place, Ylinked arme in arme in lovely wise: With countenance demure, and modest grace, They numbred even steps and equall pace ; Of which the eldest, that Fidelia bight. Like sunny beames threw from her Christall face That could have dazd the rash beholders sight. And round about her head did shine like hevens light. She was araied all in lilly white. And in her right hand bore a cup of gold. With wine and water fild up to the bight. In which a Serpent did hims^lfe enfold. That horrour made to all that did behold ; But she no whitt did chaunge her constant mood : And in her other hand she fast did hold A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood i Wlierein darke things were writt, hard to be understood. Her younger sister, that Speranza bight, Was clad in blew, that her beseemed well; Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight. As was her sister: whether dread did dwell Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell. Upon her arme a silver anchor lay, Whereon she leaned ever, as befell ; And ever up to heven, as she did pray. Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarved other way. XV. They, seeing Una, towardes her gan wend. Who them encounters with like courtesee ; Many kind speeches they betweene them spend. And greatly joy each other for to see : Then to the knight with shamefast mod- estie They turne themselves, at Uuaes meeke request, And him salute with well beseeming glee; Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best. And goodly gan discourse of many a noble gest. XVI. Then Una thus: 'But she, your sister deare. The deare Charissa, where is she become? Or wants she health, or busie is els- where ? ' ' Ah ! no,' said they, ' but forth she may not come ; For she of late is lightned of her wombe. And hath encreast the world with one' Sonne more, That her to see should be but troublesome.' 'Indeed,' (quoth she) 'that should her trouble sore ; But thankt be God, and her encrease so evermore ! ' xvu. Then said the aged Caelia, ' Deare dame, And you, good Sir, I wote that of youre toyle And labors long, through which ye hither came. Ye both forwearied be: therefore, a whyle I read you rest, and to your bowres re- coyle.' Then called she a Groome, that forth him ledd Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile Of puissant amies, and laid in easie bedd: His name was meeke Obedience, rightfully aredd. 8o THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. XVIII. Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, And bodies were refresht with dew repast, Fayre Una gan Fidelia fayre request, To have her knight into her schoolehous plaste. That of her heavenly learning he might taste, And heare the wisedom of her wordes divine. She graunted ; and that knight so much agraste. That she him taught celestiall discipline, And opened his dull eyes, that light mote in them shine. And that her sacred Booke, with blood ywritt. That none could reade except she did them teach, She unto him disclosed every whitt ; And heavenly documents thereout did preach, That weaker witt of man could never reach ; Of God ; of grace ; of justice ; of free-will ; That wonder was to heare her goodly speach : For she was hable with her wordes to kill, And rayse againe to life the hart that she did thrill. And, when she list poure out her larger sp right, She would commaund the hasty Sunne to stay. Or backward turne his course from hevens hight : Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay ; Dry-shod to passe she parts the flouds in tway; And eke huge mountaines from their native seat See would commaund themselves to beare away, And throw in raging sea with roaring threat. Almightie God her gave such powre and puissaunce great. The faithfull knight now grew in little space, By hearing her, and by her sisters lore. To such perfection of all hevenly grace, That wretched world began for to abhore. And mortall life gan loath as thing forlore, Greevd with remembrance of his wicked wayes. And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore, That he desirde to end his wretched dayes : So much the dart of sinful! guilt the soule dismay es. XXII. But wise Speranza gave him comfort sweet. And taught him how to take assured hold Upon her silver anchor, as was meet ; Els had his sinnes, so great and manifold. Made him forget all that Fidelia told. In this distressed doubtfull agony. When him his dearest Una did behold Disdeining life, desiring leave to dye, She found her selfe assayld with great perplexity ; And came to Cselia to declare her smart ; Who, well acquainted with that commune plight. Which siufull horror workes in wounded hart. Her wisely comforted all that she might, With goodly counsell and advisement right ; And streightway sent with carefull dili- gence, To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight In that disease of grieved conscience. And well could cure the same : His name was Patience. Who, comming to that sowle-diseased knight. Could hardly him intreat to tell his grief : Which knowue, and all that uoyd his heavie spright Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply relief Of salves and med'cines, which had pass- ing prief ; And thereto added wordes of wondrous might. By which to ease he him recured brief. And much aswag'd the passion of his plight, That he his paine endur'd, as seeming now more light. XXV. But yet the cause and root of all his ill. Inward corruption and infected sin, CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 8i Not pui-ff'd nor heald, behind remained still, And festring sore did ranckle yett within, Close creeping twixt the marow and the skin: Which to extirpe, he laid him privily Downe in a darksome lowly place far in, Whereas he meant his corrosives to apply, And with streight diet tame his stubborne malady. XXVI. In ashes and sackcloth he did array His daiutie corse, proud humors to abate ; And dieted with fasting every day, The swelling of his woundes to mitigate ; And made him pray both earely and eke late: And ever, as superfluous flesh did rott, Amendment readie still at hand did wayt, To pluck it out with pincers fyrie whott, That soone in him was lefte no one cor- rupted jott. XXVII. And bitter Penaunce, with an yron whip, Was wont him once to disple every day: And sharp Remorse his hart did prick and nip, That drops of blood thence like a well did play : And sad Repentance used to embay His blamefuU body in salt water sore, The filthy blottes of sin to wash away. So in short space they did to health re- store The man that would not live, but erst lay at deathes dore. XXVIII. In which his torment often was so great, That like a Lyon he would cry and rore, And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat. His owne deare Una, hearing evermore His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore Her guiltlesse garments and her golden heare, For pitty of his payne and anguish sore : Yet all with patience wisely she did beare, For well she wist his cryme could els be never cleare. Whom, thus recover'd by wise Patience And trew Repentaunce, they to Una brought ; Who, joyous of his cured conscience, Him dearely kist, and fayrely eke be- sought Himselfe to chearish, and consuming thought To put away out of his carefull brest. By this Charissa, late in child-bed brought. Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull nest : To her fayre Una brought this un- acquainted guest. She was a woman in her freshest age, Of wondrous beauty, and of bounty rare, With goodly grace and comely personage, That was on earth not easie to compare ; Full of great love, but Cupids wanton snare As hell she hated ; chaste in worke and will : Her necke and brests were ever open bare, That ay thereof her babes might sucke their fill ; The rest was all in yellow robes arayed still. A multitude of babes about her hong, Playing their sportes, that joyd her to behold ; Whom still she fed whiles they were weake and young. But thrust them forth still as they wexed old: And on her head she wore a tyre of gold, Adornd with gemmes and owches won- drous fayre. Whose passing price uneath was to be told: And by her syde there sate a gentle payre Of turtle doves, she sitting in an yvory chayre. XXXII. The knight and Una eutring fayre her greet. And bid her joy of that her happy brood ; Who them requites with court'sies seem- ing meet, And entertaynes with friendly chearefull mood. Then Una her besought, to be so good As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight, 82 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Now after all his torment well withstood In that sad house of Penaunce, where his spright Had past the paines of hell and long- enduring night. XXXIII. She was right joyous of her just re- quest ; And taking by the hand that Faeries Sonne, Gan him instruct in everie good behest, Of -love, and righteousnes, and well to donne ; And wrath and hatred warely to shonne. That drew on men Gods hatred and his wrath, And many soules in dolours had for- donne : In which when him she well instructed hath. From thence to heaven she teacheth him the ready path. XXXIV. Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guyde, An auncient matrons she to her does call, Whose sober lookes her wisedom well descryde : Her name was Mercy ; well knowne over- all To be both gratious and eke liberall : To whom the carefull charge of him she gave, To leade aright, that he should never fall In all his waies through this wide worldes wave; That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might save. -> XXXV. The godly Matrone by the hand him beares Forth from her presence, by a narrow way, Scattred with bushy thornes and ragged breares, Which still before him she remov'd away, That nothing might his ready passage stay: And ever, when his feet encombred were. Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray. She held him fast, and firmely did up- beare. As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare. Eftsoones unto an holy Hospitall, That was foreby the way, she did him bring ; In which seven Bead-men, that had vowed all Their life to service of high heavens King, Did spend their dales in doing godly thing. Their gates to all were open evermore, That by the wearie way were travelling ; And one sate wayting ever them before. To call in commers-by that needy were and pore. XXXVII. The first of them, that eldest was and best, Of all the house had charge and governe- ment, As Guardian and Steward of the rest. His office was to give entertainement And lodging unto all that came and went ; Not unto such as could him feast againe. And double quite for that he on them spent ; But such as want of harbour did con- straine : Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine. XXXVIII. The second was as Almner of the place : His office was the hungry for to feed. And thristy give to drinke ; a worke of grace. He feard not once himselfe to be in need, Ne car'd to hoord for those whom he did breede : The grace of God he layd up still in store. Which as a stocke he left unto his seede. He had enough ; what need him care for more ? And had he lesse, yet some he would give to the pore. XXXIX. The third had of their wardrobe cus- tody. In which were not rich tyres, nor gar- ments gay. The plumes of pride, and winges of vanity. But clothes meet to keepe keene cold away. And naked nature seemely to aray ; With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad, CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 83 The images of God in earthly clay ; And, if that no spare clothes to give he had, His owne cote he would cut, and it dis- tribute glad. The fourth appointed by his office was Poore prisoners to relieve with gratious ayd, And captives to redeerae with price of bras From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd : And though they faulty were, yet well he wayd, That God to us forgiveth every howre Much more then that why they in bauds were layd ; And he, that harrowd hell with heavie stowre, The faulty soules from thence brought to his heavenly bowre. XLI. The fift had charge sick persons to attend, And comfort those in point of death which lay; For them most needeth comfort in the end, When sin, and hell, and death, doe most dismay The feeble soule departing hence away. All is but lost, that living we be- stow, If not well ended at our dying day. O man ! have mind of that last bitter throw ; For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever low. XLII. The sixt had charge of them now being dead. In seemely sort their corses to engrave, And deck with dainty flowres their bry- dall bed, That to their heavenly spouse both sweet and brave They might appeare, when he their soules shall save. The wondrous workmanship of Gods owne mould. Whose face he made all beastes to feare, and gave All in his hand, even dead we honour should. Ah, dearest God, me graunt, I dead be not defould ! XLIII. The seventh, now after death and buriall done. Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead And wydowes ayd, least they should be undone : In face of judgement he their right would plead, Ne ought the powre of mighty men did dread In their defence ; nor would for gold or fee Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to tread ; And, when they stood in most necessitee. He did supply their want, and gave them ever free. XLIV. There when the Elfin knight arrived was. The first and chiefest of the seven, whose care Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas; Where seeing Mercie, that his steps upbare And alwaies led, to her with reverence rare He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse. And seemely welcome for her did prepare : For of their order she was Patronesse, Albe Charissa were their chiefest found- eresse. XLV. There she awhile him stayes, himself e to rest, That to the rest more hable he might bee ; During which time, in every good behest, And godly worke of Almes and charitee, Shee him instructed with great industree. Shortly therein so perfect he became, That, from the first unto the last degi-c:', His mortall life he learned had to frame In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame. Thence forward by that painfull way they pas Forth to an hill that was both steepe and On top whereof a sacred chappell was. And eke a litle Hermitage thereby, Wherein an aged holy man did lie. That day and night said his devotion, Ne other worldly busines did apply : His name was hevenly Contemplation ; Of God and goodnes was his medita- tion. 84 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. XLVII. Great grace that old mau to him given had ; For God he often saw from heavens hight : All were his earthly eien both blunt and bad, And through great age had lost their kindly sight, Yet wondrous quick and persaunt was his spright, As Eagles eie that can behold the Sunne. That hill they scale with all their powre and might, That his fraile thighes, nigh weary and fordonne, Gan faile ; but by her helpe the top at last he wonne. There they doe finds that godly aged Sire, With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed; As hoary frost with spangles doth attire The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded. ■^^ETach bone might through his body well be red And every sinew scene, through his long fast: For nought he car'd his carcas long unfed ; His mind was full of spiritual repast. And pyn'd his flesh to keepe his body low and chast. Who, when these two approching he aspide, At their first presence grew agrieved sore, That forst him lay his hevenly thoughts aside ; And had he not that Dame respected more, Whom highly he did I'everence and adore, He would not once have moved for the knight. They him saluted, standing far afore, Who, well them greeting, humbly did requight, And asked to what end they clomb that tedious hight? 'What end,' (quoth she) 'should cause us take such paine, But that same end, which every living wight Should make his marke high heaven to attaine ? Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright With burning starres and everliving fire, Whereof the keies are to thy hand behight By wise Fidelia? Shee doth thee require. To shew it to this knight, according his desire.' LI. ' Thrise happy man,' said then the father grave, ' Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead, And shewes the way his sinfull soule to save ! Who better can the way to heaven aread Then thou thyself e, that was both borne and bred In hevenly throne, where thousand Angels shine ? Thou doest the praiers of the righteous sead Present before the majesty divine, And his avenging wrath to clemency in- cline. LII. ' Yet, since thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne. Then come, thou man of earth, and see the way, That never yet was seene of Faeries sonne ; That never leads the traveller astray. But after labors long and sad delay. Brings them to joyous rest and endlesse blis. But first thou must a season fast and pray, Till from her bands the spi'ight assoiled is, And have her strength recur'd from fraile infirmitis.' That done, he leads him to the highest Mount J Such one as tliat same mighty man of God, That blood-red billowes, like a walled front. On either side disparted with his rod, I Till that his army dry-foot through them yod. Dwelt forty dales upon; where, writt in stone With bloody letters by the hand of God, The bitter doome of death and balefull mone He did receive, whiles flashing fire about him shone : LIV. Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie, CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 85 Adornd with fruitful! Olives all arownd, Is, as it were for endlesse memory Of that deare Lord who oft thereon was fownd, For ever with^aTflowrnig j>irloud crownd : Or like that pleasauut Mount, that is for ay Through famous Poets verse each where renownd, On which the thrise three learned Ladies play Their hevenly notes, and make full many a lovely lay. LV. From thence, far off he unto him did shew A little path that was both steepe and long. Which to a goodly Citty led his vew ; Whose wals and towres were builded high and strong Of perle and precious stone, that earthly tong Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell; Too high a ditty for my simple song. The Citty of the greate king bight it well, Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell. LVI. As he thereon stood gazing, he might see The blessed Angels to and fro descend From highest heven in gladsome com- panee, And with great joy into that Citty wend. As commonly as frend does with his frend. Whereat he wondred much, and gan en- quere, What stately building durst so high extend Her lofty towres unto the starry sphere, And what unknowen nation there empeo- pled were? *Fai re Knight,' (quoth he) 'Hierusalem that is, The new Hierusalem, that God has built For those to dwell in that are chosen his. His chosen people, purg'd from sinful guilt With pretious blood, which cruelly was split On cursed tree, of that unspotted lam, That for the sinnes of al the world was kilt: Now are they Saints all in that Citty sam, More dear unto their God then younglings to their dam.' ' Till now,' said then the knight, * I weened well, That great Cleopolis, where I have beene. In which that fairest Faery Queene doth dwell. The fairest citty was that might be scene ; And that bright towre, all built of christall clene, Panthea, seemd the brighest thing that was; But now by proofe all otherwise I weene. For this great Citty that does far surpas. And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.' ' Most trew,' then said the holy aged man ; ' Yet is Cleopolis, for earthly frame, The fairest peece that eie beholden can ; And well beseemes all knights of noble name. That covett in th' immortall booke of fame To be eternized, that same to haunt, And doen their service to that soveraigne Dame, That glory does to them for guerdon graunt : For she is hevenly borne, and heaven may justly vaunt. ' And thou, faire ymp, sprong out from English race. How ever now accompted Elfins sonne. Well worthy doest thy service for her grace. To aide a virgin desolate, foredonne ; But when thou famous victory hast wonne. And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield, Thenceforth the suitt of earthly conquest shonne, And wash thy hands from guilt of bloody field: For blood can nought but sin, and wars but sorrows yield. 'Then seek this path that I to thee presage. Which after all to heaven shall thee send ; Then peaceably thy painefull pilgrimage To yonder same Hierusalem doe bend, Where is for thee ordained a blessed end : For thou, emongst those Saints whom thou doest see. 86 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Shalt be a Saint, and thine owue nations frend And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee, Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.' 'Unworthy wretch,' (quoth he) 'of so great grace, How dare I thinke such glory to attaine ? ' ' These, that have it attaynd, were in like cace, As wretched men, and lived in like paine.' ' But deeds of armes must I at last be f aine And Ladies love to leave, so dearely bought ? ' * What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,' (Said he) ' and bitter battailes all are fought ? As for loose loves, they'are vaine, and vanish into nought.' LXIII. ' O! let me not,' (quoth he) ' then turne agaiue Backe to the world, whose joyes so fruit- lesse are ; But let me heare for aie in peace remaine, Or streightway on that last long voiage fare, That nothing may my present hope em- pare.' ' That may not be,' (said he) ' ne maist thou yitt Forgoe that royal maides bequeathed care. Who did her cause into thy hand committ. Till from her cursed foe thou have her freely quitt.' * Then shall I soone,' (quoth he) * so God me grace, Abett that virgins cause disconsolate, And shortly back returne uuto this place. To walketliis way in Pilgrims poore estate. But now aread, old father, why of late Didst thou behight me borne of English blood , Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nomi- nate?' * That word shall I,' (said he) ' avouchen good, Sith to thee is unknowne the cradle of thy brood. * For, well I wote, thou springst from ancient race Of Saxon kinges, that have with mightie hand. And many bloody battailes fought in face. High reard their royall throne in Britans land, And vanquisht them, unable to withstand : From thence a Faery thee unweeting reft. There as thou slepst in tender swadling band. And her base Elfin brood there for thee left: Such, men do Chaungelings call, so chaung'd by Faeries theft. ' Thence she thee brought into this Faery lond, And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde ; Where thee a Ploughman all unweeting fond, As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde, And brought thee up in ploughmans state to byde. Whereof Georgos he thee gave to name ; Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde. To Faery court thou cam'st to seek for fame. And prove thy puissant armes, as seemes thee best became.' ' O holy Sire ! ' (quoth he) * how shall I quight The many favours I with thee have fownd, That hast my name and nation redd aright, And taught the way that does to heaven bovvnd ! ' This saide, ado wne he looked to the grownd To have returnd ; but dazed were his eyne Through passing brightnes, which did quite confound His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne. So darke are earthly thinges compard to things divine. At last, whenas himselfe he gan to fynd. To Una back he cast him to retyre, Who him awaited still with pensive mynd. Great thankes, and goodly meed, to that good syre He thens departing gave for his paynes byre : So came to IJna, who him joyd to see ; And, after litle rest, gan him desyre Of her adventure mynd full for to bee So leave they take of Caelia and her daughters three. CANTO XI. THE FAERIE QUEENE. CANTO XI. The knight ^^•ith that old Dragon fights Two days incessanth- : The third "him overthrowes, and gayns Most glorious victory. .from hand of living Mowre of many a layed High time now gan it wex for Una fayre To thinke of tliose lier captive Parents deare, And tiieir forwasted kingdom to repayre : Whereto whenas they now approched neare, AVith hartie wordes her knight she gan to cheare, And in her modest maner thus bespake : ' Deare knight, as deare as ever knight was deare, That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake, High heven behold the tedious toyle ye for me take ! II. ' Now are we come unto my native soyle. And to the place where all our perilles dwell ; Here hauntes that feend, and does his dayly spoyle ; Therefore, henceforth, bee at your keep- ing well, And ever ready for your foeman fell : The sparke of noble corage now awake, And strive your excellent selfe to excell : That shall ye evermore renowmed make Ibove all knights on earth, that batteill undertake.' And pointing forth, 'Lo! yonder is,' (said she) 'The brasen towre, in which my parents deare For dread of that huge feend emprisond be; Whom I from far see on the wall es appeare, Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare : And on the top of all I do espye The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare ; That, (O my Parents !) might I happily Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery ! ' IV. With that they heard a roaring hideous so wild, *rhat all the ay re with terror filled wyde, And seemd uneath to shake the stedfast ground. Eftsoones that dreadful Dragon they espyde. Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side Of a great hill, himself e like a great hill : But, all so soone as he from far descry de Those glistring amies that heven with light did fill. He rousd himselfe full blyth, and hastned them untill. Then badd the knight his Lady yede aloof. And to an hill herselfe withdraw asyde ; From whence she might behold that battailles proof, And eke be safe from daunger far de- scrj'de. She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde. — Now, O thou sacred Muse! most learned Dame. Fayre ympe of Phoebus and his aged bryde, The Nourse of time and everlasting fame. That warlike handes ennoblest with im- mortall name: O ! gently come into my feeble brest ; Come gently, but not with that mightie rage. Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest. And hartes of great Heroes doest enrage, That nought their kindled corage may aswage : Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd, The God of warre with his fiers equipage Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so sownd ; And scared nations doest with horror Sterne astownd. Fayre Goddesse, lay that furious fitt asyde. Till I of warres and bloody Mars doe sing, And Bryton fieldes with Sarazin blood bedyde, THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. ry Queene and Paynim .r horror heven and earth of labour long, and endlesse prayse : lOw a while lett downe that haughtie string, And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse, That I this man of God his godly ariues may blaze. ^ VIII. By this, the dreadful Beast drew nigh to hand, Halfe flying and halfe footing in his haste, That with his largenesse measured much land. And made wide shadow under his huge waste, As mountaine doth the valley overcaste. "^pproching nigh, he reared high afore His body monstrous, horrible, and vaste ; Which, to increase his wondrous greatnes more, Was swoln with wrath and poyson, and with bloody gore ; rx. And over all with braseu scales was armd. Like plated cote of Steele, so couched neare That nought mote perce; ne might his corse bee harmd With dint of swerd, nor push of pointed speare : Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare, His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely (light ; So shaked he, that horror was to heare: For as the clashing of an Armor bright. Such noyse his rouzed scales did send unto the knight. X. His flaggy winges, when forth he did display. Were like two sayles, in which the hollow wynd Is gathered full, and worketh speedy way: And eke the pennes, that did his pineons bynd, Were like mayne-yardes with flying can- vas lynd ; With which whenas him list the ayre to beat. And there by force unwonted passage fynd. The cloudes before him fledd for terror great, And all the hevens stood still amazed I with his threat. His huge long tayle, wownd up in hundred foldes, Does overspred his long bras-scaly back. Whose wreathed boughtes when ever he unfoldes. And thick entangled knots adown does slack, Bespotted as with shieldes of red and blacke, It sweepeth all the land behind him farre. And of three furlongs does but litle lacke ; And at the point two stinges in fixed arre. Both deadly sharp, that sharpest Steele exceeden farre. But stinges and sharpest Steele did far exceed The sharpnesse of his cruel rending clawes : Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed. What ever thing does touch his ravenous pawes, Or what within his reach he ever drawes. But his most hideous head my tongue to tell Does tremble; for his deepe devouring jawes Wyde gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell. Through which into his darke abysse all I ravin fell. XIII. And, that more wondrous was, in either jaw Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were. In which yett trickling blood, and gob- bets raw. Of late devoured bodies did appeare. That sight therof bredd cold congealed f eare ; Which to increase, and all atonce to kill, A cloud of smoothering smoke, and sul- phure seare. Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed still. That all the ayre about with smoke and stench did fill. His blazing eyes, like two bright shin- ing shieldes, CANTO XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 89 Did burne with wrath, and sparkled living f yre : As two broad Beacons, sett in open fieldes, Send forth their flames far off to every shy re, And warning give that enimies conspyre With fire and sword the region to invade : So flam'd his eyne with rage and raucor- ons yre ; Bnt far within, as in a hollow glade, Those glaring lanipes were sett that made a dreadfull shade. So dreadfully he towardes him did pas, Forelifting up a-loft his speckled brest, And oftenbounding on the brused gras. As for great joyance of his uewcome guest. Eftsooues he gan advance his haughty crest, As chauffed Bore his bristles doth up- reare ; And shoke his scales to battaile ready drest. That made the Redcrosse knight nigh quake for feare, As bidding bold defyaunce to his foeman neare. The knight gan fayrely couch his steady speare. And fiersely ran at him with rigorous might : The pointed Steele, arriving rudely theare. His harder hyde would nether perce nor bight. But, glauncing by, foorth passed forward right. Yet sore amoved with so puissaunt push, Tlie wrathfull beast about him turned light, And him so rudely, passing by, did brush With his long tayle, that horse and man to ground did rush. XVII. Both horse and man up lightly rose againe, And fresh encounter towardes him ad- drest ; But th' ydle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine. And found no place his deadly point to rest. Exceeding rage enflam'd the furious Beast, To be avenged of so great despight ; For never felt his imperceable brest So wondrous force from hand of living wight ; Yet had he prov'd the powre of many a puissant knight. Then, with his waving wings displayed wyde, Himselfe up high he lifted from the ground. And with strong flight did forcibly divyde The yielding ayre, which nigh too feeble found Her flitting parts, and element unsound. To beare so great a weight : he, cutting way With his broad sayles, about him soared round ; At last, low stouping with unweldysway, Suatcht up both horse and man, to beare them quite away. Long he them bore above the subject plaine. So far as Ewghen bow a shaft may send. Till struggling strong did him at last con- straiue To let them do^vne before his flightes end : As hagard hauke, presuming to contend With hardy fowle above hishable might. His wearie pounces all in value doth spend To trusse the pray too heavy for his Hight ; Which, comming down to ground, does free it selfe by fight. He so disseized of his gryping grosse. The knight his thrillant speare againe assayd In his bras-plated body to embosse, And three mens strength unto the stroake he layd ; Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked as affrayd. And glauncing from his scaly necke did glyde Close under his left wing, then broad dis- playd: The percing Steele there wrought a wound full wyde, That with the uncouth smart the IMonster lowdly cryde. He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore 90 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Wheu wintry storme his wrathful wreck does threat ; The rolling billowes beate the ragged shore, As they the earth would shoulder from her seat ; And greedy gulfe does gape, as he would eat His neighbour element in his revenge : Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat To move the world from off his stedfast henge, And boystrous battaile make, each other to avenge. XXII. The steely head stuck fast still in his flesh, Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood. And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh A gushing river of blacke gory blood. That drowned all the land whereon he stood ; The streame -thereof would drive a water- mill: Trebly augmented was his furious mood With bitter sence of his deepe I'ooted ill, That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethril. XXIII. His hideous tayle then hurled he about. And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout Striving to loose the knott that fast him tyes, Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash iraplyes. That to the ground he is perforce con- straynd To throw his ryder; who can quickly ryse From off the earth, with durty blood dis- taynd, For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd ; XXIV. And fercely tooke his trenchand blade in hand, With which he stroke so furious and so fell. That nothing seemd the puissaunce could withstand : Upon his crest the hardned yron fell. But his more hardned crest was armd so well, That deeper dint therein it would not make ; Yet so extremely did the buffe him quell. That from thenceforth he shund the like to take, But wheu he saw them come he did them still forsake. The knight was wroth to see his stroke beguyld, And smot againe with more outrageous might ; But backe againe the sparcling Steele re- coy Id, And left not any marke where it did light, As if in Adamant rocke it had beene pight. The beast, impatient of his smarting wound And of so fierce and forcible despight, Thought with his winges to stye above the ground ; But his late wounded wing unserviceable found. XXVI. Then full of griefe and anguish vehe- ment. He lowdly brayd, that like was never heard ; And from his wide devouring oven sent A flake of fire, that flashing in his beard Him all amazd, and almost made afeard: The scorching flame sore swinged all his face, And through his armour all his body seard , That he could not endure so cruell cace, But thought his armes to leave, and hel- met to unlace. XXVII. Not that great Champion of the antique world. Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt. And hath for twelve huge labours high extold, So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt, When him the poysoned garment did en- chaunt, When Centaures blood and bloody verses charmd ; As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt. Whom fyrie Steele now burnt, that erst him armd ; That erst him goodly armd, now most of all him harmd. CANTO XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 91 XXVIII. Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent, With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, That never man such mischiefes did tor- ment: Death better were ; death did he oft de- sire, But death will never come when needes require. Whom so dismayd when that his foe be- held. He cast to suffer him no more respire. But gan his st^urdy sterne about to weld, And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld. XXIX, It fortuned, (as fayre it then befell) Behynd his backe, unweeting, where he > stood. Of auncient time there was a springing well, From which fast trickled forth a silver flood, Full of great vertues, and for med'ciue good : Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got That happy land, and all with innocent blood Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot The well of life, ne yet his vertues had forgot : XXX. For unto life the dead it could restore, And guilt of sin full crimes cleane wash away; Those that with sickuesse were infected sore It could recure ; and aged long decay Renew, as one were borne that very day. Both Silo this, and Jordan, did excell, And th' English Bath, and eke the German Span ; Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus, match this well: Into the same the knight back over- throwen fell. XXXI. Now gan the golden Phoebus for to ftleepe His fierie face in billowes of the west. And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe. Whiles from their journall labours they did rest ; "VVTien that infernall Monster, having kest His weari3 foe into that living well, Gan high advaunce his broad discoloured brest Above his wonted pitch, with countenance fell. And clapt his yron wings as victor he did dwell. XXXII. Which when his pensive Lady saw from farre. Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay, As weening that the sad end of the warre ; And gan to highest God entirely pray That feared chaunce from her to turne away : With folded hands, and knees full lowly bent. All night shee watcht, ne once adowne would lay Her dainty limbs in her sad dreriment. But praying still did wake, and waking did lament. The morrow next gan earely to appears, That Xitan, rose to runne his daily race; But earely, ere the morrow next gan rears Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face. Up rose the gentle virgin from her place, And looked all about, if she might spy Her loved knight to move his manly pace ; For she had great doubt of his safety, Since late she saw him fall before his enimy. -^ xxxiv. At last she saw where he upstarted brave Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay: As Eagle, fresh out of the ocean wave. Where he hath lefte his plumes all hory gray. And deckt himselfe with fethers youthly gay, Like Eyas hauke up mounts unto the skies. His newly-budded pineons to assay. And marveiles at himselfe stil as he flies : So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise. XXXV. Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy, ' No wonder if he wondred at the sight. And doubted whether his late enimy It were, or other new supplied knight. He now, to prove his late-renewed might, High brandishing his bright deaw-burn- ing blade. Upon his crested scalp so sore did smite, 92 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. That to the scull a yawning wound it made: The deadly dint his dulled sences all dis- maid. I wote not whether the revenging Steele Were hardned with that holy water dew Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele, Or his baptized hands now greater grew, Or other secret vertue did ensew ; Els never could the force of fleshly arme, Ne molten mettall, in his blood embrew ; For till that stownd could never wight him harnie By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme. XXXVII. The cruell wound enraged him so sore, That loud he yelled for exceeding paine ; As hundred ramping Lions seemd to rore. Whom ravenous hunger did thereto con- straine : Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine. And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore. That to his force to yielden it was faine ; Ne ought his sturdy strokes might stand afore, That high trees overthrew, and rocks in peeces tore. XXXVIII. The same advauncing high above his head. With sharpe intended sting so rude him smott. That to the earth him drove, as stricken dead ; Ne living wight would have him life be- hott : The mortall sting his angiy needle shott Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd, Where fast it stucke, ne would thereout be gott : The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd, Ne might his rancling paine with patience be appeasd. XXXIX. But yet, more mindfull of his honour deare Then of the grievous smart which him did wring, From loathed soile he can him liglitly reare, And strove to loose the far infixed sting: Which when in vaine he tryde with strug- geling, Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he hefte, And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string Of his huge taile he quite a sonder clefte ; Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the stump him lefte. Hart cannot thinke what outrage and what cries, With fowle enfouldred smoake and flash- ing fire. The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the skies, That all was covered with darknesse dire : Then, fraught with rancour and engorged He cast at once him'to avenge for all; And, gathering up himselfe out of the mire AVith his uneven wings, did fiercely fall Upon his sunne-bright shield, and grypt it fast withall. Much was the man encombred with his hold. In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, Ne w ist yett how his talaunts to unfold ; Nor ha rder was from Cerberus greedy jaw To pliicke. a bone, then from his cruell claw To reave, l.y strength the griped gage away : Thrise he assayd it from his foote to draw, And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay ; It I.fOoted rought to thinke to robbe him of his pray. XLII. Thtf vhen he saw no pov) er might pre- va'V\, His trust;^ sword he cald to his la^t aid, AMierewith he fiersly did his- foe assaile, And double blewcs about him stoutly laid, That glauncing fire out of the yronVbiid, As sparkles from the Andvile use to lly, When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid : Therewith at last he forst him to unty One of liis grasping feete, him to defend thereby. XLIII. The other foote, fast fixed on his shield, CANTO XI.-] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 93 Whenas no strength nor stroks mote him coustraine To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield, He smott thereat with all his might and maine. That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine : Upon the joint the lucky Steele did light, And made such way that hewd it quite in twaine ; The paw yett missed not his minisht might, But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight. XLIV. For griefe thereof and divelish despight, From his infernall fouruace forth he threw Huge flames that dimmed all the hevens light, Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew : As burning Aetna from his boyling stew Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke, Enwrapt in coleblacke clowds and filthy smoke, That al the laud with stench and heven with horror choke. XLV. The heate whereof, and harmefull pesti- lence, 80 sore him noyd, that forst him to re- tire A little backeward for his best defence. To save his body from the scorching fire, Which he from hellish entrailes did ex- pire. It chaunst, (eternall God that chaunce did guide) As he recoiled backeward, in the mire His nigh foreweried feeble feet did slide. And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. XLVI, There grew a goodly tree him faire be- side. liOaden with fruit and apples rosy redd. As they in pure vermilion had been dide, Whereof great vertues over-all were redd ; For happy life to all which thereon fedd, And life eke everlasting did befall : Great God it planted hi that blessed stedd With his Almighty hand, and did it call The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall. In all the world like was not to be fownd , Save in that soile, where all good things did grow, And freely sprong out of the fruitfull grownd. As incorrupted Nature did them sow, Till that dredd Dragon all did overthrow. Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did know Both good and ill. O mournfuU mernory ! That tree through one mans fault hath doen us all to dy. XLVIII. From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, A trickling streame of Balme, most sov- eraine And dainty deare, which on the ground still fell, And overflowed all the fertile plaine. As it had deawed bene with timely raine : Life and long health that gracious oint- ment gave. And deadly wounds could heale, and reare againe The sencelesse corse appointed for the grave : Into that same he fell, which did from death him save. For nigh thereto the ever damned Beast Durst not approch, for he was deadly made. And al that life preserved did detest ; Yet he it oft adventur'd to invade. By this thedrouping day-light gan to fade, And yield his rowme to sad succeeding night. Who with her sable mantle gan to shade The face of earth and wayes of living wight, And high her burning torch set up in heaven bright. When gentle Una saw the second fall Of her deare knight, who, wea^y of long fight And faint through losse of blood, moov'd not at all. But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might Did heale his woundes, and scorching heat alay ; 94 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Againe she stricken was with sore affright, And for his safetie gan devoutly pray, And watch the noyous night, and wait for joyous day. The joyous day gan early to appeare; And fayre Aurora from the deawy bed Of aged Tithoue gan herselfe to reare With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing red : Her golden locks for hast were loosely shed About her eares, when Una her did marke Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred. From heven high to chace the chearelesse darke ; With mery note her lowd salutes the mounting larke. Then freshly up arose the doughty knight. All healed of his hurts and woundes wide, And did himselfe to battaile ready dight ; Whose early foe awaiting him beside To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde. When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare, As if late fight had nought him damnifyde. He woxe dismaid, and gan his fate to f eare : Nathlesse with wonted rage he him ad- vaunced neare. And in his first encounter, gaping wyde, He thought attonce him to have swallowd quight, And rusht upon him with outragious pryde ; Who him rencountring fierce, as hauke in flight, Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright. Taking advantage of his open jaw. Ran through his mouth with so importune might, That deepe emperst his darksom hollow maw. And, back retyrd, his life blood forth with all did draw. LIV. So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath. That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift; So downe he fell, that th' earth him under- neath Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift ; So downe he fell, as an huge rocky clift, Whose false foundacion waves have washt away, With dreadfull poyse is from the mayne- land rift, And rolling downe great Neptune doth dismay : So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay. LV, The knight him selfe even trembled at his fall, So huge and horrible a masse it seemd ; And his deare Lady, that beheld it all, Durst not approch for dread which she raisdeemd ; But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend She saw not stirre, off-shaking value affright She nigher drew, and saw that joyous end: Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight, That had atchievde so great a conquest by his might. CANTO xn. Fayre Una to the Eedcrosse Knight Betrouthed is with J03' : Though false Diiessa, it to barre, Her false sleightes doe imploy. Behold! I see the haven nigh at hand To which I meane my wearie course to bend ; Vere the maine shete, and beare up with the land, The which afore is fayrly to be kend, And seemeth safe from storms that may offend ; There this fayre virgin wearie of her way Must landed bee, now at her journeyes end; CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 95 There eke my feeble barke a while may stay, Till mery wynd and weather call her thence away. Scarsely had Phoebus in the glooming East Yett harnessed his fyrie-footed teeme, Ne reard above the earth his flaming creast, When the last deadly smoke aloft did steerae, That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme Unto the watchman on the castle-wall ; Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme, And to his Lord and Lady lowd gan call, To tell how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall. Uprose with hasty joy, and feeble speed, That aged Syre, the Lord of all that land, And looked forth, to weet if trew indeed Those tydinges were, as he did under- stand : Which whenas trew by tryall he out fond. He badd to open wyde his brasen gate. Which long time had beene shut, and out of bond Proclaymed joy and peace through all his state ; For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late. Then gan triumphant Trompets sownd on hye, That ^ent to heven the ecchoed report Of their new joy, and happie victory Gainst him, that had them long opprest with tort, And fast imprisoned in sieged fort. Then all the people, as in solemne feast, To him assembled with one full consort, Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast. From whose eternall bondage now they were releast. Forth came that auncient Lord, and aged Queene, Arayd in antique robes downe to the growaid, And sad habiliments right well beseene : A noble crew about them waited rownd Of sage and sober peres, all gravely gownd ; Whom far before did march a goodly band Of tall young men, all liable amies to sownd ; But now they laurell braunches bore in hand. Glad signe of victory and peace in all their land. Unto that doughtie Conquerour they came, And him before themselves prostrating low, Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame, x\nd at his feet their lawrell boughes did throw. Soone after them, all dauncing on a row. The comely virgins came, with girlands dight, As fresh as flowres in medow greene doe grow When morning deaw upon their leaves doth light ; And in their handes sweet Timbrels all upheld on hight. And them before the fry of children yong Their wanton sportes and childish mirth did play. And to the Maydens sowoiding tymbrels song In well attuned notes a joyous lay. And made delightfull musick all the way. Until 1 they came where that faire virgin stood : As fayre Diana in fresh sommers day Beholdes her nymphes enraung'd in shady wood. Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood. So she beheld those maydens meriment With chearefuU vew; who, when to her they came, Themselves to ground with gracious huniblesse bent, And her ador'd by honorable name, Lifting to heven her everlasting fame : Then on her head they sett a girlond greene. And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game : 96 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. Who, in her self-resemblance well be- seene, Did seeme, such as she was, a goodly maiden Queene. And after all the raskall many ran, Heaped together in rude rablement, To see the face of that victorious man, Whom all admired as from heaven sent, And gazd upon with gaping wonderment ; But when they came where that dead Dragon lay, Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent, The sight with ydle feare did them dis- may, Ne durst approch him nigh to touch, or once assay. X. Some feard, and fiedd ; some feard, and well it faynd ; One, that would wiser seeme then all the rest, Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps remaynd Some lingring life within his hollow brest, Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden nest Of many Dragonettes, his fruitful! seede: Another saide, that in his eyes did rest Yet sparckling fyre, and badd thereof take heed ; Another said, he saw him move his eyes indeed. XI. One mother, wlienas her foolehardy chyld Did come too neare, and with his talants play, Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe revyld. And to her gossibs gan in counsell say ; ' How can I tell, but that his talants may Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand ? ' So diversly them selves in vaine they fray; Whiles some more bold to measure him nigh stand, To prove how many acres he did spred of laud. XII. Thus flocked all the folke him rownd abont; The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine. Being arrived where that champion stout After his foes defeasaunce did remahie, Him goodly greetes, and fayre does en- tertayne With princely gifts of yvory and gold. And thousand thankes him yeeldes for all . his paine. Then when his daughter deare he does behold. Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold. XIII. And after to his Pallace he them bringes. With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet ; And all the way the joyous people singes, And with their garments strowes the paved street; Whence mounting up, they fynd purvey- aunce meet Of all, that royall Princes court became ; And all the tloore was underneath their feet Bespredd with costly scarlott of great name. On which they lowly sitt, and fitting pur- pose frame. XIV. What needes me tell their feast and goodly guize. In which was nothing riotous nor vaine ? What needes of dainty dishes to devize. Of comely services, or courtly trayne? My narrow leaves cannot in them con- tayne The large discourse of roiall Princes state. Yet was their manner then but bare and playne ; For th' antique world excesse and pryde did hate: Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen up but late. XV. Then, when with meates and drinkes of every kinde Their fervent appetites they quenched had. That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde. Of straunge adventures, and of perils sad Which in his travell him befallen had, For to demaund of his renowmed guest: Who then with utt' ranee grave, and count 'nance sad, From poynt to poynt, as is before ex- prest, Discourst his voyage long, according his request. TilE FAERIL QUEENE. 97 vireat piosuure, rnixc vnth pittiful r*? gard, That godly King and Queene did pas- sionate, Whyles they his pittifull adventures heard ; That oft they did lament his lucklesse state, And often blame the too importune fate That heapd on him so many wrathfull wreakes ; For never gentle knight, as he of late, So tossed was in fortunes cruell f reakes : And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks. Then sayd that royall Pere in sober wise ; * Deare Sonne, great beene the evils which ye bore From first to last in your late enterprise, That I note whether praise or pitty more; For never living man, I weene, so sore In sea of deadly daungers was distrest: But since now safe ye seised have the shore. And well arrived are, (high God be blest!) Let us devize of ease and everlasting rest.' * Ah dearest Lord ! ' said then that doughty knight, ' Of ease or rest I may not yet devize ; For by the faith which I to armes have plight, I bownden am straight after this emprize, As that your daughter can ye well advize, Backe to retourne to that great Faery Queene, And her to serve sixe yeares in warlike wize. Gainst that proud Paynim king that works her teene : Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I there have beene.' ' Unhappy falls that hard necessity,' (Quoth he) ' the troubler of my happy peace, And vowed foe of my felicity ; Ne I against the same can justly preace : But since that band ye cannot now re- lease, Nor doen undo, (for vowes may not be vayne) Scone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease, ie then shall hither backe retourne agayne. The marriage to accomplish vowd be- twixt you twayn. XX. ' Which, for my part, I covet to per- forrae In sort as through the world I did pro- clame. That who-so kild that monster most deform e. And him in hardy battayle overcame, Should have mine onely daughter to his Dame, And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt bee: Therefore, since now to thee perteynes the same By dew desert of noble chevalree, Both daughter and eke kingdome lo! I yield to thee.' 'Then forth he called that his daughter fay re. The fairest Un', his onely daughter deare, His onely daughter and his only hayre ; Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare. As bright as doth the morning starre appeare Out of the East, with flaming lockes bedight, To tell that dawning day is drawing neare. And to the world does bring long-vished light: So faire and fresh that Lady shewd L'^r- selfe in sight. So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; For she had layd her mournefull stole aside, And widow-like sad wimple throwne away. Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide, Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride ; And on her now a garment she did weare All lily white, withoutten spot or pride, That seemd like silke and silver woven neare ; But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare. 98 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [noK I. XXIII. The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, And glorious light of her sunshyny face, To tell were as to strive against the streame : My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace Her heavenly lineaments for to enehace. Ne wonder; for her o^^Ti deare loved knight, All were she daily with himselfe in place. Did wonder much at her celestial sight : Oft had he seene her faire, but never so faire dight, XXIV. So fairely dight when she in presence came, She to her Syre made humble reverence, And bowed low, that her right well be- came, And added grace unto her excellence : Who with great wisedome and grave elo- quence Thus gan to say — But, eare he thus had sayd, With flying speede, and seeming great pretence, Came running in, much like a man dis- may d, A Messenger with letters, which his message sayd. XXV. All in the open hall amazed stood At suddeinnesse of that unwary sight. And wondred at his breathlesse hasty , mood : But he for nought would stay his passage right, Tin fast before the king he did alight ; Where falling flat great humblesse he did make, And kist the ground whereon his foot was pight ; Then to his handes that writt he did betake, Which he diclosing read thus, as the paper * To thee, most mighty king of Eden fay re. Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest The wofull daughter and forsaken heyre Of tha: great T:rapprour of all the West; And 'ids thee be advized for tliebest, Er-.' th T t'lj davghter iinck, • '••'v band Of wedlocke, to that new unkno\'en guest : For he already plighted his right hand Unto another love, and to another land. XXVII. * To me, sad mayd, or rather widow sad. He was affyaunced long time before, And sacred pledges he both gave, and had. False erraunt knight, infamous, and for- swore ! Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore, And guilty heavens of his bold perjury; Which though he hath polluted oft of yore, Yet I to them for judgement just doe fly And them conjure t' avenge this shame- full injury. xxvin. ' Therefore, since mine he is, or free or bond. Or false or trew, or living or else dead, Withhold, O soverayne Prince! your hasty bond From knitting league with him, I you aread ; Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread. Through weaknesse of my widowhed or woe; For truth is strong her rightfull cause to plead , And shall finde friends, if need requireth soe. So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend nor foe, Fidessa.' When he these bitter byting wordes had red, The tydings straunge did him abashed make, That still he sate long time astonished, As in great muse, ne word to creature spake. At last his solemn silence thus he brake, With doubtfuU eyes fast fixed on his guest : ' Redoubted knight, that for myne only sake Thy life and honor late adventurest, Let nought be hid from me that ought to be exprest. XXX. ^^ ''Mt moane t"';- — ■■'■ \f> threat and CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 99 Throwue out from womanish impatient mynd ? What hevens? what altars? what en- raged heates, Here heaped up with termes of love un- kyud, My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bynd ? High God be witnesse that I guiltlesse ame; But if yourselfe, Sir knight, ye faulty fynd, Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame, With cryme doe not it cover, but disclose the same.' XXXI. To whom the Kedcrosse knight this answere sent: *My Lord, my king, be nought hereat dismayd, Till well ye wote by grave intendiment. What woman, and wherefore, doth me up- brayd With breach of love and loialty betrayd. It was in my mishaps, as hitherward I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd Out of my way, through perils straunge and hard. That day should faile me ere I had them all declard. * There did I find, or rather I was fownd Of this false woman that Fidessa higlit, Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on grownd, Most false Duessa, royall richly dight, That easy was t' inveigle weaker sight : Who by her wicked arts and wylie skill, Too false and strong for earthly skill or might, Unwares me wrought unto her wicked will. And to my foe betrayd when least I feared ill. XXXIII. Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, And on the ground herselfe prostrating low. With sober countenance thus to him sayd : *0! pardon me, my soveraine Lord, to sheow The secret treasons, which of late I know To have bene wrought by that false sor- ceresse : Shee, onely she, it is, that earst did throw This gentle knight into so great distresse, That death him did awaite in daily wretchednesse. XXXIV. ' And now it seemes, that she suborned hath This crafty messenger with letters vaine, To worke new woe and improvided scath, By breaking of the band betwixt us twaine ; Wherein she used hath the practicke paine Of this false footman, clokt with simple- uesse, Whome if ye please for to discover i)laiue, Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse. The falsest man alive : who tries, shall find no lesse.' The king was greatly moved at her speach ; And, all with suddein indignation fraight. Bad on that Messenger rude hands to reach. Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did wait, Attacht that faytor false, and bound him strait : Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band, As chained beare whom cruell dogs doe bait, With ydle force did faine them to with- stand, And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand. But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, And bound him hand and foote with yron chains ; And with continual watch did warely keepe. Who then would thinke that -y bis subtile trains He could escape fowle dea'ii or deadly pains ? Thus, when that Princes wrMh wai paci- fide, He gan renew the late forbid-len bains, And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde With sacred rites and vowes for ever t abyde. XXXVII. His owne two hands the holy kuotts did knitt, That none but death for ev.ei- m. divide; His owne two hands, for svch a turne most fitt, The housling fire did kindle and provide, fL.of lOO THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book I. And holy water thereon sprinckled wide ; At which the bushy Teade a groome did light, And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide, Where it should not be quenched day nor night, For feare of evil fates, but burnen ever bright. XXXVIII. Then gan they spriuckle all the posts with wine. And made great feast to solemnize that day: They all perfumde with frankincense divine. And precious odours fetcht from far away, That all the house did sweat with great aray ; And all the while sweete Musicke did apply Her curious skill the warbling notes to To drive away the dull Melancholy^ The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity. XXXIX. During the which there was an heavenly noise Heard sownd through all the Pallace pleasantly, Like as it had bene many an Angels voice Singing before th' eternall majesty, In their trinall triplicities on hye ; Yett wist no creature whence that hevenly sweet Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly Himselfe thereby ref te of his sences meet, And ravished with rare impression in his sprite. XL. Great joy was made that day of young and old , And solemne feast proclaymd throughout the land. That their exceeding merth may not be told: Suffice it heare by signes to understand The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band. Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold. Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand ; And ever, when his eie did her behold, His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. XLI. Her joyous presence, and sweet com- pany. In full content he there did long enjoy ; Ne wicked envy, ne vile gealosy. His deai-e delights were hable to annoy : Yet, swimming in that sea of blissfull joy, He nought forgott how he whilome had sworne, In case he could that monstrous beast de- stroy, Unto his Faery Queene backe to retourne ; The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne. Now, strike your sailes, yee jolly Mar- iners, For we be come unto a quiet rode, Where we must land some of our passen- gers. And light this weary vessell of her lode : Here she a while may make her safe abode, Till she repaired have her tackles spent. And wants supplide; And then againe abroad On the long voiage whereto she is bent: Well may she speede, and fairely finish her intent! \ THE SECOND BOOK OF THE FAERIE QUEENE CONTATNING THE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON, OR OF TEMPERAUNCE. Right well I wote, most mighty Sov- eraine, That all this famous antique history Of some th' abouudance of an ydle braine Will judged be, and painted forgery, Eather then matter of just memory ; Sith none that breatheth living aire does know Where is that happy land of Faery, Wliieh I so much doe vaunt, yet no where show, But vouch antiquities, which no body can know. II. But let that man with better sence advize, That of the world least part to us is red; And daily how through hardy enterprize Many great Regions are discovered. Which to late age were never mentioned. Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru ? Or who in venturous vessell measured The Amazon huge river, now found trew ? Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever vew? Yet all these were, when no man did them know. Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene ; And later times thinges more unknowne shall show. Why then should witlesse man so much misweene, That nothing is but that which he hath seene? What if within the Moones fayre shining spheare, What if in every other starre unseene Of other worldes he happily should heare, He wonder would much more; yet such to some appeare. Of faery lond yet if he more inquyre. By certein signes, here sett in sondrie place, He may it fynd ; ne let him then admyre. But yield his sence to bee too blunt and bace, Tliat no'te without an hound fine footing trace. And thou, O fayrest Princesse under sky! In this fayre mirrhour maist behold thy face. And thine ovme realmes in lond of Faery, And in tliis antique ymage thy great auncestry. The which O! pardon me thus to en- fold In covert vele, and wrap in shadowes light, That feeble eyes your glory may behold, Wniich ells could not endure those beames bright, But would bee dazled with exceeding light. O! pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare The brave adventures of this faery knight. The good Sir Guyon, gratiously to heare ; I In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly I doth appeare. oi I02 THE FAERIE QUEENE. JjOOjC II. CANTO I. Guyon, by Archimag-e abusd, The Redcrosse knight awaytes ; Fyndes Mordant and Auiavia slaine With pleasures poisoned baytes. That couDing Architect of cancred guyle, Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands, For falsed letters, and suborned wyle, Sooue as the Redcrosse knight he under- stands To beene departed out of Eden landes, To serve againe his so veraine Elfin Queene, His artes he moves, and out of caytives handes Himselfe he frees by secret meanes un- seene ; His shackles emptie lefte, himselfe es- caped cleene. And forth he fares, full of malicious raynd. To worken mischief e, and avenging woe, Where ever he that godly knight may fynd, His onely hart-sore, and his onely-foe; Sith Una now he algates must forgoe. Whom his victorious handes did earst restore To native crowne and kingdom late ygoe ; Where she enjoyes sure peace for ever- more. As wetherbeaten ship arryv'd on happie shore. III. Him therefore now the object of his spight And deadly food he makes : him to offend, By forged treason or by open fight, He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed end : Thereto his subtile engins he does bend, His practick witt and his fayre fyled tonge. With thousand other sleightes ; for well he kend His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong : For hardly could bee hurt who was already stong. IV. Still as he went he craftie stales did lay. With cunning traynes him to entrap un wares. And privy spyals plast in all his way, To weete what course he takes, and hoAV he fares. To ketch him at a vauntage in his ynares. But now so wise and wary was the knight By tryall of his former harmes and cai*es, That he descryde and shonned still his slight : The fish that once was caught new bait wil hardly byte. Nath'lesse th' Enchaunter would not spare his payne, In hope to win occasion to his will ; Which when he long awaited had in vayne. He chaungd his mynd from one to other ill; For to all good he enimy was still. Upon the way him fortuned to meete, Fayre marching underneath a shady hill, A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse meete. That from his head no place appeared to his feete. His carriage was full comely and up- right ; His countenance demure and temperate ; But yett so sterne and terrible in sight. That cheard his friendes, and did his foes amate : He was an Elfin borne of noble state And raickle worship in his native land ; Well could he tourney, and in lists debate, And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huous hand. When with king Oberon he came to Faery land. VII. Him als accompanyd upon the way A comely Palmer, clad in black attyre. Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie gray, That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire, CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 103 Least his long way his aged limbes should tire : And, if by lookes one may the mind aread, He seemd to be a sage and sober syre ; And ever with slow pace the knight did lead, Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread. Such whenas Archimago them did view, He weened well to worke some uncouth wyle : Eftsoones untwisting his deceiptf ull clew. He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle, And, with faire countenance and tlat- tring style To them approching, thus the knight bespake ; ' Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with warlike spoyle. And great atchiev'ments, great your selfe to make, Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.' He stayd his steed for humble misers sake, And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt : Who feigning then in every limb to quake Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faynt, With piteous moue his percing speach gan paynt : * Deare Lady ! how shall I declare thy cace. Whom late I left in languorous con- straynt ? Would God ! thy selfe now present were in place To tell this ruef ull tale : thy sight could win thee grace. 'Or rather would, O! would it so had chaunst, That you, most noble Sir, had present beene When that lewd rybauld, with vyle lust advaunst, Laid first his filthie hands on virgin cleene, To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and sheene As on the earth, great mother of us all, With living eye more fayre was never seene Of chastity and honour virginall : Witnes, ye heavens, whom she in vaine to help did call.' ' How may it be,' sayd then the kpight halfe wroth, ' That knight should knighthood ever so have sheut? ' 'None but that saw,' (quoth he) 'would weene for troth, How shamefully that Mayd he did tor- ment: Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent. And drew her on the ground ; and his sharpe sword Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent. And threatned death with many a bloodie word : Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to see abhord.' XII. Therewith amoved from his sober mood, ' And lives he yet,' (said he) 'that wrought this act ? And doen the heavens afford him vitall food ? ' 'He lives,' (quoth he) 'and boasteth of the fact, Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.' 'Where may that treachour then,' (sayd he) ' be found. Or by what meanes may I his footing tract ? ' ' That shall I shew,' (sayd he) ' as sure as hound The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.' He stayd not lenger talke, but with fierce yre And zealous haste away is quickly gone To seeke that knight, where him that crafty Squyre Supposd to be. They do arrive anone Where sate a gentle Lady all alone, With garments rent, and heare dis- cheveled. Wringing her handes, and making piteous mone : Her swollen eyes were much disfigured. And her faire face with teares was fowly blubbered. The knight, approching nigh, thus to her said; 104 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. ' Fayre Lady, through fowle sorrow ill bedight, Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd, And marre the blossom of your beauty bright : For-thy appease your griefe and heavy plight, And tell the cause of your conceived payne ; For, if he live that hath you doen de- spight, He shall you doe dew recompence agayne, Or els his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.' XV. Which when she heard, as in despight- full wise She wilfully her sorrow did augment. And offred hope of comfort did despise : Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent, And scratcht her face with ghastly dreri- ment; Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be scene, But hid her visage, and her head downe bent, Either for grievous shame, or for great teene, As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene : XVI. Till her that Squyre bespake : ' Madame, my liefe, For Gods deare love be not so wilfull bent. But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe, The which good fortune doth to you present. For what bootes it to weepe and to way- ment When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase, And the weake minde with double M'oe torment? ' When she her Squyre heard speake, she gan appease Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease. XVII. Ef tsoone she said ; ' Ah ! gentle trustie Squyre, What comfort can I, wofuU wretch, con- ceave ? Or why should ever I henceforth desyre To see faire heavens face, and life not leave, Sith that false Traytour did my honour reave ? ' 'False traytour certes,' (saide the Faerie knight) ' I read the man, that ever would deceave A gentle Lady, or her wrong through might : Death were too little paine for such a fowle despight. ' But now, fayre Lady, comfort to you make, And read who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight, That short revenge the man may over- take, Where-so he be, and soone upon him light.' ' Certes,' (saide she) 'I wote not how he hight, But under him a gray steede he did wield, Whose sides with dapled circles wereu dight : Upright he rode, and in his silver shield He bore a bloodie Crosse that quartred all the field.' ' Nowby my head,' (saide Guyon)' much I muse. How that same knight should doe so fowle amis. Or ever gentle Damzell so abuse : For, may I boldly say, he surely is A right good knight, and trew of word ywis : I present was, and can it witnesse well, When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris Th' adventure of the Errant damozell; In which he hath great glory wonue, as I heare tell. * Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde, And f airely quit him of th' imputed blame ; Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde, Or make you good amendment for the same: All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes of shame. Now therefore, Lady, rise out of your paine. And see the salving of your blotted name.' Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine, For she was inly glad her purpose so to gains. XXI. Her purpose was not such as she did faine, Ne yet her person such as it was scene ; But under simple shew, and semblaut plaine, CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 105 Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene, As a chaste Virgin that had wronged beene : So had false Archimago her disguysd, To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene : And eke him self e had craftily devisd To be her Squire, and do her service well aguisd. XXII. Her, late forlorne and naked, he had found Where she did wander in waste wilder- nesse, Lurking in rockes and caves far under ground, And with greene mosse cov'ring her nakednesse To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse, Sith her Prince Arthur of proud orna- ments And borrowd beauty spoyld. Her nathe- lesse Th' enchaunter finding fit for his intents Did thus revest, and deckt with dew habiliments. XXIII. For all he did was to deceive good knights. And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame To slug in slouth and sensuall delights. And end their dales with irrenowmed shame. And now exceeding grief e him overcame, To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced hye; Therefore this craftie engine he did frame. Against his praise to stirre up enmitye Of such, as vertues like mote unto him allye. XXIV. So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth way Through woods and mountaines, till they came at last Into a pleasant dale that lowly lay Betwixt two hils, whose high heads overplast The valley did with coole shade over- cast: Through midst thereof a little river rold By which there sate a knight with helme unlaste, Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold, After his travell long and labours mani- fold. XXV. 'Lo! yonder he,' cryde Archimage alowd, ' That wrought the shamefull fact which I did shew; And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd. To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage dew : But vaine ; for ye shall dearely do him rew, So God ye speed and send you good suc- cesse, Which we far off will here abide to vew.' So they him left intiam'd with wrathful- nesse, That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse. XXVI. Who, seeing him from far so fierce to pricke, His warlike armes about him gan em- brace. And in the rest his ready speare did sticke : Tho, when as still he saw him towards pace. He gan rencounter him in eqnall race. They bene ymett, both ready to affrap, AVhen suddeinly that warriour gan abace His threatned speare, as if some new mis- hap, Had him betide, or hidden danger did entrap ; XXVII. And cryde, 'IVIercie, Sir knight! and mercie. Lord, For mine offence and heedelesse hardi- ment. That had almost committed crime abhord, And with reprochfuU shame mine honour sheut, Whiles cursed Steele against that badge I bent, The sacred badge of my Redeemers death. Which on your shield is set for orna- ment! ' But his fierce foe his steed could stay uneath. Who, prickt with courage keue, did cruell battell breath. XXVIII. But, when he heard him speake, .streight way he knew His errour; and, himselfe inclyuiug, sayd ; io6 THE FAERIE QUEEN E. [book ii. 'All! deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth you, But me behoveth rather to upbrayd, Whose hastie hand so far from reason strayd, That almost it did hayuous violence On that fayre ymage of that heavenly Mayd, That decks and amies your shield with faire defence : Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew offence.' XXIX. So beene they both at one, and doen up- reare Their bevers bright each other for to greet ; Goodly comportaunce each to other beare, And entertaine themselves with court'sies meet. Then said the Redcrosse knight; 'Now mote I weet, Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce, And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet ; For sith I know your goodly governauiice, Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some uncouth chaunce.' ' Certes,' (said he) ' well mote I shame to tell The fond encheason that me hither led. A false infamous faitour late befell Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested, And playnd of grievous outrage, whieii he red A knight had wrought against a Ladle gent ; Which to avenge he to this place me led. Where you he made the marke of his in- tent. And now is fled : foule shame him follow wher he went! ' XXXI. So can he turne his earnest unto game. Through goodly haivlling and wise t*em- peraunce. By this his aged Guide in presence came ; Who, soone as on that knight his eye did glaunce, Eftsoones of him had perfect cogni- zaunce, Sith him in Faery court he late avizd ; And sayd ; ' Fayre sonne, God give you happy chaunce. And that deare Crosse uppon your shield devizd, Wlierewith above all knights ye goodly .seeme aguizd ! XXXII. ' Joy may you have, and everlasting fame. Of late most hard atchiev'ment by you donne, For which enrolled is your glorious name In heavenly Regesters above the Sunne, Where you a Saint with Saints your seat have wonne : But wretched we, where ye have left your marke, Must now anew begin like race to ronne. God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke. And to the wished haven bring thy weary barke ! ' XXXIII. ' Palmer,' him answered the Redcrosse knight, ' His be the praise that this atchiev'ment wrought. Who made my hand the organ of his might : More then goodwill to me attribute nought ; For all I did, I did but as I ought. But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next ensevves. Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought, That home ye may report thrise happy newes; For well ye worthy bene for worth and gentle the Aves.' XXXIV. So courteous conge both did give and take, With right hands plighted, pledges of good will. Then Guyon forward gan his voyage make With his blacke Palmer, that him guided still: Still he him guided over dale and hill. And with his steedy staffe did point his way ; His race with reason, and with words his will, From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did stay, And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps to stray. XXXV. In this faire wize they traveild long yfere, Through many hard assaj'^es which did betide ; CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 107 Of which he honour still away did beare, And spred his glory through all countryes wide. At last, as chaunst them by a forest side To passe, for succour from the scorching ray, They heard a ruefull voice, that dearuly cride With percing shriekes and many a dolef ull lay; Which to attend awhile their forward steps they stay. ' But if that carelesse hevens,' (quoth she) ' despise The doome of just revenge, and take de- light To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries, Asbownd by them to live in lives despight ; Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight. Come, then ; come soone ; come sweetest death, to me. And take away this long lent loathed light: Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweete the medicines be. That long captived soules from weary thraldome free. XXXVII. * But thou, sweete Babe, whom frowning froward fate Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall, Sith heven thee deignes to hold in living state. Long maist thou live, and better thrive withall Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall. Live thou ; and to thy mother dead attest That cleare she dide from blemish crimi- nall : Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest Loe! I for pledges leave. So give me leave to rest.' XXXVIII. With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw That through the wood re-echoed againe ; And after gave a grone so deepe and low That seemd her tender heart was rent in twaine. Or thrild with point of thorough-piercing paiue : As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell Steele Through launched, forth her bleeding life does raine, Whiles the sad pang approching shee does feele, Braies out her latest breath, and up her eies doth seele. XXXIX. Which when that warriour heard, dis- mounting straict From his tall steed, he rusht into the thick. And soone arrived where that sad pour- traict Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quick ; In whose white alabaster brest did stick A cruell knife that made a griesly wownd, From which forth gusht a stream of gore blood thick. That all her goodly garments staind arownd, And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy grownd. XL. Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart, Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay, Which shee increased with her bleeding hart, And the cleane waves with purple gore did ray: Als in her lap a lovely babe did play His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew; For in her streaming blood he did embay His litle hands, and tender joints embrew : Pitifull spectacle, as ever eie did vew ! Besides them both, upon the soiled gras The dead corse of an armed knight was spred, AVhose armour all with blood besprincled was; His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett be- ing ded ; Seemd to have beene a goodly personage, Now in his freshest flowre of lusty-hed, Fitt to inflame faire Lady with loves rage, But that tiers fate did crop the blossome of his age. XLII. Whom when the good Sir Guyon did behold. His hart gan wexe as starke as marble stone. And his fresh blood did frieze with feare- full cold, io8 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. That all his sences seemd beref te attone : At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to grone, As Lion, grudging in his great disdaine, Mournes inwardly, and makes to him selfe mone ; Til ruth and fraile affection did eoustraine His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his inward paine. Out of her gored wound the cruell steel He lightly snatcht, and did the tioodgate stop With his faire garment ; then gan softly feel Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop : Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire To call backe life to her forsaken shop. So well he did her deadly wounds repaire, That at the last shee gan to breath out living aire. XLIV. Which he perceiving greatly gan rejoice, And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweete voice : 'Ay me ! deare Lady, which the ymage art Of rueful! pitty and impatient smart, What direfuU chaunce, armd with aveng- ing fate, Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell part. Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date ? Speake, O dear Lady, speake! help never comes too late.' XLV. Therewith her dim eie-lids she up gan reare. On which the drery death did sitt as sad As lump of lead, and made darke clouds appeare : But when as him, all in bright armour clad, Before her standing she espied had, As one out of a deadly dreame affright. She weakely started, yet she nothing drad : Streight downe againe herself e, in great despight. She groveling threw to ground, as hating life and light. The gentle knight her sooue with care- full paine Uplifted light, and softly did uphold : Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunck againe. Till he his armes about her sides gan fold, And to her said ; ' Yet, if the stony cold Have not all seized on your frozen hart, Let one word fall that may your grief unfold. And tell the secrete of your mortall smart : He oft finds present helpe who does his grief e impart.' Then, casting up a deadly looke, full low Shee sight from bottome of her wounded brest ; And after, many bitter throbs did throw, AVith lips full pale and foltring tong op- prest. These words she breathed forth from riven chest : ' Leave, ah ! leave off, whatever wight thou bee, To lett a weary wretch from her dew rest. And trouble dying soules trauquilitee ; Take not away, now got, which none would give to me.' ' Ah! far be it,' (said he) ' Deare dame, fro mee. To hinder soule from her desired rest. Or hold sad life in long captivitee; For all I seeke is but to have redrest The bitter pangs that doth your heart in- fest. Tell then, O Lady ! tell what fatall priefe Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest ; That I may cast to compas your reliefe. Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your grief e.' * XLIX. With feeble hands then stretched forth on bye. As heven accusing guilty of her death, And with dry drops congealed in her eye, In these sad'wordes she spent her utmost breath : 'Heare then, O man! the sorrowes that uneath My tong can tell, so far all sence they pas. Loe ! this dead corpse, that lies here under- neath. The gentlest knight, that ever on greene gras Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir Mortdant was : CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 109 ' Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now!) My Lord, my love, my deare Lord, my deare love ! So long as hevens just with equall brow Vouchsafed to behold us from above. One day, when him high corage did em- move, As wont ye knightes to seeke adventures wilde. He pricked forth his puissant force to prove. Me then he left enwombed of this childe, This luckles childe, whom thus ye see with blood defild. LI. * Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse) To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne ; Acrasia, a false enchaunteresse, That many errant knightes hath fowle fordoune ; Within a wandring Island, that doth ronne And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is. Fayre Sir, if ever there ye travell, shonne The cursed land where many wend amis, And know it by the name : it hight the Bowre of hlis. ' Her blis is all in pleasure, and delight, "N^Tierewith she makes her lovers dronken mad; And then with words, and weedes, of w^ondrous might. On them she workes her will to uses bad : My liefest Lord she thus beguiled had ; For he was flesh ; (all flesh doth f rayltie breed) Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad, Weake wretch, I wrapt myselfe in Palmers weed , And cast to seek him forth through danger and great dreed. * Now had fayre Cynthia by even tournes Full measured three quarters of her yeare. And thrise three tymes had fild her crooked homes, When as my wombe her burdeiu would forbeare. And bad me call Lucina to me neare. Lucina came ; a manehild forth I brought The woods, the nymphes, my bowres, my midwives, weare : Hard help at need! So deare thee, babe, I bought ; Yet nought too dear I deemd, while so my deare I sought. ' Him so I sought ; and so at last I fownd, Where him that witch had thralled to her will. In chaines of lust and lewde desyres ybo wnd , And so transformed from his former skill. That me he knew not, nether his owTie ill ; Till, through wise handling and faire governaunce, I him recured to a better will, Purged from drugs of fowle iutemper- aunee : Then nieanes I gan devise for his deliver- aunce. ' Wliich when the vile Enchaunteresse perceiv'd. How that my Lord from her I would re- prive, With cup thus charmd him parting she deceivd ; " Sad verse, give death to him that death does give, " And losse of love to her that loves to live, " So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke! " So parted we, and on our journey drive ; Till, coming to this w^ell, he stoupt to drincke : The charme fulfild, dead suddeinly he downe did sincke. ' Which when I, wretch ' — Not one word more she sayd, But breaking off the end for want of breath, And slydiug soft, as downe to sleepe her layd. And ended all her woe in quiet death. That seeing, good Sir Guyon coud uneath From teares abstayue ; for griefe his hart did grate. And from so heavie sight his head did Avreath, Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate, Which plonged had faire Lady in so wretched state. Then turning to his Palmer said; 'Old syre, no THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Behold the ymage of mortalitie, And feeble nature cloth'd with Heshly tyre. When raging passion with fierce tyranny Robs reason of her dew regalitie, And makes it servaunt to her basest part, The strong it weakens with infirmitie, And with bold furie armes the weakest hart : The strong through pleasure soonest falles, the weake through smart.' * But temperaunce ' (said he) ' with golden squire Betwixt them both can measure out a meane ; Nether to melt in pleasures whottdesyre, Nor frye in hartlesse griefe and dolefull tene: Thrise happy man, who fares them both atweene! But sith this wretched woman overcome Of anguish, rather then of crime, hath bene, Reserve her cause to her eternall doome ; And, in the meane, vouchsafe her honor- able toombe.' LIX. ' Palmer,' quoth he, * death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest; But after death the tryall is to come. When best shall bee to them that lived best; But both alike, when death hath both supprest. Religious reverence doth buriall teene ; Which whoso wants, wants so much of his rest : For all so great shame after death I weene, As selfe to dyen bad, unburied bad to beene.' LX. So both agree their bodies to engrave : The great earthes wombe they open to the sky, And with sad Cypresse seemely it em- brave ; Then, covering with a clod their closed eye. They lay therein their corses tenderly, And bid them sleepe in everlasting peace. But, ere they did their utmost obsequy. Sir Guyon, more affection to increace', Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should ay releace. LXI. The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew, With which he cutt a lock of all their heare, Which medling with their blood and earth he threw Into the grave, and gan devoutly sweare ; ' Such and such evil God on Guyon reare, And worse and worse, young Orphane, be thy payne, If I, or thou, dew vengeaunce doe forbeare, Till guiltie blood her guerdon doe ob- tayne ! ' So shedding many teares they closd the earth agayne. CANTO n. Babes bloody handes may not be clensd : The face of golden Meane : Her sisters, two Extremities, Strive her to banish cleane. Thus when Sir Guyon with his faithful guyde Had with dew rites and dolorous lament The end of their sad Tragedie uptyde. The litle babe up in his armes he lient ; Who with sweet pleasaunce, and bold blandishment, Gan smyle on them, that rather ought to weepe, As carelesse of his woe, or innocent Of that was doen ; that ruth emperced deeps In that knightes hart, and wordes with bitter teares did steepe : * Ah ! lucklesse babe, borne under cruel! star re. And in dead parents balefull ashes bred, Full little weenest tliou what sorrowes are Left thee for porcion of thy livelyhed ; Poore Orphane ! in the wild world scat- tered. As budding braunch rent from the native tree, CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. Ill And throwen forth, till it be withered. Such is the state of men : Thus enter we Into this life with woe, and end with miseree ! ' III. Then, soft himselfe inclyning on his knee Downe to that well, did in the water weene (So love does loath disdainefull nieitee) His guiltie handes from bloody gore to cleene. He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they beene For all his washing cleaner. Still he strove ; Yet still the litle hands were bloody seene : The which him into great amaz'ment drove, And into diverse doubt his wavering won- der clove. IV. He wist not whether blott of fowle offence Might not be purgd with water nor with bath; Or that high God, in lieu of innocence. Imprinted had that token of his wrath, To shew how sore bioodguiltinesse he hat'th ; Or that the charme and veneme which they dronck. Their blood with secret filth infected hath. Being diffused through the senceless tronck, That through the great contagion direful deadly stonck. Whom thus at gaze the Palmer gan to bord With goodly reason, and thus fayre be- spake ; ' Ye bene right hard amated, gratious Lord, And of your ignorance great merveill make, Whiles cause not well conceived ye mis- take: But know, that secret vertues are in- fusd In every fountaine, and in everie lake. Which who hath skill them rightly to have chusd. To proofe of passing wonders hath full often usd : 'Of those, some were so from their sourse indewd By great Dame Nature, from whose fruit- full pap Their welheads spring, and are with moisture deawd ; Which feedes each living plant with liquid sap. And filles with flowres fayre Floraes painted lap : But other some, by guifte of later grace. Or by good prayers, or by other hap. Had vertue pourd into their waters bace. And thenceforth were renowmd, and sought from place to place. ' Such is this well, wrought by occasion straunge. Which to her Nymph befell. Upon a day. As she the woodes with bow and shaftes did raunge. The hartlesse Hynd and Robucke to dis- may, Dan Faunus chaunst to meet her by the way, And, kindling fire at her faire-burniug eye, Liflamed was to follow beauties pray, And chaced her that fast from him did fly; As hynd from her, so she fled from her enimy. VIII. * At last, when fayliug breath began to faint, And saw no meanes to scape, of shame affrayd, She set her downe to weepe for sore con- straint ; And to Diana calling lowd for ayde. Her deare besought to let her die a niayd. The goddesse heard ; and suddeine, where she sate Welling out streames of teares, and quite dismayd With stony feare of that rude rustick mate, Transformd her to a stone from stedfast virgins state. IX. 'Lo! now she is that stone; from whose two heads. As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow, Yet colde through feare and old conceived dreads ; 112 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. And yet the stoue her semblauee seemes to show, Shapt like a maide, that such ye may her know : And yet her vertues in her water byde, For it is chaste and pure as purest snow, Ne lets her waves with any filth be dyde ; But ever, like herselfe, unstayned hath beeue tryde. X. * From thence it comes, that this babes bloody hand May not be clensd with water of this well: Ne certes. Sir, strive you it to withstand, But let them still be bloody, as befell, That they his mothers innocence may tell. As she bequeathd in her last testament ; That, as a sacred Symbole, it may dwell In her sonnes flesh, to mind revengement, And be for all chaste Dames an endlesse mouimeut.' XI. He hearkned to his reason, and the childe Uptaking, to the Palmer gave to beare ; But his sad fathers amies with blood defilde. An heavie load, himselfe did lightly reare ; And turning to that place, in which whyle- are He left his loftie steed with golden sell And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare : By other accident, that earst befell. He is convaide ; but how, or where, here fits not tell. XII. Which when Sir Guyon saw, all were he wroth. Yet algates mote he soft himselfe ap- pease, And fairely fare on foot, how ever loth : His double burden did him sore disease. So long they travelled with litle ease. Till that at last they to a Castle came. Built on a rocke adjoyning to the seas: It was an auncient worke of antique fame, And wondrous strong by nature, and by skiUull frame. Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort, The children of one syre by mothers three : Who dying whylome did divide this fort To them by equall shares in equall fee : Bnt stryfull mind and diverse qualitee Drew them in partes, and each made others foe: Still did they strive and daily disagree ; The eldest did against the youngest goe, And both against the middest meant to worken woe. XIV. Where when the knight arriv'd, he was right well Receiv'd, as knight of so much worth became. Of second sister, who did far excell The other two : Medina was her name, A sober sad and comely courteous Dame ; Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize. In goodly garments that her well became, Fay re marching forth in honorable wize, Him at the threshold mett, and well did enterprize. XV. She led him up into a goodly bowre, And comely courted with meet modestie ; Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour. Was lightnesse scene or looser vanitie. But gratioas womanhood, and gravitie. Above the reason of her youthly yeares. Her golden lockes she roundly did uptye In breaded tramels, that no looser heares Did out of order stray about her daintie eares. Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame Seemely to entertaine her new-come guest, Newes hereof to her other sisters came. Who all this while were at their wanton rest, Accourting each her frend with lavish fest: They were two knights of perelesse puis- saunce. And famous far abroad for warlike gest, Which to these Ladies love did coun- tenaunce. And to his mistresse each himselfe strove to advauuce. XVII. He that made love unto the eldest Dame, Was hight Sir Huddibras, an hardy man ; Yet not so good of deedes as great of name, Which he by many rash adventures wan, CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. Siuce errant armes to sew he first began : More hnge in strength than wise in workes he was, And reason with foole-hardize over ran ; Sterne melancholy did his courage pas, And was, for terrour more, all armd in shyniug bras. XVIII. But he that lov'd the youngest was Sansloy ; He, that faire Una late fowle outraged, The most unruly and the boldest boy That ever warlike weapons menaged, And all to lawlesse lust encouraged Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might ; Ne ought he car'd whom he endamaged By tortious wrong, or whom bereav'd of right : He, now this Ladies Champion, chose for love to fight. XIX. These two gay knights, vowd to so diverse loves, Each other does envy v/ith deadly hate, And daily warre against his foeman moves. In hope to win more favour with his mate. And th' others pleasing service to abate. To magnifie his owne. But when they heard How in that place straunge knight ar- rived late, Both knightes and ladies forth right angry far'd, And ferceiy unto battell sterne them- selves prepar'd. XX. But ere they could proceede unto the place Where he abode, themselves at discord fell. And cruell combat joynd in middle space : With horrible assault, and fury fell. They heapt huge strokes the scorned life to quell. That all on uprore from her settled seat. The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell. Seemd that lowde thunder with amaze- ment great Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat. The noyse thereof cald forth that straunger knight, To weet what dreadfull thing was there in bond ; Where whenas two brave knightes in bloody fight With deadly rancour he enraunged fond. His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond, And shyning blade unsheathd, with which he ran Unto that stead, their strife to under- stond ; And at his first arrivall them began With goodly meanes to pacific, well as he can. XXII. But they, him spying, both with greedy forse Attonce upon him ran, and him beset With strokes of mortall Steele without re- morse, And on his shield like yron sledges bet : As when a Beare and Tygre, being met In cruell fight on Lybicke Ocean wide, Espye a traveller with feet surbet, AVhom they in equall pray hope to divide. They stint their strife and him assayle on everie side. XXIII. But he, not like a weary traveilere, Their sharp assault right boldly did rebut. And suffred not their blowes to byte him uere. But with redoubled buffes them backe did put: Whose grieved mindes, which choler did englut. Against themselves turning their wrath- full spight, Gan with new rage their shieldes to hew and cut ; But still, when Guyon came to imrt their fight, With heavie load on him they freshly gan to smight. XXIV. As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas. Whom raging windes, threatning to make the pray Of the rough rockes, doe diversly disease, Meetes two contrarie billowes by the way, That her on either side doe sore assay. And boast to swallow her in greedy grave ; Shee, scorning both their spights, does make wide way, And with her brest breaking the fomy wave. Does ride on both their backs, ^n^ faire her self doth save. 114 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth Betweeue them both by conduct of his blade. "Wondrous great prowesse and heroick worth He shewd that day, and rare ensample made, When two so mighty warriours he dismade. Attonce he wards and strikes ; he takes and paies ; Now forst to yield, now forcing to invade ; Before, behind, and round about him laies ; So double was his paines, so double be his praise. XXVI. Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see Three combates joine in one, and to dar- raine A triple warre with triple enmitee, All for their Ladies froward love to gaine, Which gotten was but hate. So love does raine In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre ; He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe, And yett his peace is but continual jarre : O miserable men that to him subject arre ! XXVII. AVhilst thus they mingled were in furi- ous armes. The faire Medina, with her tresses torne And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes, Emongst them ran ; and , falling them be- forne, Besought them by the womb which them had born. And by the loves which were to them most deare. And by the knighthood which they sure had sworn, Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare, And to her just conditions of faire peace to heare. But her two other sisters, standing by. Her lowd gainsaid, and both their cham- pions bad Pursew the end of their strong enmity. As ever of their loves they would be glad : Yet she with pitthy words, and counsell sad. Still strove their stubborne rages to re- voke ; That at the last, suppressing fury mad, They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke. And hearken to the sober speaches which she spoke. XXIX. * Ah, puissaunt Lords! what cursed evil Spright, Or fell Erinnys, in your noble harts Her hellish brond hath kindled with de- spight. And stird you up to worke your wilfull smarts ? Is this the joy of armes? be these the parts Of glorious knighthood, after blood to thrust, And not regard dew right and just desarts ? Vaine is the vaunt, and victory unjust. That more to mighty hands then rightful! cause doth trust. * And were there rightfull cause of differ- ence. Yet were not better fayre it to accord Then with bloodguiltinesse to heape of- fence. And mortal vengeaunce joyne to crime abhoi'd ? O ! fly from wrath ; fly, O my liefest Lord ! Sad be the sights, and bitter fruites of warre. And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sAvord ; Ne ought the praise of prowesse more doth niarre Then fowle revenging rage, and base con- tentious jarre. ' But lovely concord, and most sacred peace, Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds, Weake she makes strong, and strong thing does increace. Till it the pitch of highest praise exceeds : Brave be her warres, and honorable deeds, By which shetriumphesoveryre and pride, And winnes an Olive girlond for her meeds. Be, therefore, O my deare Lords ! pacifide, And this misseeming discord meekelj^ lay aside.' XXXII. Her gracious words their rancour did appall. And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests, That downe they lett their cruell weapons fall. And lowly did abase their lofty crests CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 115 To her f aire presence and discrete behests. Then she began a treaty to procure, And stablish terms betwixt both their re- quests, That as a law for ever should endure ; Which to observe in word of knights they did assure. XXXIII. AVhich to confirme, and fast to bind their league, After their weary sweat and bloody toile, Slie them besought, during their quiet treague, Into her lodging to repaire awhile. To rest themselves, and grace to reconcile. They soone consent : so forth with her they fare; Where they are well receivd, and made to spoile Themselves of soiled armes, and to prepare Their minds to pleasure, and their mouths to dainty fare. And those two f roward sisters, their f aire loves. Came with them eke, all were they won- drous loth. And fained cheare, as for the time behoves, But could not colour yet so well the troth. But that their natures bad appeard in both : For both did at their second sister grutch And inly grieve, as doth an hidden moth The inner garment frett, not th' utter touch : One thought her cheare too litle, th' other thought too mutch. XXXV. Elissa (so the eldest hight) did deeme Such entertainment base, ue ought would eat, Ne ought would speake, but evermore did seeme As discontent for want of merth or meat : No solace could her Paramour intreat Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliaunee ; But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat, She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunoe ; Unworthy of faire Ladies comely gover- naunce. But young Perissa was of other mynd. Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light. And quite contrary to her sisters kynd : No measure in her mood, no rule of right. But poured out in pleasure and delight: In wine and meats she flowd above the banck, And in excesse exceeded her owne might; In sumptuous tire she joyd her selfe to pranck. But of her love too lavish: (litle have she thanck !) XXXVII. Fast by her side did sitt the bold Sansloy , Fitt mate for such a mincing mineon, Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding joy; Might not be found a francker franion, Of her leawd parts to make companion : But Huddibras, more like a Malecontent, Did see and grieve at his bold fashion ; Hardly could he endure his hardiment, Yett still he satt, and inly did him selfe torment. XXXVIII. Betwixt them both the faire Medina sate With sober grace and goodly carriage ; With equall measure she did moderate The strong extremities of their outrage. That forward paire she ever would as- swage, When they would strive dew reason to exceed ; But that same froward tw\aine would ac- corage, And of her plenty adde unto their need : So kept she them in order, and her selfe in heed. XXXIX. Thus fairely shee attempered her feast, And pleasd them all with meete satiety. At last, when lust of meat and drinke was ceast. She Guyon deare besought of curtesie To tell from whence he came through jeop- ardy, And whither now on new adventure bownd : Who with bold grace, and comely gravity, Drawing to him the eies of all arownd, From lofty siege began these words aloud to sownd. XL. 'This thy demauud, O Lady! doth re- vive Fresh memory in me of that great Queene, Great and most glorious virgin Queene alive. That with her soveraine power, and scepter shene, All Faery lond does peaceably sustene. In widest Ocean she her throne does reare. That over all the earth it may be seene ; ii6 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. As morniug Sunne her beames dispredden cleare, And ill her face faire pence and mercy doth appeare. In her the richesse of all heavenly grace In chiefe degree are heaped up on hye : And all, tliat els this worlds enclosure bace Hath great or glorious in niortall eye, Adornes the person of her Majestye ; That men, beholding so great excellence And rare perfection in mortalitye. Doe her adore with sacred reverence, As th' Idole of her makers great magnifi- cence. XLII. * To her I homage and my service owe, In number of the noblest knightes on ground ; Mongst whom on me she deigned to be- stowe Order of Maydenhead, the most renowud That may this day in all the world be found. An yearely solemne feast she woutes to hold. The daj' that first doth lead the yeare around. To which all knights of worth and cour- age bold Resort, to heare of strauuge adventures to be told. XLIII. ' There this old Palmer shewd himselfe that day. And to that mighty Princesse did com- plaine Of grievous mischiefes which a wicked Fay Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine ; Whereof he crav'd redresse. My Sover- aine, Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and joyes Throughout the world her mercy to maiu- taine. Eftsooues devisd redresse for such an- noyes : Me, all unfitt for so great purpose, she employes. XLIV. ' Now hath faire Phebe with her silver face Thrise scene the shadowes of the neather world, Sith last I left that honorable place. In which her roiall presence is enrold ; Ne ever shall I rest in house nor hold, Till I that false Acrasia have wonne ; Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to bee told, I witnesse am, and this their wretched Sonne, Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne.' XLV. 'Tell on, fayre Sir,' said she, 'that dolefull tale. From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine. That we may pitty such unhappie bale, And learne from pleasures poyson to ab- staine : 111 by ensample good doth often gayne.' Then forward he his purpose gan pursew. And told the story of the mortall payne, Which Mordant and Amavia did rew. As with lamenting eyes him selfe did lately vew. XLVI. Night was far spent ; and now in Ocean deep Orion, flying fast from hissing snake, His flaming head did hasten for to steep, AVhen of his pitteous tale he end did make: Whilst with delight of that he wisely spake Those guestes, beguyled, did beguyle their eyes Of kindly sleepe that did them overtake. At last, when they had markt the chaunged skyes. They wist their houre was spent; then each to rest him hyes. CANTO III. Yaine Brag^adocchio, getting Guy- ons horse, is made the scorne Of knighthood trew ; and is of fayre Belphoebe fowle forlorue. >XjV SooNE as the morrow fayre with purple beanies Disperst the shadowes of the misty night, And Titan, playing on the eastern streames. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 117 Gan cleare the deawy ayre with spring- hig light, Sir Guyon, mindfuU of his vow yplight, Uprose from drowsie couch, aud him addrest Unto the journey which he had hehight : His puissant amies ahout his nohle brest, AkI many-folded shield he bound about his wrest. II. Then, taking Conge' of that virgin pure, The bloody-lianded babe unto her truth Did earnestly committ, and her conjure In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth. And all that gentle noriture ensu'th; And that, so soone as ryper yeares he raught, He might, for memory of that dayes ruth, Be called Ruddymane ; and thereby taught T' avenge his Parents death on them that had it wrought. So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,. Sith his good steed is lately from him gone ; Patience perforce : helplesse what may it boot To f rett for anger, or for griefe to mone ? His Palmer now shall foot no more alone. So fortune wrought, as under greene woodes syde He lately heard that dying Lady grone, He left his steed without, and speare be- syde, And rushed in on foot to ayd her ere she dyde. IV. The whyles a losell wandring by the way, One that to bountie never east his raynd, Ne thought of honour ever did assay His baser brest, but in his kestrell kynd A pleasing vaine of glory he did fyud, To which his flowing toung and troublous spright Gave him great ayd, and made him more inclynd : He, that brave steed there finding ready dight, Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full light. Nov. ^,au his hart all swell in jollity. And of him selfe great hope and help con- ceiv'd. That puffed up with smoke of vanity, And with selfe-loved personage deceiV'd, He gan to hope of men to be receiv'd F'or such as he him thought, or faine would bee : But for in court gay portaunce he per- ceiv'd. And gallant shew to be in greatest gree, Eftsoones to court he cast t' advaunce his first degree. VI. And by the way he chaunced to espy One sitting ydle on a sunny banck, To him avaunting in great bravery. As Peacocke that his painted plumes doth pranck. He smote his courser in the trembling flanck, And to him threatned his hart-thrilling speare : The seely man, seeing him ryde so ranck. And ayme at him, fell fiatt to ground for feare. And crying, 'Mercy!' loud, his pitious handes gan reare. Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous prowd. Through fortune of his first adventure fayre. And with big thundring voice revyld him lowd : ' Vile Cay five, vassall of dread and de- spay re, Unworthie of the commune breathed ayre, Why livest thou, dead dog, a lenger day, And doest not unto death thyselfe pre- payre ? Dy, or thyselfe my captive yield for ay. Great favour I thee graunt for aunswere thus to stay.' 'Hold, O deare Lord! hold your dead- doing hand,' Then loud he cryde ; ' I am your humble thrall.' ' Ay wretch,' (quoth he) ' thy destinies withstand My wrathfull will, and doe for mercy call. I give thee life: therefore prostrated fall. And kisse my stirrup; that thy homage bee.' The Miser threw him selfe, as an Offall, Streight at his foot in base humilitee. And cleeped him his liege, to hold of him in fee. So happy peace they made and faire accord. ii8 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Ef tsoones this liegeman gan to wexe more bold, And when he felt the folly of his Lord, In his owne kind he gan him selfe unfold ; For he was wylie witted, and growne old In cunning sleightes and practick knavery. From that day forth he cast for to uphold His ydle humour with fine flattery, And blow the bellowes to his swelling vanity. X. Trompart, fitt man for Braggadochio, To serve at court in view of vaunting eye ; Vaine-glorious man, when fl.uttring wind does blow In his light winges, is lifted up to skye ; The scorne of knighthood and trew chev- alrye, To thinke, without desert of gentle deed And noble worth, to be advaunced hye : Such prayse is shame; but honour, ver- tues meed, Doth beare the fayrest flowre in honour- able seed. XI. So forth they pas, a well consorted pay re. Till that at length with Archimage they meet : Who seeing one, that shone in armour fay re. On goodly courser thondring with his feet, Eftsoones supposed him a person meet Of his revenge to make the instrument ; For since the Redcrosse knight he erst did weet To been with Guy on knitt in one consent, The ill, which earst to him, he now to Guyon ment. And coming close to Trompart gan in- quere Of him, what mightie warriour that mote bee. That rode in golden sell with single spere, But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee ? ' He is a great adventurer,' (said he) ' That hath his sword through hard assay forgone. And now hath vowd, till he avenged bee Of that despight, never to wearen none : That speare is him enough to doeu a thou- sand grone.' XIII. Th' enchaunter greatly joyed in the vaunt, And weened well ere long his will to win, And both his foen with equall foyle to daunt. Tho to him louting lowly did begin To plaine of wronges, which had com- mitted bin By Guyon, and by that false Redcrosse knight ; Which two, through treason and deceipt- full gin, Had slayne Sir Mordant and his Lady bright : That mote him honour win to wreak so foule despight. Therewith all suddeinly he seemd en- ragd, And threatned death with dreadfull coun- tenaunce. As if their lives had in his hand beene gagd ; And with stiffe force shaking his mortall launce. To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce. Thus said : ' Old man great sure shal be thy meed, If, where those knights for feare of dew vengeaunce Doe lurke, thou certeinly to mee areed. That I may wreake on them their hainous hatefull deed.' XV. * Certes, my Lord,' (said he) * that shall I soone. And give you eke good helpe to their de- cay. But mote I wisely you advise to doon, Give no ods to your foes, but doe purvay Your self* of sword before that bloody day; For they be two the prowest knights on grownd. And oft appro v'd in many hard assay; And eke of surest Steele that may be fownd, Do arme your self against that day, them to confownd.' 'Dotard,' (said he) 'let be thy deepe advise : Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile, And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise ; Els never should thy judgement be so frayle To measure manhood by the sword or mayle. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 119 Is not enough fowre quarters of a . -an, Withouteu "sword or shield, an 1 "^ "'^ quayle ? Thou litle wotest what this right-hand can : Speake they which have beheld the bat- tailes which it wan.' The man was much abashed at his boast; Yet well he wist that whoso would contend With either of those knightes on even coast, Should neede of all his amies him to de- fend, Yet feared least his boldnesse should offend, When Braggadocchio saide ; ' Once I did sweare. When with one sword seven knightes I brought to end, Thenceforth in battaile never sword to beare. But it were that which noblest knight on earth doth weare.' XVIII. * Perdy, Sir knight,' saide then th' en- chaunter blive, 'That shall I shortly purchase to your bond; For now the best and noblest knight alive Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond: He hath a sword that flames like burning brond. The same by my device I undertake Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.' At which bold word that boaster gan to quake, And wondred in his minde what mote that Monster make. He stayd not for more bidding, but away Was suddein vanished out of his sight : The Northerne winde his wings did broad display At his commaund, and reared him up light From off the earth to take his aerie flight. They lookt about, but nowhere could es- pye Tract of his foot : then dead through great affright They both nigh were, and each bad other flye: Both fled attonce, ne ever backe retourned eye; XX. "iVA that titpy come unto a forresf greeue. In which ihey t,Lruwd themselves from causeles feare ; Yet feare them followes still where so they beene : Each trembling leafe and whistling wind they heare, As ghastly bug, does greatly them aff eare ; Yet both doe strive their fearefulnesse to faine. At last they heard a home that shrilled cleare Throughout the wood that ecchoed againe. And made the forrest ring, as it would rive in twaine. ' XXI. Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush. With noyse w^hereof he from his loftie steed Downe fell to ground, and crept into a bush, To hide his coward head from dying dreed : But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped foorth A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed. That seemd to be a woman of great worth, And by her stately portance borne of heavenly birth. XXII. Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not, But hevenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew, Cleare as the skye, withouten blame or blot. Through goodly mixture of complexions dew; And in her cheekes the vermeill red did shew Like roses in a bed of lilies shed, The which ambrosiall odours from them threw, And gazers sence with double pleasure fed, Hable to heale the sicke, and to revive the ded. In her faire eyes two living lamps did flame. Kindled above at th' hevenly makers light, And darted fyrie beames out of the same. So passing persant, and so wondrous bright. That quite bereav'd the rash beholders sight: I20 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. In them the blinded god his lustf all fyre To kindle oft assayd, but had no might ; For, with dredd Majestic and awfull yre, She broke his wanton darts, and quenched bace desyre. XXIV. Her yvorie forhead, full of bountie brave. Like a broad table did it selfe dispred. For Love his loftie triumphes to engrave, And write the battailes of his great god- hed: All good and honour might therein be red, For there their dwelling was. And, when she spake, Sweete wordes like dropping honny she did shed ; And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake A silver sound, that heavenly musicke seemd to make. Upon her eyelids many Graces sate, Under the shadow of her even browes, Working belgardes and amorous retrate ; And everie one her with a grace endowes, And everie one with meekenesse to her bowes. So glorious mirrhour of celestial] grace, And soveraine monimentof mortall vowes, How shall f rayle pen descrive her heav- enly face, For feare, through want of skill, her beauty to disgrace ? So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire. She seemd, when she presented was to sight ; And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire. All in a silken Camus lilly whight, Purfled upon with many a folded plight, AVhich all above besprinckled w^as throughout AVith golden aygulets, thatglistred bright Like twinckling starres ; and all the skirt about Was hemd with golden fringe. Below her ham her weed did somewhat trayne, And her streight legs most bravely were embayld In gilden buskins of costly Cordwayne, All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld With curious antickes, and full fayre aumayld : Before, they fastned were under her knee In a rich Jewell, and therein entrayld The ends of all the knots, that none might see How they within Iheir fouldings close enwrapped bee : XXVIII. Like two faire marble pillours they were seene. Which doe the temple of the Gods sup- poi-t, Whom all the people decke with grrlands greene. And honour in their festivall resort ; Those same with stately grace and princely port She taught to tread, when she herself e would grace ; But with the woody Nymphes when she did play, Or when the flying Libbard she did chace, She could them nimbly move, and after fly apace. And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held, And at her backe a bow and quiver gay, Stuft with steele-headed dartes, where- with she queld The salvage beastes in her victorious play, Knit with a golden bauldricke, which fore- lay Athwart her snowy brest, and did divide Her daintie paps ; which, like young fruit in May, Now little gan to swell, and being tide Through her thin weed their places only signitide. XXX. Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden wyre. About her shoulders weren loosely shed, And, when the winde eraongst them did in spy re, They waved like a penon wyde dispred, And low behinde her backe were scattered : And, whether art it were or heedlesse hap. As through the flouring forrest rash she fled, In her rude heares sweet flowres them- selves did lap, And flourishing fresh leaves and blos- somes did enwrap. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. Such as Dial) a by the sandy shore Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene, Where all the Nyniphes have her unwares forlore, Waudreth alone with bow and arrowes keene, To seeke her game: Or as that famous Queene Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy, The day that first of Priame she was seene, Did shew her selfe in great triumphant joy, To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy. XXXII. Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew. He was dismayed in his coward minde. And doubted whether he hiniselfe should shew, Or fly away, or bide alone behinde; Both feare and hope he in her face did finde : When she at last him spying thus be- spake : ' Hayle, Groome! didst not thou see a bleeding Hyude, Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake ? If thou didst, tell me, that I may her overtake.' XXXIII. Wherewith reviv'd, this answere forth he threw : ' O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee) For nether doth thy face terrestriall shew, Nor voyce sound mortall ; I avow to thee, Such wounded beast as that I did not see, Sith earst into this forrest wild I came. But mote thy goodlyhed foi-give it mee, To weete which of the gods I shall thee name, That unto thee dew worship I may rightly frame.' xxxiv. To whom she thus — but ere her words ensewd. Unto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce. In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewd, And saw it stirre : she lef te her percing launce, And towards gan a deadly shafte advaunce, In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre Trompart forth stept to stay the mortall chaunce, Out crying; 'O! what ever heveuly powre. Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly liowre. 'O! stay thy hand; for yonder is no game For thy tiers arrowes, them to exercize , But loe ! my Lord, my liege, whose war- like name Is far renowmd through many bold em prize ; And now iu shade he shrowded yonder lies.' She staid : with that he crauld out of his nest. Forth creeping on his caitive hands and thies ; And, standing stoutly up, his lofty crest Did fiercely shake, and rowze as comming late from rest. As fearfull fowle, that long in secret cave For dread of soring hauke her selfe hath hid. Nor caring how, her silly life to save. She her gay painted plumes disorderid ; Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid, Peepes forth, and soone renews her native pride : She gins her feathers fowle disfigured Prowdly to prune, and sett on every side ; She shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide. xxxvii. So when her goodly visage he beheld. He gan himselfe to vaunt : but, when he vewd Those deadly tooles which iu her hand she held, Soone into other fitts he was transmewd, Till she to him her gracious speach renewd : ' All haile, Sir knight! and well may thee befall. As all the like, which honor have pursewd Through deeds of armes and prowesse martiall. All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.' xxxviii. To whom he thus: 'O fairest under skie! Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy praise, 122 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. That warlike feats doest highest glorifie. Therein I have spent all my youthly dales, And many battailes fought and many fraies Throughout the world, wher-so they might be found, Endevoring my dreaded name to raise Above the Moone, that fame may it resound In her eternall tromp, with laurell girlond Ground. XXXIX. ' But what art thou, O Lady ! which doest rauuge In this wilde forest, where no pleasure is, And doest not it for joyous court exchaunge, Emongst thine equall peres, where happy blis And all delight does raigne, much more then this ? There thou maist love, and dearly loved be, And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis : There maist thou best be scene, and best maist see : The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fitt for thee.' ' Who-so in pompe of prowd estate ' (quoth she) * Does swim, and bathes him selfe in courtly blis. Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee. And in oblivion ever buried is; Where ease abowuds yt's eath to doe amis : But who his limbs with labours, and his mynd Behaves with cares, cannot so easy mis. Abroad in armes, at home in studious kynd, AVho seekes with painfull toile shall honor soonest fynd : XLI. ' In woods, in waves, in warres, she wonts to dwell. And wil be found with perill and with paine ; Ne can the man that moulds in ydle cell Unto her happy mansion attaine : Before her gate high God did Sweate ordaine, And wakef ull watches ever to abide ; But easy is the way and passage plaine To pleasures pallace : it may soone be spide, And day and night her dores to all stand open wide. XLII. ' In Princes court ' — the rest she would have sayd. But that the foolish man, fild with delight Of her sweete words that all his sence dismayd. And with her wondrous beauty ravisht quight, Gan burne in filthy lust; and, leaping light. Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace. With that she, swarviug backs, her Javelin bright Against him bent, and fiercely did menace : So turned her about, and fled away apace. XLIII. Which when the Pesaunt saw, amazd he stood, And grieved at her flight; yet durst he nott Pursew her steps through wild unknowen wood : Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shott. Whiles in the bush he lay, not yett forgott : Ne car'd he greatly for her presence vayne. But turning said to Trompart ; * What fowle blott Is this to knight, that Lady should agayne Depart to woods untoucht, and leave so proud disdayne.' ' Perdy,' (said Trompart) ' lett her pas at will, Least by her presence daunger mote befall ; For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill) But that shee is some powre celestiall? For whiles she spake her great words did appall My feeble corage, and my heart oppresse, That yet I quake and tremble over-all.' 'And I,' (said Braggadocchio) * thought no lesse, When first I heard her horn sound with such ghastlinesse. ' For from my mothers wombe this grace I have Me given by eternall destiny, CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 123 That earthly thing may not my corage brave Dismay with feare, or cause one foot to tiye, But either hellish f eends, or powres on hye : Which was the cause, when earst that home I heard, Weening it had beene thunder in the skye, I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard ; But, when I other knew, my self I boldly reard. XLVI. * But now, for feare of worse that may betide, Let us soone hence depart.' They soone agree : So to his steed he gott, and gan to ride As one unfitt therefore, that all might see He had not trayned bene in chevalree. Which well that valiaunt courser did discerne ; For he despisd to tread in dew degree, But chaufd and fom'd with corage tiers and Sterne, And to be easd of that base burden still did erne. CANTO IV. Guyon does Furor bind in chalnes, And stops occasion : Delivers Phaon, and therefore By strife is rayld uppon. In brave poursuitt of honorable deed, There is I know not (what) great difference Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed, Which unto things of valorous pretence Seemes to be borne by native influence ; As feates of armes, and love to entertaine : But chiefly skill to ride seemes a science Proper to gentle blood : some others faine To menage steeds, as did this vaunter, but in value. II. But he, therightfull owner of that steede, Who well couid menage and subdew his pride, The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide, Who snff red not hiswandring f eete to slide ; But when strong passion, or weake flesli- linesse. Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide. He would, through temperaunce and sted- fastnesse. Teach him the weak to strengthen, and the strong suppresse. It fortuned, forth faring on his way. He saw from far, or seemed for to see, Some troublous uprore or contentious fray, Whereto he drew in hast it to agree. A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee. Drew by the heare along upon the grownd A handsom stripling with great crueltee, Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many a wownd. That cheekes with teares, and sydes with blood, did all abownd. And him behynd a wicked Hag did stalke. In ragged robes and filthy disaray ; Her other leg was lame, that she no'te walke, But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay: Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray, Grew all afore, and loosely hong unrold ; But all behinde was bald, and worne away, That none thereof could ever taken hold ; And eke her face ill-favourd, full of wrinckles old. And ever as she went her toung did walke In fowle reproch, and termes of vile despight. Provoking him, by her outrageous talke. To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight : Sometimes she raught him stones, wlier- with to smite. Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were, Withouten which she could not goe up- right ; Ne any evill meanes she did forbeare. That might him move to wrath, and indig- nation reare. 124 THE FAERIE QUEEN E. [book II. VI. The noble Guyon, mov'd with great remorse, Approching, lirst the Hag did thrust away ; And after, adding more impetuous forse, His mighty hands did on the madman lay, And pluekt him backe ; who, all on fire streight way. Against him turning all his fell intent. With beastly brutish rage gan him assay, And smott, and bitt, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent, And did he wist not what in his avenge- ment. VII. And sure he was a man of mickle might, Had he had governaunceit well to guj'-de ; But, when the frantick fitt inflamd his spright, His force was vaine, and strooke more often wyde, Then at the aymed marke which he had eyde: And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt un wares, Whylest reason, blent through passion, nought descryde ; But, as a blindfold Bull, at randon fares. And where he hits nought knowes, and whom he hurts nought cares. His rude assault and rugged handeling Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe In fayre defence and goodly menaging Of ar'mes was wont to fight ; yet nathemoe Was he abashed now, not fighting so ; But more enfierced through his currish play. Him sternly grypt, and hailing to and fro. To overthrow him strongly did assay. But overthrew him selfe unwares, and lower lay : IX. ^4.nd being downe the villein sore did beate And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face; And eke the Hag, with many a bitter threat. Still cald upon to kill him in the place. With whose reproch, and odious menace, The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart Kiiitt all his forces, and gan soone unbrace His grasping hold: so lightly did upstart, And drew his deadly weapon to maintaine his part. Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly cryde, * Not so, O Guyon ! never thinke that so That Monster can be maistred or de- stroy d : He is not, ah! he is not such a foe. As Steele can wound, or strength can over- throe. That same is Furor, cursed cruel wight. That unto knighthood workes much shame and woe : And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight Occasion ; the roote of all wrath and despight. XI. ' With her, whoso will raging Furor tame, Must first begin, and well her amenage : First her restraine from her reprochfull blame And evill meanes, with which she doth enrage Her frantick Sonne, and kindles his corage; Then, when she is withdrawne or strong withstood, It's eath his ydle fury to aswage, And calme the tempest of his passion wood : The bankes are overflowue when stopped is the flood.' XII. Therewith Sir Guyon left his first em- prise. And, turning to that woman, fast her hent By the hoare lockes that hong before her eyes. And to the ground her threw : yet n'ould she stent Her bitter rayling and foule revilement. But still provokt her sonne to wreake her wrong ; But nathelesse he did her still torment. And, catching hold of her ungratious tonge Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and strong. XIII. Then, when as use of speach was from her reft, With her two crooked handes she signes did make, And beckned him, the last help she had left ; But he that last left helpe away did take, And both her handes fast bound unto a stake, That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flye Full fast away, and did her quite forsake ; But Guyon after him in hast did hye, CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. And soone him overtooke in sad per- plexitye. XIV. In his strong amies he stifly him em- braste, Who him gainstriving nought at all pre- vaild; For all his power was utterly defaste, And furious fitts at earst quite weren quaild : Oft he re'nforst, and oft his foi'ces fayld, Yet yield he would not, nor his rancor slack. Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hay Id, And both his hands fast bound behind his backe, And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke. XV. With hundred yron chaines he did him bind, And hundred knots, that did him sore constraine ; Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind And grimly gnash, threatniug revenge in vaine : His burning eyen, whom bloody strakes did stain e, Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fyre ; And more for ranck despight then for great paine, Shakt his long locks colourd like copper- wyre, And bitt his ta-^Tiy beard to shew his raging yre. XVI. Thus when as Guy on Furor had captivd, Turning about he saw that wretched Squyre, Whom that mad man of life nigh late deprivd. Lying on ground, all soild with blood and myre : Whom whenas he perceived to respyre, He gan to comfort, and his woundes to dresse. Being at last recured, he gan inquyre What hard mishap him brought to such distresse, And made that caytives thrall, the thrall of wretchednesse. With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes, * Fayre Sir ' (quoth he) ' what man can shun the hap, That hidden lyes un wares him to surpryse? Misfortune waites advantage to entrap The man most wary in her whelming lap : So me weake wretch, of many weakest one, Unweeting and unware of such mishap, She brought to mischiefe through Occa- sion Where this same wicked villein did me light upon. XVIII. ' It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse Of all my sorrow and of these sad teares. With whom from tender dug of commune nourse Attonce I was upbrought ; and eft, when yeares More rype us reason lent to chose our Peares, Our selves in league of vowed love wee knitt ; In which we long time, without gealous feares Or faultie thoughts, contynewd as was fitt ; And for my part, I vow, dissembled not a whitt. XIX. ' It was my fortune, commune to that age. To love a Lady fayre of great degree, The wliich was borne of noble parentage. And set in highest seat of dignitee. Yet seemd no lesse to love then lov'd to bee: Long I her serv'd, and found her faithfull still, Ne ever thing could cause us disagree. Love, that two harts makes one, makes eke one will ; Each strove to please, and others pleasure to fulfill. ' My friend, hight Philemon, I did par- take Of all my love and all my privitie ; , Who greatly joyous seemed for my sake. And gratious to that Lady as to mee ; Ne ever wight that mote so welcome bee As he to her, withouten blott or l)lame ; Ne ever thing that she could think or see. But unto him she would impart the same. O wretched man, that would abuse so gentle Dame! ' At last such grace I found , and meanes I wrought", That I that Lady to my spouse had wonne ; 126 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Accord of friendes, consent of Parents sought, Aflfyaunce made, my happinesse begonne, There wanted nought but few rites to be donne, Which mariage make : that day too farre did seeme. Most joyous man, on whom the shining Sunne Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme, And that my falser friend did no less joy- ous deeme. XXII. * But ear that wished day his beame disclosd. He, either envying my toward good. Or of him selfe to treason ill disposd, One day unto me came in friendly mood, And told for secret, how he imderstood That Lady, whom I had to me assynd, Had both distaind her honorable blood. And eke the faith which she to me did bynd; And therefore wisht me stay till I more truth should fynd. 'The gnawing anguish, and sharp gelosy, Which his sad speach infixed in my brest, Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly. That my engreeved mind could find no rest, Till that the truth thereof I did out wrest ; And him besought, by that same sacred band Betwixt us both, to counsell me the best: He then with solemne oath and plighted hand Assurd, ere long the truth to let me under- stand. XXIV. * Ere long with like againe he boorded mee, Saying, he now had boulted all the floure, And that it was a groome of base degree. Which of my love was partener Para- moure : Who used in a darkesome inner bowre Her oft to meete : which better to approve. He promised to bring me at that howre, When I should see that would me nearer move. And drive me to withdraw my blind abused love. XXV. 'This gracelesse man, for furtherance of his guile, Did court the handmayd of my Lady deare, Who, glad t' embosome his affection vile, Did all she might more pleasing to appeare. One day. to worke her to his will more neare, Hewoo'd herthus: Pryene, (soshehight,) What great despight doth fortune to thee beare, Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright. That it should not deface all others lesser light? XXVI. ' But if she had her least helpe to thee lent, T' adorne thy forme according thy desart. Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone have blent, And staynd their prayses with thy least good part ; Ne should faire Claribell with all her art, Tho' she thy Lady be, approch thee neare : For proofe thereof, this evening, as thou art, Aray thyselfe in her most gorgeous geare. That I may more delight in thy embrace- ment deare. XXVII. ' The Mayden, proud through praise and mad through love. Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe arayd. The whiles to me the treachour did re- move His craftie engin ; and, as he had sayd, Me leading, in a secret corner layd. The sad spectatour of my Tragedie: Where left, he went, and his owue false part playd, Disguised like that groome of base degree. Whom he had feignd th' abuser of my love to bee. XXVIII. ' Ef tsoones he came unto th' appointed place, And with him brought Pryene, rich arayd , In Claribellaes clothes. Her proper face 1 not descerned in that darkesome shade. But weend it was my love with whom he playd. Ah God ! what horrour and tormenting griefe My hart, my handes, mine eies, and all assayd ! Me liefer were ten thousand deathes priefe Then wounde of gealous worme, and shame of such repriefe. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 127 * I home refcourniug, fraught with fowle despight, And chawing vengeaunce all the way I went, Soone as my loathed love appeard in sight, With wrathfull hand I slew her innocent, That after soone I dearely did lament ; For, when the cause of that outrageous deede Demaunded, I made plaine and evident, Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale did breede, Confest how Philemon her wrought to chaunge her weede. * "Which when I heard, with horrible affright And hellish fury all enragd, I sought Upon myselfe that vengeable despight To punish: yet it better first I thought To wreake my wrath on him that first it wrought : To Philemon, false fay tour Philemon, I cast to pay that I so dearely bought. Of deadly drugs I gave him drinke anon. And washt away his guilt with guilty potion. XXXI. 'Thus heaping crime on crime, and grief e on grief e. To losse of love adjoyning losse of frend, I meant to purge both with a third mis- chiefe. And in my woes beginner it to end : That was Pryene ; she did first offend, She last should smart : with which cruell intent. When I at her my murdrous blade did bend, She fled away with ghastly dreriment. And I, poursewing my fell purpose, after went. XXXII. * Feare gave her winges, and rage en- forst my flight ; Through woods and plaines so long I did her chace. Till this mad man, whom your victorious might Hath now fast bound, me met in middle space. As I her, so he me poursewd apace. And shortly overtooke : I, breathing yre. Sore chauffed at my stay in such a cace. And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre ; Which kindled once, his mother did more rage inspyre. * Betwixt them both they have me doen to dye. Through wounds, and strokes, and stub- borne handeliug. That death were better then such agony As griefe and fury unto me did bring; Of which in me yet stickes the mortall sting. That during life will never be appeasd! ' When he thus ended had his sorrowing, Said Guyon ; ' Squyre, sore have ye beene diseasd, But all your hurts may soone through temperance be easd.' Then gan the Palmer thus ; ' Most wretched man. That to affections does the bridle lend ! In their beginning they are weake and wan. But soone through suff'rance growe to fearefull end : Whiles they are weake, betimes with them contend ; For, when they once to perfect strength do grow. Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend Gainst fort of Reason, it to overthrow : Wrath, gelosy, griefe, love, this Squyre have laide thus low. XXXV. 'Wrath, gealosie, griefe, love, do thus expell : Wrath is a fire ; and gealosie a weede ; Griefe is a flood ; and love a monster fell ; The fire of sparkes, the weede of little seede, The flood of drops, the Monster filth did breede : But sparks, seed, drops, and filth, do thus delay ; The sparks soone quench, the springing seed outweed, The drops dry up, and filth wipe cleane away: So shall wrath, gealosy, griefe, love, die and decay.' xxxvi. 'Unlucky Squire,' (saide Guyon) ' sith thou hast Falne into mischiefe through intemper- aunce, 128 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Henceforth take heede of that thou now hast past, And guyde thy waies with warie gov- ernauuce, Least worse betide thee by some later chaunce. But read how art thou nam'd, and of what Ivin?' ' Phaon I liight,' (quoth he) ' and do ad- vaunce Mine auncestry from famous Coradin, Who first to rayse our house to honour did begin. XXXVII. Thus as lie spake, lo! far away they spyde A varlet ronning towardes hastily, Whose flying feet so fast their way ap- plyde, That round about a cloud of dust did fly. Which, mingled all with sweate, did dim his eye. He soone approched, panting, breathlesse, whot, And all so soyld that none could him descry : His countenaunce was bold, and bashed not For Guyons lookes, but scornefull eye- glaunce at him shot. XXXVIII. Behind his backe he bore a brasen shield. On which was drawen faire, in colours fit, A flaming fire in midst of bloody field. And round about the wreath this word was writ. Burnt I doe hurne. Eight well beseemed it To be the shield of some redoubted knight ; And in his hand two dartes, exceeding flit And deadly sharp, he held, whose heads were dight In poyson and in blood of malice and despight. XXXIX. When he in presence came, to Guyon first He boldly spake ; ' Sir knight, if knight thou bee, Al)andon this forestalled place at erst, For feare of further harme, I counsell thee ; Or bide the chaunce at thine owne jeo- pardee.' The knight at his great boldnesse won- dered : And, though he scornd his ydle vanitee. Yet mildly him to purpose answered ; For not to grow of nought he it conjec- tured. XL. * Varlet, this place most dew to me I deeme, Yielded by him that held it forcibly : But whence should come that iiarme, which thou dost seeme To threat to him that mindes his chaunce t' abye?' ' Ferdy,' (sayd he) ' here comes, and is hard by, A knight of wondrous powre and great assay. That never yet encountred enemy But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dis- may ; Ne thou for better hope, if thou his pres- ence stay.' XLI. 'How hight he then,' (sayd Guyon) ' and from whence ? ' ' Pyrochles is his name, renowmed farre For his bold feates and hardy confidence, Full oft appro vd in many a cruell warre ; The brother of Cymochles, botli which arre The sonnes of old Aerates and Despight; Aerates, sonne of Phlegetonand Jarre; But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and Night ; But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is hight. ' So from immortall I'ace he does pro- ceede. That mortall hands may not withstand his might, Drad for his derring doe and bloody deed ; For all in blood and spoile is his delight. His am I Atin, his in wrong and right, That matter make for him to worke upon, And stirre him up to strife and cruell fight. Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon. Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad con- fusion.' XLIII. 'His be that care, whom most it doth concerne,' (Sayd he) ' but whither with such hasty flight Art thou now bownd? for well mote I disc erne Great cause, that carries thee so swifte and Jight.' ' My Lord,' (quoth he) ' me sent, and streight behight CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 129 To seeke Occasion, where so she bee: For he is all disposd to bloody fight, And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltee : Hard is his hap that first fals in his jeop- ardee.' XLIV. ' Mad man,' (said then the Palmer) ' that does seeke Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife: Shee comes unsought, and shonned fol- io wes eke. Happy! who can abstaine, when Rancor rife Kindles Revenge, and threats his rusty knife. Woe never wants where every cause is caught ; And rash Occasion makes unquiet life ! ' * Then loe ! wher bound she sits, whom thou hast sought,' Said Guyon : ' let that message to thy Lord be brought.' XLV. That when the varlett heard and saw, streight way He wexed wondrous wroth, and said ; ' Vile knight, That knights and knighthood doest with shame upbray, And shewst th' ensample of thy childishe might, With silly weake old woman that did fight! Great glory and gay spoile, sure hast thou gott. And stoutly prov'd thy puissaunce here in sight. That shall Pyrochles well requite, I wott, And with tliy blood abolish so reproch- full blott.' With that one of his thrillant darts he threw, Headed with yre and vengeable despight. The quivering Steele his aymed end wel knew. And to his brest it selfe intended right : But he was wary, and, ere it empight In the meant marke, advaunst his shield atweene, On which it seizing no w^ay enter might. But backe rebownding left the forckhead keene : Eftsoones he fled away, and might no where be scene. CANTO V. Pyrochles does with Guyon fight, And Furors chayne untyes, Who him sore wounds : whiles Atin to Cymochles for ayd flyes. Who ever doth to temperaunce apply His stedfast life, and all his actions frame. Trust me, shal find no greater enimy Then stubborne perturbation to the same; To which right wel the wise doe give that name. For it the goodly peace of staled mindes Does overthrow, and troublous warre proclame : His owne woes author, who so bound it findes, As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully unbindes. II. After that varlets flight, it was not long Ere on the plains fast pricking Guyon spide Pne in bright arme§ gmbatteiled full strong, That, as the Sunny beames do glaunce and glide Upon the trembling wave, so shined bright. And round about him threw forth spark- ling fire, That seemd him to enflame on every side : His steed was bloody red, and fomed When with the maistring spur he did him roughly stire. Approching nigh, he never staid to greete, Ne chaff ar words, prowd corage to pro- voke. But prickt so fiers, that underneath his feete The smouldring dust did rownd about him smoke. Both horse and man nigh ?iblQ for to choke ; I30 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. And fayrly couching his steeleheaded speare, Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke: It booted nought Sir Guy on, comming neare, To thincke such hideous puissaunce on foot to beare ; IV. But lightly shunned it ; and, passing by, With his bright blade did smite at him so fell, That the sharpe Steele, arriving forcibly On his broad shield, bitt not, but glauuc- ing fell On his horse necke before the quilted sell. And from the head the body sundred quight. So him dismounted low he did compell Ou foot with him to matcheu equall fight : The truncked beast fast bleeding did him fowly dight. V. Sore bruzed with the fall he slow up- rose, And all enraged thus him loudly shent ; ' Disleall Knight, whose coward corage chose To wreake it selfe on beast all innocent, And shund the marke at which it should be ment ; Therby thine armes seem strong, but manhood f rayl : So hast thou oft with guile thine honor blent; But litle may such guile thee now avayl. If wonted force and fortune doe me not much fayl.' VI. With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke At him so fiercely, that the upper marge Of his sevenfolded shield away it tooke. And, glauncing on his helmet, made a large And open gash therein : were not his targe That broke the violence of his intent, The weary sowle from thence it would discharge ; Nathelesse so sore a buff to him it lent. That made him reele, and to his brest his bever bent. Exceeding wroth was Guyou at that blow. And much ashamd that stroke of living arme Should him dismay, and make him stoup so low, Though otherwise it did him litle harme : Tho, hurling high his yron braced arme. He smote so manly on his shoulder plate. That all his left side it did quite disarme ; Yet there the steel stayd not, but inly bate Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate. VIII. Deadly dismayd with horror of that dint Pyrochles was, and grieved eke entyre ; Yet nathemore did it his fury stint. But added flame unto his former fire, That wel nigh molt his hart in raging yre : Ne thenceforth his approved skill, to ward, Or strike, or hurtle rownd in warlike gyre, Remembred he, ne car'd for his saufgard, But rudely rag'd, and like a cruell tygre far'd. He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thondred blowes. And every way did seeke into his life ; Ne plate, ne male, could ward so mighty throwes. But yeilded passage to his cruell knife. But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife, Was wary wise, and closely did awayt Avauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife: Sometimes athwart, sometimes he strook him stray t, And falsed oft his blowes t' illude him with such bayt. Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre A prowd rebellious Unicorn defyes, T' avoide the rash assault and wrathful stowre Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applyes, And when him ronning in full course he spyes, He slips aside ; the whiles that furious beast His precious home, sought of his en- imyes. Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast, But to the mighty victor yields a bounte- ous feast. XI. With such faire sleight him Guyon often fayld. Till at the last all breathlesse, weary, faint. CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 131 Him spying, with fresh onsett he as- sayld, And kindling new his corage seeming queint, Strooke him so hugely, that through great constraint He made him stoup perforce unto his knee. And doe unwilling worship to the Saint, That on his shield depainted he did see : Such homage till that instant never learned hee. XII. Whom Guyon seeing stoup, poursewed fast The present offer of faire victory, And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast, Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye, That straight on grownd made him full low to lye ; Then on his brest his victor foote he thrust : With that he cryde ; ' Mercy ! doe me not dye, Ne deelue thy force by fortunes doome unjust, That hath (maugre ner spight) thus low me laid in dust.' XIII. Eftsoones his cruel hand Sir Guyon stayd, Tempring the passion with advizement slow, And maisti-ing might on enimy dismayd ; For th' equall die of warre he well did know: Then to him said ; ' Live, and alleagaunce owe To him that gives thee life and liberty ; And henceforth by this dales ensample trow. That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardry, Doe breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamy.' XIV. So up he let him rise; who, with grim looke And count'naunce sterne, upstanding, gan to grind His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shook e His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind. Knotted in blood and dust, for grief of mind That he in ods of armes was conquered : Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find, That him so noble knight had maystered ; Whose bounty more then might, yet both, he wondered. Which Guyon marking said ; ' Be nought agriev'd. Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre : Was never man, who most conquestes atchiev'd. But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre. Yet shortly gaynd that losse exceeded farre. Losse is no shame, nor to bee lesse then foe; But to bee lesser then himselfe doth mar re Both loosers lott, and victours prayse alsoe : Value others overthrowes who selfe doth overthrow. XVI. 'Fly, O Pyrochles! fly the dreadfull warre That in thy selfe thy lesser partes do move ; Outrageous anger, and woe-working jarre, Direfull impatience, and hart-murdring love: Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remove. Which thee to endlesse bale captived lead. But sith in might thou didst my mercy prove. Of courtesie to mee the cause aread That thee against me drew with so im- petuous dread. XVII. ' Dreadlesse,' (said he) ' that shall I soone declare. It was complaind that thou hadst done great tort ITnto an aged woman, poore and bare. And thralled her in chaines with strong effort, Voide of all succour and needful 1 comfort ; That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see. To worke such shame. Therefore, I thee exhort To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion free. And to her captive sonne yield his first libertee.' Thereat Sir Guyon smylde ; * And is that all,' 132 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. (Said he) * that thee so sore displeased hath ? Great mercy, sure, for to enlarge a thrall, Whose freedom shall thee turne to great- est scatli! Nath'lesse now quench thy whott emboyl- ing wrath : Loe ! there they bee ; to thee I yield them free.' Thereat he, wondrous glad, out of the path Did lightly leape, where he them bound did see, And gan to breake the bands of their captivitee. XIX. Soone as Occasion felt her selfe untyde, Before her sonne could well assoyled bee, She to her use returnd, and streight defyde Both Guyon and Pyrochles ; tli' one (said shee) Bycause he wonne ; the other, because hee Was wonne. So matter did she make of nought, To stirre up strife, and garre them dis- agree : But, soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought To kindle his quencht fyre, and thousand causes wrought. It was not long ere she inflam'd him so, That he would algates with Pyrochles fight, And his redeemer chalengd for his foe, Because he had not well mainteind his right. But yielded had to that same straunger knight. Now gan Pyrochles wex as wood as hee. And him affronted with impatient might: So both together tiers eugrasped bee, Whyles Guyon standing by their un- couth strife does see. Him all that while Occasion did provoke Against Pyrochles, and new matter fram'd Upon the old, him stirring to bee wroke Of his late wronges, in which she oft him blam'd For suffering such abuse as knighthood sham'd. And him dishabled quyte. But he was wise, Ne would with vaine occasions be in- flam'd ; Yet others she more urgent did devise ; Yet nothing could him to impatience entise. XXII. Their fell contention still increased more, And more thereby increased Furors might. That he his foe has hurt and wounded sore. And him in blood and durt deformed quight. His mother eke, more to augment his spight, Now brought to him a flaming fyer brond. Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning bright. Had kindled : that she gave into his bond. That armd with fire more hardly he mote him withstond. XXIII. Tho gan that villein wex so fiers and strong, That nothing might sustaine his furious f orse : He cast him downe to ground, and all along Drew him through durt and myre without remorse. And fowly battered his comely corse. That Guyon much disdeigued so loathly sight. At last he was compeld to cry perforse, ' Help, O Sir Guyon ! helpe, most noble knight. To ridd a wretched man from handes of hellish wight ! ' XXIV, The knight was greatly moved at his playnt, And gan him dight to succour his dis- tresse, Till that the Palmer, by his grave re- stray nt, Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse, And said ; ' Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth repi-esse, Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne : He that his sorrow sought through wilful- nesse, And his foe fettred would release agayne. Deserves to taste his follies fruit, re- pented payne.' CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. ^33 Guyon obayd : So him away he drew From needlesse trouble of renewing fight Already fought, his voyage to poursew. But rash Pyrochles variett, Atin hight, When late he saw his Lord in heavie plight Under Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall, Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight, Fledd fast away to tell his funerall Unto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call, XXVI. He was a man of rare redoubted might. Famous throughout the world for war- like prayse, And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight: Full many doughtie knightes he in his dayes Had doen to death, subdewde in equall frayes Whose carkases, for terrour of his name. Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous prayes. And hong their conquerd armes, for more defame, On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest Dame. XXVII. His dearest Dame is that Enchaunter- esse, The vyle Aerasia, that with value de- lightes. And ydle pleasures in her Bowre of Blisse, Does charme her lovers, and the feeble sprightes Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes ; Whom then she does transforme to mon- strous hewes. And horribly misshapes with ugly sightes, Captiv'd eternally in yron mewes And darksom dens, where Titan his face never shewes. XXVIII. There Atin fownd Cymochles so- journing. To serve his Lemans love : for he by kynd Was given all to lust and loose living, When ever his fiers handes he free mote fynd: And now he has pourd out his ydle mynd In daintie delices, and lavish joyes. Having his warlike weapons cast behynd. And flowes in pleasures and vaine pleasing toyes, Mingled emougst loose Ladies and lascivi- ous boyes. XXIX. And over him art, stryving to compayre With nature, did an Arber greeue dispred, Framed of wanton Yvie, flouring fay re, Throiigh which the fragrant Eglantine did spred His prickling armes, entrayld with roses red. Which daintie odours round about them threw : And all within with flowres was garnished, That, when myld Zephyrus emo'ngst them blew. Did, breath out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew. And fast beside there trickled softly downe A gentle streame, whose murmuring wave did play Emongst the pumy stones, and made a sowne, To lull him soft asleepe that by it lay : The wearie Traveller, wandring that way. Therein did often quench his thristy heat. And then by it his wearie limbes display. Whiles creeping slomber made him to forget His former payne, and wypt away his toilsom sweat. And on the other syde a pleasaunt grove W^as shott up high, full of the stately tree That dedicated is t' Olympick Jove, And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee In Nemus gayned goodly victoree: Therein the mery birdes of every sorte Chaunted alowd their chearefull har- monee. And made emongst them selves a sweete consort, That quickned the dull spright with musicall comfort. There he him found all carelesly displaid. In secrete shadow from the sunny ray. On a sweet bed of lillies softly laid, Amidst a flock of Damzelles fresh and gay. That rownd about him dissolute did play Their wanton follies and light meriments : 134 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Eveiy of which did loosely disaray Her upper partes of meet habiliments, And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments. And every of them strove with most delights Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew: Some framd faire lookes, glancing like evening lights ; Others sweet wordes, dropping like honny dew; Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew The sugred licour through his melting- lips: One boastes her beautie, and does yield to vew Her dainty limbes above her tender hips ; Another her out boastes, and all for tryall strips. XXXIV. He, like an Adder lurking in the weedes. His wandring thought in deepe desire does steepe. And his frayle eye with spoyle of beauty feedes : Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe. Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt. Whereby close fire into his heart does creepe : So he them deceives, deceivd in his deceipt. Made dronke with drugs of deare voluptu- ous receipt. Atin, arriving there, when him he spyde Thus in still waves of deepe delight to wade, Fiercely approching to him lowdly cryde, 'Cymochles; oh! no, but Cymochles shade, In which that manly person late did fade. What is become of great Aerates sonne ? Or where hath he hong up his mortall blade. That hath so many haughty conquests wonne ? Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne?' XXXVI. Then, pricking him with his sharp- pointed dart, He saide ; ' Up, up ! thou womanish weake knight. That here in Ladies lap entombed art, .Uumindfull of thy praise and prowest might, And weetlesse eke of lately wrought despight, Whiles sad Pyrochles lies on sencelesse ground. And groneth out his utmost grudging spright Through many a stroke and many a streaming wound. Calling thy help in vaine that here in joyes art dround.' XXXVII. Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame The man awoke, and would have questioud more ; But he would not endure that wofull theame For to dilate at large, but urged sore. With perciug wordes and pittif ull implore, Him hasty to arise. As one affright With hellish feeuds, or Furies made up- rore. He then uprose, inflamd with fell despight. And called for his armes, for he would algates fight : They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight, And lightly mounted passeth on his way ; Ne Ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties, might Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay ; For he has vowd to beene avengd that day (That day it selfe him seemed all too long) On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay: So proudly pricketh on his courser strong. And Atin ay him pricks with spurs of shame and wrong. CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 135 CANTO VI. Guyon is of immodest Merth Led into loose desyre ; Fights withCymochles, whiles his bro- ther burns in furious fyre. A HARDER lesson to learne Continence In joyous pleasure then in griev'ous paiue ; For sweetnesse doth allure the weaker seuce So strongly, that uneathes it can refraine From that which feeble nature covets faine : But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies And foes of life, she better can abstaine : Yet vertue vauntes in both her victories, And Guyon in them all shewes goodly maysteries. II. Whom bold Cymochles travelling to finde. With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him The wrath which Atin kindled in his mind. Came to a river, by whose utmost brim Way ting to passe , he saw whereas did swim Along the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye, A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim With boughes and arbours woven cun- ningly, That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly. And therein sate a Lady fresh and fay re, Making sweet solace to herself e alone: Sometimes she song as lowd as larke in ay re. Sometimes she laught, as merry as Pope Jone; Yet was there not with her else any one, That to her might move cause of meriment : Matter of merth enough, though there were none, She could devise ; and thousand waies invent To feede her foolish humour and vaine jolliment. IV. Which when far off Cymochles heard and saw, He lowdly cald to such as were abord The little barke unto the shore to draw, And him to ferry over that deepe ford. The merry mariner unto his word Sooue hearkned, and her painted bote streightway Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike Lord She in receiv'd; but Atin by no way She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray. V. Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide. More swift then swallow sheres the liquid skye, Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide. Or winged canvas with the wind to fly: Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by It cut away upon the yielding wave, Ne cared she her course for to apply ; For it was taught the way which she would have. And both from rocks and flats it selfe could wisely save. VI. And all the way the wanton Damsell found New merth her passenger to entertains ; For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound, And greatly joyed merry tales to faine, Of which a store-house did with her remaine : Yet seemed, nothing well they her became ; For all her wordes she drownd with laughter vaine, And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same. That turned all her pleasaunce to a scoffing game. VII. And other whiles vaine toyes she would devize, As her fantasticke wit did most delight : Sometimes her head she fondly would agnize With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight About her necke, or rings of rushes pliglit : Sometimes, to do him laugh, she would assay To laugh at shaking of the leaves light 36 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Or to behold the water Avorke and play About her little frigot, therein making way. VIII. Her light behaviour and loose dalliaunce Gave wondrous great contentment to the knight, That of his way he had no sovenaunce, Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruell tight, But to weake wench did yield his martiall might : So easie was to quench his flamed minde With one sweete drop of sensuall delight. So easie is t' appease the stormy winde Of malice in the calme of pleasaunt woman-kind. IX. Diverse discourses in their way they spent; Mongst which Cy mochles of her questioned Both what she was, and what that usage ment, Which in her cott she daily practized ? ' Value man,' (saide she) ' that wouldest be reckoned A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt Of Phsedria, (for so my name is red) Of Phsedria, thine owne fellow servaunt; For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt. ' In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row. That knowes her port, and thither sayles by ayme, Ne care, ne feare I how the wind do blow. Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow : Both slow and swift alike do serve my tourne ; Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd thundring Jove Can chaunge ray cheare, or make me ever mourne : My little boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.' XI. Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd. They were far past the passage which he spake. And come unto an Island waste and voyd. That floted in the midst of that great lake ; There her small (iondelay her port did make, And that gay payre, issewing on the shore. Disburdned her. Their way they forward take Into the land that lay them faire before, Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and plentifull great store. It was a chosen plott of fertile land, Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest, As if it had by Natures cunning hand Bene choycely picked out from all the rest, And laid forth for ensample of the best: No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd. No arborett with painted blossomes drest And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd. XIII. No tree whose braunches did not bravely spring ; No braunch w^hereon a fine bird did not sitt ; No bird but did her shrill notes sweetely sing; No song but did containe a loA'ely ditt. Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, w^ere framed fitt For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease : Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake watt Was overcome of thing that did him please ; So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire appease. XIV. Thus when shee had his eyes and sences fed AVith false delights, and fild with pleas- ures vayn. Into a shady dale she soft him led. And layd him downe upon a grassy playn ; And her sweete selfe without dread or dis- dayn She sett beside, laying his head disarmd In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn. Where soone he slumbred fearing not be harmd : The whiles with a love lay she thus him sweetly charmd. XV. ' Behold, O man! that toilesome paines doest take, The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleas- aunt growes. How they them selves doe thine ensample make, Whiles nothing envious nature them forth throwes Out of her fruitfull lap; how no man knowes, CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 137 They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh aud taire, And decke the world with their rich pora- pous showes ; Yet no man for them taketli paines or care, Yet no man to them can his caref ull paines compare. XVI. ' The lilly, Lady of the tiowring field. The flowre-deluce, her lovely Paramoure, Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield, And soone leave off this toylsome weary stoure : Loe, loe ! how brave she decks her boun- teous boure, With silkin curtens aud gold coverletts, Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Bela- moure ; Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor fretts. But to her mother Nature all her care she letts. XVII. ' Why then doest thou, O man! that of them all Art Lord, and eke of nature Soveraine, Wilfully make thyself e a wretched thrall, And waste thy joyous howres in needelesse paine, Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine ? What bootes it al to have, and nothing use? Who shall him rew that swimming in the maine Will die for thrist, and water doth refuse ? Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures chuse.' By this she had him lulled fast asleepe. That of no worldly thing he care did take: Then she with liquors strong his eies did steepe. That nothing should him hastily awake. So she him lefte, and did her selfe betake Unto her boat again, with which she clefte The slouthfull wave of that great griesy lake : Soone shee that Island far behind her lefte, And now is come to that same place where first she wefte. By this time was the worthy Guyon brought Unto the other side of that wide strond Where she was rowing, and for passage sought. Him needed not long call ; shee soone to bond Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond With his sad guide: him selfe she tooke aboord , But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to stond, Ne would for price or prayers once affoord To ferry that old man over the perlous foord. XX. Guyon was loath to leave his guide be- hind. Yet being entred might not backe retyre ; For the flitt barke, obaying to her mind. Forth launched quickly as she did desire, Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire Adieu ; but nimbly ran her wonted course Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire. Whom nether wind out of their seat could forse Nor timely tides did drive out of their slug- gish sourse. XXI. And by the way, as was her wonted guize, Her mery fitt shee freshly gan to reare. And did of joy and jollity devize, Her selfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare. The knight was courteous, and did not for- beare Her honest merth and pleasaunce to par- take : But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare. And passe the bonds of modest merimake. Her dalliaunce he despis'd, and follies did forsake. XXII. Yet she still followed her former style. And said and did all that mote him delight. Till they arrived in that pleasaunt He, Where sleeping late she lefte her other knight. But whenas Guyon of that land had sight. He wist him selfe amisse, and angry said ; 'Ah, Dame! perdy ye have not doen me right. Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid : Me litle needed from my right way to have straid.' XXIII. ' Faire Sir,' (quoth she) ' be not displeasd at all. Who fares on sea may not commaund his way, Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call : The sea is wide, and easy for to stray; 138 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. The wind unstable, and doth never stay. But here a while ye may in safety rest, Till season serve new passage to assay: Better safe port then be in seas distrest.' Therewith she lauglit, and did her earnest end in jest. XXIV. But he, half e discontent, mote nathelesse Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore ; The joyes whereof and happy fruitful- uesse, Such as he saw she gan him lay before, And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made much more : The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring. The trees did bud, and early blossomes bore ; And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing. And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling. XXV. And she, more sweete then any bird on bough. Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part, And strive to passe (as she could well enough) Their native musicke by her skilful art : So did she all that might his constant hart Withdraw from thought of warlike enter- prize, And drowne in dissolute delights apart. Where noise of armes, or vew of martiall guize. Might not revive desire of knightly exer- cize. But he was wise, and wary of her will. And ever held his hand upon his hart ; Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill. As to despise so curteous seeming part That gentle Lady did to him impart : But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd. And ever her desired to depart. She list not heare, but her disports pour- sewd. And ever bad him stay till time the tide renewd. XXVII. And now by this Cymochles howre was spent. That he awoke out of his ydle dreme ; And, shaking off his drowsy dreriment, Gan him avize, howe ill did him beseme In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme. And quench the brond of his conceived yre : Tho up he started, stird with shame ex- treme, Ne staled for his Damsell to inquire. But marched to the Strond there passage to require. XXVIII. And in the way he with Sir Guyon mett, Accompanyde with Phjedria the faire : Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly frett. Crying; ' Let be that Lady debonaire, Thou recreaunt kuight, and soone thyselfe prepaire To batteile,if thou meane herlovetogayn. Loe, loe! already how the fowles hi aire Doe tlocke, awaiting shortly to obtayn Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of thy pay n.' XXIX. And therewithall he fiersly at him flew. And with importune outrage him assayld ; Who, soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew, And him with equall valew countervayld : Their mightie strokes their haberjeous dismayld, And naked made each others manly spalles ; The mortall Steele despiteously entayld Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles, That a large purple streame adowne their giambeux falles. Cymochles, that had never mett before So puissant foe, with envious despight His prowd presumed force increased more, Disdeigning too bee held so long in fight. Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might As those unknightly raylinges which he spoke. With wrathfull fire his corage kindled bright, Thereof devising shortly to be wroke, And doubling all his powres redoubled every stroke. XXXI. Both of them high attonce their handes enhaunst. And both attonce their huge blowes down did sway. Cymochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst. And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away; But Guyons angry blade so fiers did play On th' others helmett, which as Titan shone, CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 139 That quite it clove his plumed crest in tway, And bared all his head unto the bone ; Wherewith astonisht, still he stood as sencelesse stone. XXXII. Still as he stood, fayre Phaedria, that beheld That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran ; And at their feet her selfe most humbly feld, Crying with pitteous voyce, and couut'- nance wan, 'Ah, well away! most noble Lords, how can Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight. To shed your lives on ground ? Wo worth the man. That first did teach the cursed Steele to bight In his owne flesh, and make way to the living spright ! xxxm. ' If ever love of Lady did empierce Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place, Withhold your bloody handes from bat- taill fierce ; And, sith for me ye fight, to me this grace Both yield, to stay your deadlj^ stryfe a space.' They stayd a while, and forth she gan pro- ceede : * Most wretched woman and of wicked race , Tliat am the authour of this hainous deed, And cause of death betweeue two doughtie knights do breed ! XXXIV. ' But, if for me ye fight, or me will serve. Not this rude kynd of battaill, nor these armes Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterve, And doolefull sorrow heape wuth deadly harmes : Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes. Another warre, and other weapons, I Doe love, where love does give his sweet Alarmes Without bloodshed, and where the enimy Does yield unto his foe a pleasaunt victory. XXXV. * Debatef ull strife, and cruell enmity. The famous name of knighthood fowly sheud ; But lovely peace, and gentle amity, And in Amours the passing howres to spend, The mightie martiall handes doe most commend : Of love they ever greater glory bore Then of their armes; Mars is Cupidoes freud. And is for Venus loves renowmed more Then all his wars and spoiles, the which he did of yore.' Therewith she sweetly smyld. They, though full bent To prove extremities of bloody fight. Yet at her speach their rages gan relent, And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight. Such powre have pleasing wordes : such is the might Of courteous clemency in gentle hart. Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight Besought that Damzell suffer hini depart. And yield him ready passage to that other part. XXXVII. She no lesse glad then he desirous was Of his departure thence : for of her joy And vaine delight she saw he light did pas, A foe of folly and immodest toy. Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy; Delighting all in armes and cruell warre, That her sweet peace and pleasures did annoy, Troubled with terrour and unquiet jarre. That she well pleased was thence to amove him farre. Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote Forthwith directed to that further strand ; The which on the dull waves did lightly flote. And soone arrived on the shallow sand , Where gladsome Guyon sailed forth to land, And to that Damsell thankes gave for re- ward. Upon that shore he spyed Atin stand. There by his maisterleft, when late he far'd In Phaedrias flitt barck over that perlous shard. XXXIX. Well could he him remember, sith of late He with Pyrochles sharp debatement made: 140 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Streight gan he him revyle, and bitter rate, As Shepheardes curre, that in darke even- inges shade Hath tracted forth some salvage beastes trade : ' Vile Miscreauut,' (said he) ' whither dost thou flye The shame and death, which will the soone invade? What coAvard hand shall doe thee next to (lye, That art thus fowly fledd from famous euimy ? ' XL. With that he stifly shooke his steelhead dart: But sober Guyon, hearing him so rayle, Though somewhat moved in his mightie hart, Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile. And passed fayrely forth. He, turning taile, Back to the strond i-etyrd, and there still stayd. Awaiting passage which him late did faile ; The whiles Cyraochles with that wanton mayd The hasty heat of his avowd revenge delayd. XLT. Why lest there the varlet stood, he saw from farre An armed knight that towardes him fast ran; He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre His forlorne steed from him the victour wan : He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, and wan ; And all his armour sprinckled was with blood, And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can Discerne the hew thereof. He never stood. But Dent his hastie course towardes the ydle flood. The varlett saw, when to the flood he came, How without stop or stay he fiersly lept. And deepe him selfe beducked in the same, That in the lake his loftie crest was stept, Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept ; But with his raging amies he rudely flasht The waves about, and all his armour swept. That all the blood and filth away was washt ; Yet still he bet the water, and the bil- lowes dasht. XLIII. Atin drew nigh to weet what it mote bee, For much he wondred at that uncouth sight : Whom should he but his owne deare Lord there see, His owne deare Lord Pyrochles in sad plight. Ready to drowne him selfe for fell de- spight : ' Harrow now out, and well away ! ' he cryde, ' What dismall day hath lent this cursed light. To see my Lord so deadly damnif yde ? Pyrochles, O Pyrochles! what is thee be- tyde ? ' XLIV. ' I burne, I burne, I burne ! ' then lowd he cryde, ' O ! how I burne with implacable fyre ; Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde, Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of myre : Nothing but death can doe me to respyre.' 'Ah! be it,' (said he) 'from Pyrochles farre After pursewing death once to requyre. Or think, that ought those puissant hands may marre : Death is for wretches borne under un- happy starre.' ' Perdye, then is it fitt for me,' (said he) ' That am, I weene, most wretched man alive ; Burning in flames, yet no flames can I see. And dying dayly, dayly yet revive. O Atin ! helpe to me last death to give.' The varlet at his plaint was grieved so sore, That his deepe wounded hart in two did rive ; And, his owne health remembring now no more, Did follow that ensample which he blam'd afore. XLVI. Into the lake he lept his Lord to ayd, (So Love the dread of daunger doth de- spise) And of him catching hold him strongly stayd From drowning. But more happy he then wise. i CANTO VI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 141 Of that seas nature did him not avise : The waves thereof so slow and sluggish were, Engrost with mud which did them fowle agrise, That every weighty thing they did up- beare, Ne ought mote ever sinck downe to the bottom there. XLVII. Whiles thus they strugled in that ydle wave, And strove in vaine, the one him selfe to drowne, The other both from drowning for to save, Lo! to that shore one in an auucieut gowne. Whose hoary locks great gravitie did crowne, Holding in hand a goodly arming sword, By fortune came, ledd with the troublous sowne : Where drenched deepe he fownd in that dull ford The carefull servaunt stryving with his raging Lord. XLVIII. Him Atin spying knew right well of yore, And lowdly cald ; * Help, helpe ! O Archi- To save my Lord in wretched plight for- lore; Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell sage: Weake handes, but counsell is most strong in age.' Him when the old man saw, he wondred sore To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage ; Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more Then pitty, he in hast approched to the shore, XLIX. And cald; 'Pyrochles! what is this I see? What hellish fury hath at earst thee hent? Furious ever I thee knew to bee. Yet never in this straunge astonish- ment.' ' These flames, these flames ' (he cryde) ' doe me torment.' ' Wha flames,' (quoth he), when I thee present see In daunger rather to be drent then brent ? ' ' Harrow! the flames which me consume,' (said hee) * Ne can be quencht, witliin my secret bowelles bee. L. * That cursed man, that cruel feend of hell, Furor, oh! Furor hath me thus bedight: His deadly woundes within my liver swell. And his whott fyre burnes in mine en- tralles bright, Kindled through his infernall brond of spight, Sith late with him I b£^ luill vaine would boste ; That now, I weene, Joves dreaded thunder light Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly roste.' Which when as Archimago heard, his griefe He knew right well, and him attonce dis- arm 'd ; Then searcht his secret woundes, and made a priefe Of every place that was with bruzing harmd. Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd. Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde. And evermore with mightie spek them charmd ; That in short space he has them qualifVde, And him restor'd to helth that would have algates dyde. 142 The faerie queene. [book II. CANTO VII. Guyon findes Mamon in a delve Sunning- his threasure hore ; Is by him tempted, and led downe To see his secrete store. As Pilot well expert in perilous wave, That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent, When foggy raistes or cloudy tempests have The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent, And cover'd heaven with hideous dreri- ment, Upon his card and compas firmes his eye, The maysters of his long experiment, And to them does the steddy helme apply. Bidding his winged vessell fairely for- ward fly: 11. So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde, Late left beyond that Ydle lake, pro- ceedes Yet on his way, of none accompanyde ; And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes. So, long he yode, yet no adventure found. Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes ; For still he traveild through wide wast- fuU ground, That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around. At last he came unto a gloomy glade, Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light. Whereas he sitting found in secret shade An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wiglit. Of griesly hew and fowle ill favour'd sight ; His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard, His head and beard with sout were ill bedight, His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have ben seard In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard. His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust, Was underneath enveloped with gold ; Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust, Well yet appeared to have beene of old A worke of rich entayle and curious mould, Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery ; And in his lap a masse of coynehe told, And turned upside downe, to feede his eye And covetous desire with his huge threasury. v. And round about him lay on every side Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ; Of which some were rude owre, not puri- fide Of Mulcibers devouring element ; Some others were new driven, and dis- tent Into great Ingowes and to wedges square ; Some in round plates withouten moni- ment ; But most were stampt, and in their metal bare The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare. Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright And haste he rose for to remove aside Those pretious hils from straungers envi- ous sight, And downe them poured through an hole full wide Into the hollow earth, them there to hide. But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd His hand that trembled as one terrifyde ; And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd. Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd: ^ VII. ' What art tlibu, man, (if man at all thou art) That here in desert hast thine habitaunce, And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce ? ' i CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 143 Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce, In great disdaine he auswerd : ' Hardy Elfe, That darest view my direfull counte- naunce, I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe, To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe. ' God of the world and worldlings I me call, Great Mammon, greatest god Irelow the skye, That of my plenty ponre out unto all, And unto none my graces do euvye : Riches, renowme, and principality, Honour, estate, and all this worldes good, For which men swinck and sweat inces- santly. Fro me do flow into an ample flood. And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood. ' Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew. At thy commaund lo ! all these mountaines bee: Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew. All these may not suffise, there shall to thee Ten times so much be nombred francke and free.' 'Mammon,' (said he) 'thy godheads vaunt is vaine. And idle offers of thy golden fee ; To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine. X. ' Me ill besits, that in der-doing armes And honours suit my vowed dales do spend , Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes. With which weake men thou witchest, to attend ; Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly blend, And low abase the high heroicke spright. That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend : Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight ; Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous kuight.' XI. ' Vaine glorious Elfe,' (saide he) * doest not thou weet, That money can thy wantes at will supply ? Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet, It can purvay in twinekling of an eye ; And crownes and kingdomes to thee mul- tiply. Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly. And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe. And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne ? ' XII. ' All otherwise ' (saide he) ' I riches read. And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse ; First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread. And after spent with pride and lavish- nesse. Leaving behind them griefe and heavi- nesse : Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize, Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitter- nesse. Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize. That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize. XIII. ' Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine ; But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound. And loyall truth to treason doest in- cline : Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground. The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround ; The sacred Diademe in peeees rent. And purple robe gored with many a wound , Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent : Somak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrong- full government. XIV. ' Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse The private state, and make the life un- sweet : Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse, And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet, Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet.' Then Mammon wexing wroth ; * And why then,' sayd, ' Are mortall men so fond and undiscreet So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd, And having notcomplaine, and having it upbrayd ? ' 144 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. ' ludeede,' (quoth he) ' throv;gh fowle intemperauiK'e, Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise ; But would they thinke with how small allowaunce Untroubled Nature doth her selfe suffise, Such superfluities they would despise, Which with sad cares empeach our native joyes. At the well-head the purest streames arise ; But mucky filth his braunching amies annoyes, And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes. ' The antique world, in his first flowring youth, Fownd no defect in his Creators grace ; But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth, The guifts of soveraine bounty did em- brace : Like Angels life was then mens happy cace; But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed, Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace To all licentious lust, and gan exceed The measure of her meane and naturall first need. XVII. ' Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe Of his great Grandmother with Steele to wound. And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd, Of which the matter of his huge desire And pompous pride eftsoones he did com- pownd ; Then avarice gan through his veines in- spire His greedy flames, and kindled life- devouring fire.' 'Sonne,' (said he then) *lett be thy bitter scorne, And leave the rudenesse of that antique age To them that liv'd therin in state forlorne : Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage. If then thee list my offred grace to use, Take what thou please of all this sur- plusage ; If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse : But thing refused doe not afterward accuse.' XIX. ' Me list not ' (said the Elfin knight) ' receave Thing offred, till I know it well be gott; Ne wote I but thou didst these goods be- reave From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott, Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott.' ' Perdy,' (quoth he) ' yet never eie did vew, Ne tong did tell , ue hand these handled not ; But safe I have them kept in secret mew From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.' * What secret place ' (quoth he) ' can safely hold So huge a masse, and hide from heavens eie? Or where hast thou thy wonue, that so much gold Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery ? ' ' Come thou,' (quoth he) ' and see.' So by and by Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd A darkesome way, which no man could descry, That deep aescended through the hollow grownd, And was with dread and horror compassed arownd. At length they came into a larger space, That stretcht itselfe into an ample playue ; Through which a beaten broad high way did trace, That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne. By that wayes side there sate internall Payne, And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife : The one in hand an yron whip did strayne. The other brandished a bloody knife ; And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life. XXII. On tbother side in one consort there sate Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight, Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate ; But gnawing Gealosy, out of their sight Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight ; And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly, CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 145 And found no place wher safe he shroud him might: Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye, And shame his ugly face did hide from living eye. XXIII. And over them sad horror with grim hew Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings ; And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew, The hatefull messengers of heavy things, Of death and dolor telling sad tidings ; Whiles sad Celeuo, sitting on a clifte, A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings, That hart of flint asonder could have rifte ; Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte. XXIV. All these before the gates of Pluto lay. By whom they passing spake unto them nought ; But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought. At last him to a litle dore he brought, That to the gate of Hell , which gaped wide, Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought : Betwixt them both was but a litle stride. That did the house of Richesse from hell- mouth divide. XXV. Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care, Day and night keeping wary watch and ward, For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard : Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither- ward Approch, albe his drowsy den were next ; For next to death is Sleepe to be compard ; Therefore his house is unto his annext : Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext. XXVI. So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore To him did open and affoorded way : Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore, Ne darkenesse him, ne daunger might dismay. Soone as he eutred was, the dore streight way Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day, The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept, And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept. XXVII. Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest. If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye, Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best, Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye. Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye He over him did hold his cruell clawes, Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye, And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes. If ever he transgrest the fatall Stygian lawes. XXVIII. That houses forme within was rude and strong, Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte. From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong Embost with massy gold of glorious guifte. And with rich metall loaded every rifte, That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt ; And over them Arachne high did lifte Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett. Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black then Jett. XXIX. Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold, But overgrowne with dust and old decay, And hid in darkenes, that none could behold The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day Did never in that house it selfe display, But a faint shadow of uncertein light: Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away. Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night, Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright. 146 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. In all that rowme was nothing to be seene But huge great yrou chests, and coffers strong, All bard with double bends, that none could weene Them to eff orce by violence or wrong : On every side they placed were along ; But all the grownd with sculs was scat- tered, And dead mens bones, which round about were flong ; Whose lives, it seemed, whilome there were shed, And their vile carcases now left unburied. They forward passe; ne Guyon yet spoke word. Till that they came unto an yron dore. Which to them opened of his owTie accord, And shewd of richesse such exceeding store, As eie of man did never see before, Ne ever could within one place be fownd, Though all the wealth which is, or was of yore. Could gathered be through all the vvorld arownd , And that above were added to that under grownd. XXXII. The charge thereof unto a covetous Spright Commaunded was, who thereby did at- tend, And warily awaited day and night. From other covetous feends it to defend. Who it to rob and ransacke did intend. Then Mammon, turning to that warriour, said; * Loe ! here the worldes blis : loe ! here the end, To which al men doe ayme, rich to be made: Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid.' XXXIII. 'Certes,' (sayd he) * I n'ill thine offred grace, Ne to be made so happy doe intend : Another blis before mine eyes I place, Another happines, another end. To them that list these base regardes I lend ; But I in armes, and in atchievements brave, Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend, And to be Lord of those that riches have. Then them to have my selfe, and be their servile sclave.' Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate. And griev'd so long to lacke his greedie pray ; For well he weened that so glorious bayte Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay ; Had he so doen, he had him snatcht away, More light then Culver in the Faulcons fist. Eternall God thee save from such decay ! But, whenas Mammon saw his purpose mist. Him to entrap unwares another way he wist. XXXV. Thence forward he him ledd, and shortly brought Unto another rowrae, whose dore forth- right To him did open, as it had beene taught. Therein an hundred rauuges weren pight. And hundred fournaces all burning bright : By every fournace many feendes did byde, Deformed creatures, horrible in sight ; And every feend his busie j)aines applyde To melt the golden metall, ready to be tryde. XXXVI. One with great bellowes gathered fill- ing ay re. And with forst wind the fewell did inflame ; Another did the dying bronds repayre AVith yron tongs, and sprinckled ofte the same With liquid waves, fiers Vulcans rage to tame. Who, maystring them, renewd his former heat : Some scumd the drosse that from the metall came ; Some stird the molten owre with ladles great ; And every one did swincke, and every one did sweat. XXXVII. But, when an earthly wight they pres- ent saw Glistring in armes and battailous aray, From their whot work they did them- selves withdraw To wonder at the sight ; for till that day CANTO VII. J THE FAERIE QUEENE. 147 They never creature saw that cam that way: Their staring eyes sparckling with fer- vent lyre And ugly shapes did nigh the man dis- may, That, were it not for shame, he w'ould retyre ; Till that him thus bespake their soveraine Lord and syre ; 'Behold, thou Faeries sonne, with mor- tall eye, That living eye before did never see. The thing, that thou didst crave so ear- nestly. To weet whence all the wealth late shewd by mee Proceeded, lo! now is reveald to thee. Here is the fountaine of the worldes good : Now, therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee, Avise thee well, and chaunge thy wilfull mood, Least thou perhaps hereafter wish, and be withstood.' xxxrx. ' Suffise it then, thou Money God,' (quoth hee) ' That all thhie ydle offers I refuse. All that I need I have : what ueedeth mee To covet more then I have cause to use ? AVith such value shewes thy worldlinges vyle abuse; But give me leave to follow mine emprise.' Mammon was much displeasd, yet no'te he chuse But beare the rigour of his bold mesprise ; And thence him forward ledd him further to entise. XL. He brought him, through a darksom narrow strayt. To a broad gate all built of beaten gold : The gate was open ; but therein did wayt A sturdie villein, stryding stiffe and bold, As if the highest God defy he would : In his right hand an yron club he held, But he himself e was all of golden mould, Yet had both life and sence, and well could weld That cursed weapon, when his cruell foes he queld. XLI. Disdayne he called was, and did dis- dayne To be so cald, and who so did him call : Sterne was his looke, and full of stomacke vayne ; His portaunce terrible, and stature tall, Far passing th' hight of men terrestrial!, Like an huge Gyant of the Titans race ; That made him scorne all creatures great and small, And with his pride all others powre de- face: More fitt emongst black fiendes then men to have his place. Soone as those glitterand armes he did espye. That with their brightnesse made that darknes light. His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye, And threaten batteill to the Faery knight ; Wholikewiseganhimselfetobatteilldight, Till Mammon did his hasty hand withhold. And counseld him abstaine from perilous fight; For nothing might abash the villein bold, Ne mortall Steele emperce his miscreated mould. XLIII. So having him with reason pacifyde, And that fiers Carle commaunding to for- ..beare, He brought him in. The rowme was large and wyde. As it some Gyeld or solemne Temple weare. Many great golden pillours did upbeare The massy roofe, and riches huge sus- tayne ; And every pillour decked was full deare With crownes, and Diademes, and titles value, Which mortall Princes wore whiles they on earth did rayne. • XLIV. A route of people there assembled were, Of every sort and nation under skye, AVhich with great uprore preaced to draw nere To th' upper part, where was advaunced hye A stately siege of soveraine majestye ; And thereon satt a woman, gorgeous gay And richly cladd in robes of royaltye, That never earthly Prince in such aray His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pryde display. Her face right wondrous faire did seeme to bee. That her broad beauties beam great brightues threw 148 THE FAERIE QUEEN E. [book II. Through the dim shade, that all men might it see: Yet was not that same her owne native hew, But wrought by art and counterfetted shew, Thereby more lovers unto her to call : Nath'lesse most hevenly faire in deed and vew She by creation was, till she did fall ; Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloke her crime withall. XLVI. There, as in glistring glory she did sitt, She held a great gold chaine ylincked well, Whose upper end to highest heven was knitt, And lower part did reach to lowest Hell ; And all that preace did rownd about her swell To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby To climbe aloft, and others to excell : That was Ambition, rash desire to sty. And every linck thereof a step of dignity. Some thought to raise themselves to high degree By riches and unrighteous reward ; Some by close shouldring ; some by flat- teree ; Others through friendes ; others for base regard, And all by wrong waies for themselves prepard : Those that were up themselves kept others low; Those that were low themselves held others hard, Ne suffred them to ryse or greater grow ; But every one did strive his fellow downe to throw. XLVIII. Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan in- quire. What meant that preace about that Ladies throne, And what she was that did so high aspyre ? Him Mammon answered ; ' That goodly one, Whom all that folke with such contention Doe flock about, my deare, my daughter is: Honour and dignitie from her alone Derived are, and all this worldes blis. For which ye men doe strive; few gett, but many mis : ' And fay re Philotime she rightly hight, The fairest wight that wonneth under skie. But that this darksom neather world her _ light Doth dim with horror and deformity; Worthie of heveu and hye felicitie. From whence the gods have her for envy thrust : But, sith thou hast found favour in mine eye, Thy spouse I will her make, if that thou lust. That she may thee advance for works and merits just.' ' Gramercy, Mammon,' (said the gentle knight) ' For so great grace and off red high es- state ; But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly wight, Unworthy match for such immortallmate My selfe well wote, and mine unequall fate: And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight. And love avowd to other Lady late, That to remove the same I have no might : To chaunge love causelesse is reproch to warlike knight.' LI. Mammon emmoved was with inward wrath ; Yet, forcing it to fayne, him forth thence ledd, Through griesly shadowes by a beaten path, Into a gardin goodly garnished With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be redd : Not such as earth out of her fruitfuU woomb Throwes forth to men, sweet and well savored, But direfull deadly black, both leafe and bloom, Fitt to adorne the dead, and deck the drery toombe. There mournfull Cypresse grew in greatest store. And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben sad; Dead sleeping Poppy, and black Helle- bore; Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad ; Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad, CANTO VII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 149 With which th' unjust Atheuiens made to Wise Socrates ; who, thereof quaffing glad, Pourd out his life and last Philosophy To the fayre Critias, his dearest Belamy! The Gardin of Proserpina this higiit ; And in the midst thereof a silver seat, Wifli a thick Arber goodly over-dight. In which she often usd from open heat Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to en- treat : Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree, With brauuches broad dispredd and body great, Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote see. And loaden all with fruit as thick as it might bee. LIV. Their fruit were golden apples glistring bright, That goodly was their glory to behold ; On earth like never grew, ne living wight Like ever saw, but they from hence were sold; For those which Hercules, with conquest bold Got from great Atlas daughters, hence began , And planted there did bring forth fruit of gold ; And those with which th' Euboean young man wan Swift Atalanta, when through craft he her out ran. LV. Here also sprong that goodly golden fruit, With which Acontius got his lover trew, Whom he had long time sought with fruit- lesse suit : Here eke that famous golden Apple grew, The which emongst the gods false Ate threw ; For which th' Idfean Ladies disagreed, Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew. And had of her fayre Helen for his meed. That many noble Greekes and Trojans made to bleed. The warlike Elfe much wondred at this tree, So fayre and great that shadowed all the ground, And his broad braunches, laden ^i ith r-ch fee, Did stretch themselves without the utmost bound Of this great gardin, compast with a mound ; Which over-hanging, they themselves did steepe In a blacke flood, which flow'd about it round. That is the river of Cocytus deepe. In which full many soules do endlesse wayle and weepe. LVII Which to behold he clomb up to the bancke, And looking downe saw many damned wightes In those sad waves, which direfull deadly stancke, Plonged continually of cruell Sprightes, That with their piteous cryes, and yelling shrightes, They made the further shore resounden wide. Emongst the rest of those same ruefull sightes, One cursed creature he by chaunce espide. That drenched lay full deepe under the Garden side. Deepe was he drenched to the upmost chin. Yet gaped still as coveting to drinke Of the cold liquor which he waded in ; And stretching forth his hand did often thiuke To reach the fruit which grew upon the brincke ; But both the fruit from hand, and flood from mouth, Did fly abacke, and made him vainely swincke ; The whiles he sterv'd with hunger, and with drouth. He daily dyde, yet never throughly dyen coutii. LIX. The knight, him seeing labour so in vaine, Askt who he was, and what he ment thereby ? Who, groning deepe, thus answerd hira againe ; ' Most cursed of all creatures under skye, Lo! Tantalus, I here tormented lye: Of whom high Jove wont whylome feasted j Lo ! here T now for want of food doe dye : I But, if that thou be such as 1 thee see, I50 THE FAERIE QUEEXE. [book II. Of grace I pray thee, give to eat and drinke to meel ' *Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus,' (quoth he) ' Abide the fortune of thy present fate ; And unto all that live in high degree, Ensample be of mind intemperate, To teach them how to use their present state.' Then gan the cursed wretch alowd to cry. Accusing highest Jove and gods ingrate ; And eke blaspheming heaven bitterly. As author of unjustice, there to let him dye. LXI. He lookt a litle further, and espyde Another wretch, whose carcas deepe was drent Within the river, which the same did hyde ; But both his handes, most filthy feculent. Above the water were on high extent, And faynd to wash themselves incessantly. Yet nothing cleaner were for such in- tent, But rather fowler seemed to tlie eye ; So lost his labour value and ydle industry. LXII. The knight him calling asked who he was? Who, lifting up nis head, him answerd thus ; 'I Pilate am, the falsest Judge, alas! And most unjust; that, by unrighteous And wicked doome, to Jewes despiteous Delivered up the Lord of life to dye. And did acquite a murdrer felonous; The whiles my handes I washt in purity, The whiles ray soule was soyld with fowle iniquity.' LXIII. Infinite moe tormented in like paine He there beheld, too long here to be told : Ne Mammon would there let him long remayne. For terrour of the tortures manifold, In which the damned soules he did be- hold, But roughly him bespake : ' Thou feare- full foole. Why takest not of that same fruite of gold ? Ne sittest downe on that same silver stoole. To rest thy weary person in the shadow coole ? ' LXIV. All which he did to do him deadly fall In frayle intemperaunce through sinful! bayt ; To which if he inclyned had at all. That dreadfull feend, which did behinde him wayt, Would him have rent in thousand peeces strayt : But he was wary wise in all his way. And well perceived his deeeiptfuU sleight, Ne suffred lust his safety to betray. So goodly did beguile the Guyler of his pray. LXV. And now he has so long remained theare, That vitall powres gan wexe both weake and wan For want of food and sleepe, which two upbeare. Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of man, That none without the same endurencan : For now three dayes of men were full out wrought. Since he this hardy enterprize began : Forthy great Mammon fayrely he be- sought Into the world to guyde him backe, as he him brought. LXVI. The God, though loth, yet was con- straynd t' obay ; For lenger time then that no living wight Below the earth might suffred be to stay: So backe againe him brought to living light. But all so soone as his enfeebled spright Gan sucke this vitall ayre into his brest. As overcome with too exceeding might. The life did flit away out of her nest, And all his sences were with deadly fit opprest. CANTO VIII.] THE A,ERIE QJE^E. ^t ANTo vm. Sir Guyon, layd in swowne, is oy Aerates sonnes despoyld ; Whom Arthure soone h'ath reskewed, And Pa^^uim brethren foyld. I. And is there care in heaven ? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace, That may compassion of their evilles move ? There is : else much more wretched were the cace Of men then beasts. But O ! th' exceed- ing grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his workes with mercy doth em- brace, That blessed Angels he sends to and fro. To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe. II. How oft do they their silver bowers leave. To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with golden piueons cleave The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuivant. Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant ! They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward, And their bright Squadrons round about us plant ; And all for love, and nothing for reward. O ! why should hevenly God to men have such regard ? iir. During the while that Guyon did abide In Mamons house, the Palmer, whom why- leare That wanton Mayd of passage had denide. By further search had passage found else- where ; And, being on his way, approched neare Where Guyon lay in traunce ; when sud- deinly He heard a voyce that called lowd and cleare, 'Come hither! hither! O, come hastily! ' That all the fields resounded with' the ruefull cry. IV. The Palmer lent his eare unto the noyce. To weet who called so importunely : Againe he heard a naore efforced voyce, That bad him come in haste. He by and by His feeble feet directed to the cry ; Which to that shady delve him brought at last, Where Mammon earst did sunne his threasury ; There the good Guyon he found slumbring fast In senceles dreame; which sight at first him soi-e aghast. V. Beside his head there satt a faire young man, Of wondrous beauty and of freshest yeares, Whose tender bud to blossome new began, And florish faire above his equall peares : His snowy front, curled with golden heares, r.ike Phoebus face adornd with sunny rayes. Divinely shone; and two sharpe winged sheares, Decked with diverse pin les, like painted Jayes, Were fixed at his backe to cut his ayery wayes. VI. Like as Cupido on Idaean hill, When having laid his cruell bow away And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth fill The world with murdrous spoiles and bloody pray, With his faire mother he him dights to play. And with his goodly sisters, Graces three : The Goddesse, pleased with his wanton play, Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to bee, The whiles the other Ladies mind theyr mery glee. VII. Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he was Through fear and wonder that he nought could say. Till him the childe bespoke ; ' Long lackt, alas! Hath bene thy faithf ull aide in hard assay, 152 THE FAERIE QUEEN E. [book II. Whiles deadly fitt thy pupill doth dismay. Behold this heavy sight, thou reverend Sire! But dread of death and dolor doe away ; For life ere long shall to her home retire, And he that breathlesse seems shal corage both respire. 'The charge, which God doth unto me arrett, Of his deare safety, I to thee commend ; Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forgett The care thereof my selfe unto the end. But evermore him succour, and defend Against his foe and mine : watch thou, I pray; For evill is at hand him to offend.' So having said, eftsooues he gan display His painted nimble wings, and vanisht quite away. IX. The Palmer seeing his lefte empty place. And his slow eies beguiled of their sight, Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a space Gaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight. At last, him turning to his charge behight, With trembling hand his troubled pulse gan try ; Where finding life not yet dislodged quight. He much rejoyst, and courd it tenderly. As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded destiny. X. At last he spide where towards him did pace Two Paynim knights al armd as bright as skie. And them beside an aged Sire did trace. And far before a light- foote Page did flie, Ihat breathed strife and troublous enmi- tie. Those were the two sonnes of Aerates old. Who, meeting earst with Archimago slie Foreby that idle strond, of him were told That he which earst them combatted was Guyon bold XI. Which to avenge on him they dearly vowd, Where ever that on ground they mote him find: False Archimage provokte their corage pro wd , And stryful Atin in their stubborne mind Coles of contention and whot vengeaunce tind. Now bene they come whereas the Palmer sate. Keeping that slombred corse to him as- sind: Well knew they both his person, sith of late With him in bloody armes they rashly did debate. XII. Whom when Pyrochles saw, in flam 'd with rage That sire he fowl bespake : ' Thou dotard vile. That with thy brutenesse shendst thy comely age, Abandon soone, I read, the caytive spoile Of that same outcast carcas, that ere- while Made it selfe famous through false trechery, And crownd his coward crest with knightly stile ; Loe! where he now inglorious doth lye. To proove he lived il that did thus fowly dye.' XIII. To whom the Palmer fearlesse an- swered : ' Certes, Sir Knight, ye bene too much to biame, Thus for to blott the honor of the dead. And with fowle cowardize his carcas shame. Whose living handes immortalizd his name. Vile is the vengeaunce on the ashes cold. And envy base to barke at sleeping fame. Was never wight that treason of him told: Your self his prowesse prov'd, and found him tiers and bold.' Then sayd Cymochles : ' Palmer, thou doest dote, Ne canst of prowesse ne of knighthood deeme, Save as thou seest or hearst. But well I wote. That of his puissaunce tryall made ex- treeme : Yet gold al is not that doth golden seeme ; Ne all good knights that shake well speare and shield. The worth of all men by their end es- teeme. And then dew praise or dew reproch them yield ; Bad therefore I him deerae that thus lies dead on field.' CANTO VIII,] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 153 'Good or bad,' gan his brother fiers reply, 'What doe I recke, sith that he dide entire ? Or what doth his bad death now satisfy The greedy hunger of revenging yre, Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her owne desire ? Yet since no way is lefte to wreake my spight, I will him reave of armes, the victors hire, And of that shield, more worthy of good knight ; For why should a dead dog be deckt in armour bright ? ' xvir ' Fayr Sir,' said then the Palmer suppli- auut, ' For knighthoods love doe not so fowle a deed, Ne blame your honor with so shamefull vaunt Of vile revenge. To spoile the dead of weed Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed : But leave these relicks of his living might To decke his herce, and trap his tomb- blacke steed.' ' What herce or steed ' (said he) ' should he have dight, But be entombed in the raven or the kight ? ' XVII. With that, rude hand upon his shield he laid, And th' other brother gan his helme un- lace, Both fiercely bent to have him disaraid ; Till that they spyde where towards them did pace An armed knight, of bold and bounteous grace, AVhose squire bore after him an heben launce And coverd shield. Well kend him so far space Th' enchaunter by his armes and ame- naunce. When under him he saw his Lybian steed to praunce ; And to those brethren sayd ; ' Rise, rise bylive, And unto batteil doe your selves addresse ; For yonder conies the prowest knight alive, Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and nobilesse, That hath to Paynim knights wrought gret distresse, And thousand Sar'zinsfowlydounetodye.' That word so deepe did in their harts impresse. That both eftsoones upstarted furiously, And gan themselves prepare to batteill greedily. XIX. But fiers Pyrochles, lacking his owne sword. The want thereof now greatly gan to plaine. And Archimage besought, him that afford Which he had brought for Braggadochio value. ' So would I,' (said th' enchaunter) ' glad and faine Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend. Or ought that els your honour might maintaine ; But that this weapons powre I well have kend To be contrary to the worke which ye intend : XX. ' For that same knights owne sword this is, of yore W^hich Merlin made by his almightie art For that his noursling, when he knight- hood swore, Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart, The metall first he mixt with Medaewart, That no enchauntment from his dint might save ; Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart. And seven times dipped in the bitter wave Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it gave. XXI. 'The vertue is, that nether Steele ncir stone ' The stroke thereof from entraunce may defend ; Ne ever may be used by his fone, Ne forst his rightful owner to offend ; Ne ever will it breake, ne ever bend : Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight. In value therefore, Pyrochles, should I lend The same to thee, against his lord to fight; For sure yt would deceive thy labor and thy might.' XXII. 'Foolish old man,' said then the Pagan wroth, 154 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II, ' That weenest words or chai*ms may force withstond : Soone Shalt thou see, and then beleeve for troth, That I can carve with this inchauuted brond His Lords owne flesh.' Tlierewith out of his hond That vertuous Steele he rudely suatcht away, And Guyons shield about his wrest he bond: So ready dight fierce battaile to assay. And match his brother proud in battail- ous aray. XXIII. By this, that straunger knight in pres- ence came. And goodly salued them ; who nought againe Him answered, as courtesie became ; But with Sterne lookes, and stomachous disdaine, Gave sigues of grudge and discontentment vaine. Then, turning to the Palmer, he gan spy Where at his feet, with sorrowf nil demayne And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye. In whose dead face he redd great mag- nanimity. XXIV. Sayd he then to the Palmer : ' Reverend Syre, What great misfortune hath betidd this knight ? Or did his life her fatall date expyre, Or did he fall by treason, or by light? How ever, sure I rew his pitteous plight.' * Not one, nor other,' sayd the Palmer grave, ' Hath him befalne ; but cloudes of deadly night A while his heavy eylids cover'd have, And all his sences drowned in deep sence- lesse wave : XXV. ' Which those his cruell foes, that stand hereby. Making advauntage, to revenge their spight, Would him disarme and treaten shame- fully ; Unworthie usage of redoubted knight. But you, faire Sir, whose honourable sight Doth promise hope of helpe and timely grace. Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight. And by your powre protect his feeble cace? First prayse of knighthood is fowle out- rage to deface.' XXVI. ' Palmer,' (said he) ' no knight so rude, I weene. As to doeu outrage to a sleeping ghost ; Ne was there ever noble corage seene, That in advauntage would his puissaunce host: Honour is least where oddes appeareth most. May bee, that better reason will aswage The rash revengers heat. Words, well dispost, Have secrete powre t' appease inflamed rage : If not, leave unto me thy knights last patronage.' XXVII. Tho, turning to those brethren, thus bespoke : ' Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great might, It seemes, just wrouges to vengeaunce doe provoke. To wreake your wrath on this dead seem- ing knight, Mote ought allay the storme of your despight, And settle patience in so furious heat? Not to debate the chalenge of your right, But for his carkas pardon I entreat. Whom fortune hath already laid in lowest seat.' XXVIII. To whom Cymochles said ; ' For what art thou, That mak'st thy selfe his dayes-man, to prolong The vengeaunce prest ? Or who shall let me now On this vile body from to wreak my wrong. And made his carkas as the outcast dong ? Why should not that dead carrion satisfye The guilt which, if he lived had thus long. His life for dew revenge should dears abye ? The trespass still doth live, albee the person dye.' XXIX. ' Indeed ,' then said the Prince, ' the evill donne Dyes not, when breath the body first doth leave ; But from the grandsyre to the Nephewes Sonne, And all his seede the curse doth often cleave, CANTO VIII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 155 Till vengeaunce utterly the guilt bereave : So streigiitly God doth judge. But gentle Knight, That doth against the dead his hand upheave, His honour staines with rancour and despight, And great disparagment makes to his former might.' Pyrochles gan reply the second tyme, And to him said : ' Now, felon, sure I read, How that thou art partaker of his cryme : Therefore, by Termagaunt thou shalt be dead.' With that his hand, more sad then lomp of lead, Uplifting high, he weened with Morddure, His owne good sword Morddure, to cleave his head. The faithfull Steele such treason no'uld endure, But, swarving from the marke, his Lordes life did assure. Yet was the force so furious and so fell, That horse and man it made to reele asyde : Nath'lesse the Prince would not forsake his sell. For well of yore he learned had to ryde. But full of auger fiersly to him cryde ; ' False traitour! miscreaunt! thou broken hast The law of armes to strike foe undefide : But thou thy treasons fruit, I hope, shalt taste Right sowre, and feele the law the which thou hast defast.' With that his balefull speare he fiercely bent Against the Pagans brest, and therewith thought His cursed life out of her lodge have rent; But ere the point arrived where it ought, That seven fold shield, which he from Guyon brought. He cast between to ward the bitter stownd : Through all those foldes the steelehead passage wrought. And through his shoulder perst; wher- with to ground He groveling fell, all gored in his gushing wound. Which when his brother saw, fraught with great griefe And wrath, he to him leaped furiously. And fowly saide : ' By Mahoune, cursed thiefe. That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt aby:' Then, hurling up his harmefull blade on by. Smote him so hugely on his haughtie crest. That from his saddle forced him to fly ; Els mote it needes downe to his manly brest Have cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dispossest. XXXIV. Now was the Prince in daungerous dis- tresse. Wanting his sword when he on foot should fight: His single speare could doe him small redresse Against two foes of so exceeding might, The least of which was match for any knight. And now the other, whom he earst did daunt. Had reard him selfe againe to cruel fight Three times more furious and more puissaunt, Unmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignorauut. XXXV. So both attonce him charge on either syde With hideous strokes and importable powre. That forced him his ground to traverse wyde. And wisely watch to ward that deadly stowre ; For in his shield, as thicke as stormie showre. Their strokes did raine : yet did he never quaile, Ne backward shrinke, but as a stedfast towre, Whom foe with double battry doth assaile. Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids them nought availe. XXXVI. So stoutly he withstood their strong as- say; Till that at last, when he advantage spyde, His poynant speare he thrust with puis- sant sway 156 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. At proud Cymochles, whiles his shield was wyde, That through his thigh the mortall Steele did gryde : He, swarving with the force, within his flesh Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde. Out of the wound the red blood flowed fresh, That underneath his feet soone made a purple plesh. XXXVII. Horribly then he gan to rage and rayle, Cursing his Gods, and him selfe damning deepe : Als w^hen his brother saw the red blood rayle Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe, For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe, And said; ' Caytive, curse on thy cruell bond, That twise hath spedd ; yet shall it not thee keepe From the third brunt of this my fatall brond : Lo ! where the dreadfull Death behynd thy backe doth stond.' XXXVIII. With that he strooke, and thother strooke withall. That nothing seemd mote beare so mon- strous might : The one upon his covered shield did fall, And glaunciug downe would not his owner byte; But thother did upon his troncheon smyte, Which hewing quite asunder, further way It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte, The which dividing with importune sway, It seizd in his right side, and there the dint did stay. XXXIX. Wyde was the wound, and a large luke- warme flood, Rod as the Rose, thence gushed grievously ; That when the Paynym spyde the stream- ing blood. Gave him great hart and hope of vic- tory. On th' other side, in huge perplexity The Prince now stood, having his weapon broke ; Nought could he hurt, but still at warde did ly : Yet with his troncheon he so rudely stroke Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his foot revoke. Whom when the Palmer saw in such dis- tresse. Sir Guyon's sword he lightly to him raught, And said ; ' Fayre Sonne, great God thy right hand blesse. To use that sword so well as he it ought ! ' Glad was the knight, and with fresh cour- age fraught. When as againe he armed felt his bond : Then like a Lyon, which hath long time saught His robbed whelpes, and at the last them fond Emongst the shepeheard swaynes, then wexeth wood and yond : So fierce he laid about him, and dealt blowes On either side, that neither mayle could hold, Ne shield defend the thunder of his throwes : Now to Pyrochles many strokes he told ; Eft to Cymochles twise so many fold ; Tben, backe againe turning his busie bond. Them both atonce compeld with courage bold To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling brond ; And though they both stood stiff e, yet could not both withstond. As salvage Bull, whom two fierce mas- tives bayt. When rancour doth with rage him once engore, Forgets with wary warde them to awayt, But with his dreadfull homes them drives afore, Or flings aloft, or treades downe in the flore. Breathing out wrath, and bellowing dis- daine. That all the forest quakes to heare him rore : So rag'd Prince Arthur twixt his foemen twaine, That neither could his mightie puissaunce sustaine. XLIII. But ever at Pyi-ochles when he smitt, (Who Guy on s shield cast ever him before, Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was writt,) His hand relented and the stroke forbore, And his deare hart the picture gan adore ; CANTO VIII. J THE FAERIE QUEENE. 157 Which oft the Paynim sav'd from deadly stowre : But him heuceforth the same can save uo more ; For now arrived is his fatall howre, That no'te avoyded be by earthly skill or powre. XLIV. For when Cymochles saw the fowle re- proch, Which them appeached, prickt with guiltie shame And inward griefe, he fiercely gan ap- proch, Resolv'd to put away that loathly blame, Or dye with honour and desert of fame ; And on the haubergli stroke the Prince so sore, That quite disparted all the linked frame, And pierced to the skin, but bit no more ; Yet m:vde him twise to reele, that never moov'd afore. Whereat renfierst with wrath and sharp regret, He stroke so hugely with his borrowd blade, That it empierst the Pagans burganet : And, cleaving the hard Steele, did deepe invade Into his head, and cruell passage made Quite through his brayne. He, tombling downe on ground, Breathd out his ghost, which, to th' in- fernall shade Fast flying, there eternall torment found For all the sinues wherewith his lewd life did aboimd. Which when his german saw, the stony feare Ran to his hart, and all his sence dismayd, Ne thenceforth life ne corage did appeare ; But as a man whom hellish feendes have frayd, Long trembling, still he stoode: at last thus sayd ; ' Traytour, what hast thou doen ? How ever may Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayd Against that knight ! Harrow and well away ! After so wicked deede why liv'st thou lenger day ? ' With that all desperate, as loathing light. And with revenge desyring soone to dye, Assembling all his force and utmost might. With his owne swerd he fierce at him did rtye. And strooke, and foynd, and lasht out- rageously, Withouten reason or regard. Well kneAv The Prince, with pacience and sufferauuce sly So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew: Tho, when this breathlesse woxe, that bat- teil gan renew. XLVIII. As when a windy tempest bloweth hye. That nothing may withstand his stormy stowre. The clowdes, as thinges affrayd, before him flye ; But all so soone as his outrageous powre Is layd, they fiercely then begin to showre ; And, as in scorne of his spent stormy spight. Now all attonce their malice forth do poure : So did Prince Arthur beare himselfe in fight. And suffred rash Pyrochles waste his ydle might. XLIX. At last, when as the Sarazin perceiv'd How that straunge sword refusd to serve his neede, But when he stroke most strong the dint deceiv'd, Heflongit fromhim ; and,devoyd of dreed. Upon him lightly leaping without heed Twixt his two mighty armes engrasped fast. Thinking to overthrowe and downe him tred : But him in strength and skill the Prince surpast, And through his nimble sleight did under him down cast. Nought booted it the Paynim then to strive ; For as a Bittur in the Eagles clawe, That may not hope by flight to scape alive. Still waytes for death with dread and trem- bling aw ; So be, now subject to the victours law, Did not once move, nor upward cast his eye, For vile disdaine and rancour, which did gnaw His hart in twaine with sad melancholy ; 158 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. As one that loathed life, and yet despysd to dye. LI. But full of princely bounty and great mind, The conquerour nought cared him to slay; But casting wronges and all revenge be- hind. More glory thought to give life then decay, And sayd; ' Payuim, this is thy dismall day; Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce, And my trew liegeman yield thy selfe for ay, Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce, And all thy wronges will wipe out of my sovenaunce.' LII. * Foole ! ' (sayd the Pagan) ' I thy gift defye, But use thy fortune as it doth befall ; And say, that I not overcome doe dye. But in despight of life for death doe call.' Wroth was the Prince, andsory yetwithall. That he so wilfully refused grace ; Yet sith his fate so cruelly did fall. His shining Helmet he gan soone unlace, And left his headlesse body bleeding all the place. LIII. By this Sir Guyon from his traunce awakt. Life having maystered her sencelesse foe. And looking up, whenas his shield he lakt And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous woe ; But when the Palmer, whom he long ygoe Had lost, he by him spyde, right glad he grew, And saide ; ' Deare sir, whom wandring to and fro I long have lackt, I joy thy face to vew: Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never fro me drew. 'But read, what wicked hand hath robbed mee Of my good sword and shield ? ' The Palmer, glad With so fresh hew uprysing him to see. Him answered : ' Fay re sonne, be no whit sad For want of weapons ; they shall soone be had.' So gan he to discourse the whole debate. Which that straunge knight for him sus- tained had, And those two Sarazins confounded late. Whose carcases on ground were horribly prostrate. LV. Which when he heard, and saw the tokens trew. His hart with great affection was em- bayd, And to the Prince, bowing with reverence dew As to the patrone of his life, thus sayd ; ' My Lord, my liege, by whose most gra- tious ayd I live this day, and see my foes subdewd. What may suffice to be for meede repayd Of so great graces as ye have me shewd, But to be ever bound ' To whom the Infant thus ; ' Fayre Sir, what need Good turnes be coimted as a servile bond To bind their dooers to receive their meed? Are not all knightes by oath bound to withstond Oppressours powre by armes and puissant bond? Suffise that I have done my dew in place.' So goodly purpose they together fond Of kindnesse and of courteous aggrace ; The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled apace. CANTO IX. The house of Temperance, in which Doth sober Alma dwell, Besiegd of many foes, whom straung- er knightes to flight compell. Of all Gods workes which doe this worlde adorne, There is no one more faire and excellent Then is mans body, both for powre and -^^ forme. Whiles it is kept in sober government; But none then it more fowle and indecent, CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 159 Distemi^red through misrule and passions bace: It growes a Monster, and incontinent Doth loose his dignity and native grace : Behold, who list, both one and other in this place. II. After the Paynim brethren couquer'd were. The Briton Prince recov'ring his stohie sword. And Guy on his lost shield, they both yfere Forth passed on their way in fayre accord. Till him the Prince with gentle court did bord : * Sir knight, mote I of you this court'sy read. To weet why on your shield, so goodly scord, Beare ye the picture of that Ladies head ? Full lively is the semblaunt, though the substance dead.' III. * Fayre Sir,' (sayd he) ' if in that picture dead Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine shew ; What mote ye weene, if the trew lively- head Of that most glorious visage ye did vew: But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew, That is, her bounty, and imperiall powre, Thousand times fairer than her mortall hew, O ! how great wonder would your thoughts devoure, And infinite desire into your spirite poure. * Shee is the mighty Queene of Faery, Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe beare ; Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity Throughout the world, renowmed far and neare. My liefe, my liege, my Soveraine, my deare, Whose glory shineth as the morning starre, And with her light the earth enlumines cleare : Far reach her mercies, and her praises farre, As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in warre.' 'Thrise happy man,' (said then the Briton knight) ' Whom gracious lott and thy great valiauuce Have made thee soldier of that Princesse bright, Which with her bounty and glad counte- naunce Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high advaunce. How may straunge knight hope ever to aspire, By faithfull service and meete amenaunce, Unto such blisse? sufficient were that hire For losse of thousand lives, to die at her desire.' VI. Said Guyon, ' Noble Lord, what meed so great, Or grace of earthly Prince so soveraine. But by your wondrous worth and warlike feat Ye well may hope, and easely attain e? But were your will her sold to entertaine. And numbred be mongst knights of May- denhed, Great guerdon, well I wote, should you remaine. And in her favor high bee reckoned, As Arthegall and Sophy now beene honored.' VII. ' Certes,' (then said the Prince) ' I God avow. That sith I armes and knighthood first did plight, My whole desire hath beene, and yet is n~ow. To serve that Queene with al my powre and might. Seven times the Sunne, with his lamp- burning light, Hath walkte about the world, and I no lesse, Sith of that Goddesse I have sought the sight, Yet no where can her find : such happi- nesse Heven doth to me envy, and fortune favourlesse.' VIII. * Fortune, the foe of famous chevi- saunce, ' Seldom ' (said Guyon) ' yields to vertue aide, But in her way throwes mischiefe and mischaunce, • i6o THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. ^ Whereby her course is stopt and passage staid : But you, faire Sir, be not herewith dis- maid, But constant keepe the way in which ye stand ; Which, were it not that I am els delaid Wilh hard adventure which I have in hand, I labour would to guide you through al Faery land.' IX. ' Gramercy Sir,' said he ; ' but mote I weete What straunge adventure doe ye now pursew? Perhaps my succour or advizement meete Mote stead you much your purpose to subdew.' Then gan Sir Guyon all the story shew Of false Acrasia, and her wicked wiles ; , Which to avenge the Palmer him forth drew From Faery court. So talked they, the whiles They wasted had much way, and measurd many miles. X. And now faire Phoebus gan decline in haste His weary wagon to the Westerne vale, AVhenas they spide a goodly castle, plaste ]*\)reby a river in a pleasaunt dale; Which choosing for that evenings lios- pitale, They thither marcht: but when they ., came in sight, And from their sweaty Coursers did avale, They found the gates fast barred long ere night, And every loup fast lockt, as fearing foes despight. \.. XI. Which when they saw, they weened fowle reproch Was to them doen, their entraunce to forestall, Till that the Squire gan nigher to approch, And wind his borne under the castle wall, That with the noise it shooke as it would fall. Eftsoones forth looked from the highest spire The watch, and lowd unto the knights did- call, To weete what they so rudely did require? AVho gently answered, They entraunce did desire. 'Fly fly, good knights,' (said he) 'fly fast away, If that your lives ye love, as meete ye should ; Fly fast, and save your selves from neare decay ; Here may ye not have entraunce, though we would : We would, and would againe, if that we could ; But thousand enemies about us rave. And with long siege us in the castle liould. Seven yeares this wize they us besieged have, And many good knights slaiue that have us sought to save.' XIII. Thus as he spoke, loe! with outragious cry A thousand villeins rownd about them swarmd Out of the rockes and caves adjoyning nye; Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, de- formd, All threatning death, all in straunge manner arnid ; Some with unweldy clubs, some with long speares, Some rusty knifes, some staves in tier warmd : Sterne was their looke ; like wild amaze4 steares, Staring with hollow eies, and stiffe up- standing heares. Fiersly at first those knights they did assayle. And drove them to recoile ; but when againe They gave fresh charge, their forces gan to fayle, Unhable their encounter to sustaine ; For with such puissauuce and impetuous maine Those Champions broke on them, that forst them fly, Like scattered Sheepe, whenas the Shep- herds swaine A Lyon and a Tigre doth espye. With greedy pace forth rushing from the forest nye. XV. A while they fled, but soone retournd againe With greater fury then before was fownd ; CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. i6i And evermore their cruell Capitaine Sought witli his raskall routs t'enclose them rownd, And, overronne, to tread them to the grownd : But soone the knights with their bright bunnng blades Broke their rude troupes, and orders did confownd, Hewing and slashing at their idle shades ; For though they bodies seem, yet sub- staunce from them fades. As when a swarme of Gnats at eventide Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise, Their murmuring small trompetts sown- den wide, Whiles in the aire their clustring army flies, That as a cloud doth seeme to dim the skies ; Ne man nor beast may rest, or take re- past For their sharpe wounds and noyous in- juries, Till the fierce Northerne wind with blus- tring blast Doth blow them quite away, and in the Ocean cast. Thus when they had that troublous rout disperst, Unto the castle gate they come againe, And entraunce crav'd which was denied erst. Now when report of that their perlous paine, And combrous conflict which they did sustaine, Came to the Ladies eare which there did dwell, Shee forth issewed with a goodly traine Of Squires and Ladies equipaged well, And entertained them right fairely, as befell. XVIII. Alma she called was ; a virgin bright, That had not yet felt Cupides wanton rage; Yet was shee woo'd of many a gentle knight. And many a Lord of noble parentage, That sought with her to lincke in mar- riage : For shee was faire as faire mote ever bee, And in the flowre now of her freshest age ; Yet full of grace and goodly modestee, That even heven rejoyced lier sweete face to see. In robe of lilly white she was arayd, That from her shoulder to her heele downe raught ; The traine whereof loose far behind her strayd, Braunched with gold and perle most richly wrought, And borne of two faire Damsels which were taught That service well. Her yellow golden heare Was trimly woven and in tresses wrought, Ne other tire she on her head did weare, But crowned with a garland of sweete Rosiere. XX. Goodly shee entertaind those noble knights, And brought them up into her castle hall ; Where gentle court and gracious delight Shee to them made, with mildnesse vir- ginall, Shewing her selfe both wise and liberall. Then, when they rested had a season dew, They her besought of favour speciall Of that faire Castle to affoord them vew : Shee grauuted ; and, them leading forth, the same did shew. First she them led up to the Castle wall, That was so high as foe might not it clime, And all so faire and fensible withall ; Not built of bricke, ne yet of stone and lime, But of thing like to that Egyptian slime. Whereof king Nine whilome built Babell towre. But O great pitty ! that no lenger time So goodly workemanship should not en- dure : Soone it must turne to earth ; no earthly thing is sure. XXII. The frame thereof seemd partly circu- lare, And part triangulare ; O worke divine ! Those two the first and last proportions are; The one imperfect, mortall, foeminine, Th' other immortall, perfect, masculine; And twixt them both a quadrate was the base, Proportiond equally by seven and nine ; Nine was the circle sett in heavens place • l62 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. All which compacted made a goodly Diapase. XXIII. Therein two gates were placed seemly- well: The one before, by which all in did pas, Did th' other far in workmanship excell ; For not of wood, nor of enduring bras. But of more worthy substance fram'd it was: Doubly disparted, it did locke and close, That when it locked none might thorough pas. And when it opened, no man might it close ; Still open to their friendes, and closed to their foes. XXIV. Of hewen stone the porch was fayrely wrought. Stone more of valew, and more smooth and fine, Then Jett or Marble far from Ireland brought ; Over the which was cast a wandring vine, Enchaced with a wanton yvie twine ; And over it a fayre Portcullis hong, Which to the gate directly did incline With comely compasse and compacture strong, Nether unseemly short, nor yet exceed- ing long. Within the Barbican a Porter sate, Day and night duely keeping watch and ward ; Nor wight nor word mote passe out of the gate. But in good order, and with dew regard ; Utterers of secrets he from thence debard, Bablers of folly, and blazers of cryme: His larumbell might lowd and wyde be hard When cause requyrd, but never out of time ; Early and late it rong, at evening and at prime. xxvi. And rownd about the porch on every syde Twise sixteene warders satt, all armed bright In glistring Steele, and strongly fortifyde : Tall yeomen seemed they and of great might. And were enraunged ready still for fight. By them as Alma passed with her guestes, They did obeysaunce, as beseemed right, And then againe retourned to their restes : The Porter eke to her did lout with hum- ble gestes. XXVII. Thence she them brought into a stately Hall, Wherein were many tables fayre dispred, And ready dight with drapets festivall. Against the viaundes should be ministred. At th' upper end there sate, yclad in red Downe to the ground, a comely personage, That in his hand a white rod menaged : He Steward was, hight Diet; rype of age. And in demeanure sober, and in counsell sage. XXVIII. And through the Hall there walked to and fro A jolly yeoman, Marshall of the same, Whose name was Appetite : he did bestow Both guestes and meate, when ever in they came, And knew them how to order without blame. As him the "Steward badd. They both attone Did dewty to their Lady, as became ; Who, passing by, forth ledd her guestes auone Into the kitchin rowme, ne spard for nice- nesse none. XXIX. It was a vaut ybuilt for great dispence. With many raunges reard along the wall, And one great chimney, whose long ton- nell thence The smoke forth threw. And in the midst of all There placed was a caudron wide and tall Upon a mightie fornace, burning whott. More whott then Aetn', or flaming Mon- giball For day and night it brent, ne ceased not, So long as any thing it in the caudron gott. XXX. But to delay the heat, least by mis- chaunce It might breake out and set the whole on fyre, There added was by goodly ordinaunce An huge great payre of bellowes, which did sty re Continually', and cooling breath inspyre. About the Caudron many Cookes accoyld With hookes and ladles, as need did re- quyre ; The whyles the viaundes in the vessell boyld CANTO IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 163 They did about their busiuesse sweat, and sorely toyld. XXXI. The maister Cooke was eald Coucoction ; A carefuU man, and full of comely guyse. The kitchin clerke, that hight Digestion, Did order all th' Achates in seemely wise, And set them forth, as well he could de- vise. The rest had severall offices assynd ; Some to remove the scum as it did rise ; Others to beare the same away did mynd ; And others it to use according to hiskyud. XXXII. But all the liquour, which was fowle and waste. Not good nor serviceable elles for ought. They in another great ro wnd vessell plaste , Till by a conduit pipe it thence were brought : And all the rest, that noyous was and nought, By secret wayes, that none might it espy, Was close convaid, and to the backgate brought, That cleped was Port Esquiline, whereby It was avoided quite, and throwne out privily. Which goodly order and great work- mans skill Whenas those knightes beheld, with rare delight And gazing wonder they their mindes did fill; For never had they scene so strauuge a sight. Thence backe againe faire Alma led them right. And soone into a goodly Parlour brought. That was with royall arras richly dight. In which was nothing pourtrahed nor wrought ; Not wrought nor pourtrahed, but easie to be thought. xxxiv. And in the midst thereof upon the floure A lovely bevy of faii-e Ladies sate. Courted of many a jolly Paramoure, The which them did in modest wise amate. And each one sought his Lady to aggrate : And eke emongst them litle Cupid playd His wanton sportes, being retourned late From his fierce warres, and having from him layd His cruell bow, wherewith he thousands hath dismayd. Diverse delights they fownd them selves to please ; Some song in sweet consort ; some laught for joy ; Some plaid with strawes ; some ydly satt at ease ; But other some could not abide to toy ; All pleasaunce was to them griefe and annoy: This f round, that faund, the third for shame did blush. Another seemed envious or coy. Another in her teeth did gnaw a rush ; But at these straungers presence every one did hush. xxxvi. Soone as the gracious Alma came in place. They all attonce out of their seates arose. And to her homage made with humble grace : Whom when the knights beheld, they gan dispose Themselves to court, and each a damzell chose. The Prince by chaunce did on a Lady light, That was right faire and fresh as morning rose, But somwhat sad and solemne eke in sight, As if some pensive thought constraind her gentle spright. In a long purple pall, whose skirt with •gold Was fretted all aboiit, she was arayd ; And in her hand a Poplar braunch did hold : To whom the Prince in courteous maner sayd; * Gentle Madame, why beene ye thus dis- mayd, And your faire beautie doe with sadnes spill ? Lives any that you hath thus ill apayd ? Or doen you love? or doen you lack your will ? What ever bee the cause, it sure bcseemes you ill.' XXXVIII. ' Fayre Sir,' said she, halfe in disdaine- ful wise, ' How is it that this mood in me ye blame, And in your selfe doe not the same advise ? Him ill beseemes anothers fault to name, That may unwares bee blotted with the same : 164 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Pensive I yeeld I am, and sad in mind, Through great desire of glory and of fame ; Ne ought, I weene, are ye therein behynd, That have three years sought one, yet no where can her find.' XXXIX. The Prince was inly moved at her speach. Well weeting trew what she had rashly told; Yet with faire semhlauut sought to hyde the breach. Which chauuge of colour did perforce vm- fold, Now seeming flaming whott, now stony cold : Tho, turning soft aside, he did inquyre What wight she was that Poplar braunch did hold ? It answered was, her name was Prays- desire, That by well doing sought to honour to aspyre. XL. The whyles the Faery knight did enter- tayne Another Damsell of that gentle crew, That was right fayre and modest of de- mayne. But that too oft she chaung'd her native hew. Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment blew. Close rownd about her tuckt with many a plight : Upon her fist the bird, which slionneth vew. And keepes in coverts close from living wight, Did sitt, as yet ashamd how rude Pan did her dight. XLI. So long as Guyon with her coramoned. Unto the grownd she cast her modest eye. And ever and anone with rosy red The bashfull blood her snowy cheekes did dye, That her became, as polisht yvory Which cunning Craftesman hand hath overlayd With fayre vermilion or pure Castory. Great wonder had the knight to see the mayd So straungely passioned, and to her gently said: XLII. ' Fayre Damzell, seemeth by your troubled cheare. That either me too bold ye weene, this wise You to molest, or other ill to feare That in the secret of your hart close lyes, From whence it doth, as cloud from sea, aryse. If it be I, of pardon I you pray ; But if ought else that 1 mote not devyse, I will, if please you it discure, assay To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I may.' XLIII. She answerd nought, but more abasht for shame Held downe her head, the whiles her lovely face The flashing blood with blushing did in- flame, And the strong passion mard her modest grace, That Guji^on mervayld at her uncouth cace; Till Alma him bespake : ' Why wonder yee, Faire Sir, at that which ye so nxuch em- brace ? She is the fountaine of your modestee : You sharaefast are, but Shamelastnes it selfe is shee.' XLIV. Thereat the Fife did blush in privitee, And turnd his face away, but she the same Dissembled faire, and faynd to oversee. Thus they awhile with court and goodly game Themselves did solace each one with his Dame, Till that great Lady thence away them sought To vew her Castles other wondrous frame : Up to a stately Turret she them brought, Ascending by ten steps of Alabaster wrought. XLV. That Turrets frame most admirable was, Like highest heaven compassed around. And lifted high above this earthly masse, Which it survewd as hils doen lower ground ; But not on ground mote like to this be found : Not that, which antique Cadmus whvlome ■ built In Thebes, which Alexander did confound ; ; Nor that proud towre of Troy, though 1 richly guilt. From which young Hectors blood by cruell > Greekes was spilt. XLVI. The roofe hereof was arched over head, And deckt with flowers and herbars daintily: IX.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 165 Two goodly Beacons, set in watches stead, Therein gave light, and flamd continu- ally; For they of living fire most subtilly "Were made, and set in silver sockets bright, Cover'd with lids deviz'd of substance sly, That readily they shut and open might. O ! who can tell the prayses of that makers might ? XLVII. Ne can I tell, ne can I stay to tell. This parts great workemanship and won- drous powre, That all this other worldes worke doth ex- cell. And likest is unto that heavenly towve That God hath built for his owne blessed bow re. Therein w^ere divers row^mes, and divers stages ; But three the chiefest and of gi-eatest powre, In which there dwelt three honorable sages, The wisest men, I weene, that lived in their ages. XLVIII. Not he, whom Greece, the Nourse of all good arts. By Phoebus doome the wisest thought alive, Might be compar'd to these by many parts : Nor that sage Pyliau syre, which did sur- vive Three ages, such as mortall men contrive. By whose advise old Priams cittie fell, With these in j)raise of pollicies mote strive. These three in these three rowmes did sondry dwell, And counselled faire Alma how to governe well. XLIX. The first of them could things to come foresee ; The next could of thinges present best advize ; The third things past could keep in mem- oree : So that no time nor reason could arize. But that the same could one of these com- prize. For-thy the fii'st did in the forepart sit, That nought mote hinder his quicke pre- judize: He had a sharpe foresight ami working M^it That never idle was, ne once would rest a whit. His chamber was dispainted all within With sondry colours, in the which were writ Infinite shapes of thinges dispersed thin ; Some such as in the world were never yit, Ne can devized be of mortall wit ; Some daily scene and knowen by their names. Such as in idle fantasies do flit ; Infernall Hags, Centaurs, feendes. Hippo- dames, Apes, Lyons, Aegles, Owles, fooles, lovers, children, Dames. And all the chamber filled was with flyes Which buzzed all about, a;id made such sound That they encombred all mens cares and eyes ; Like many swarmes of Bees assembled round, After their hives with honny do abound. All those were idle thoughtes and fanta- sies, Devices, dreames, opinions unsound, Shewes, visions, sooth-sayes, and prophe- sies ; And all that fained is, as leasings, tales, and lies. LII. Eniongst them all sate he which wonned there. That bight Phan tastes by his nature trew ; A man of yeares yet fresh, as mote appere. Of swarth complexion, and of crabbed hew, That him full of melancholy did shew ; Bent hollow beetle browes, sharpe staring- eyes. That mad or foolish seemd: one by his vew Mote deeme him borne with ill-disposed skyes, AVhen oblique Saturue sate in th' house of agonyes. LIII. Whom Alma having shewed to her guestes, Thence brought them to the second rownie, whose wals Were painted faire with memorable gestes Of famous Wisards ; and with picturals Of Magistrates, of courts, of tribunals, Of commen-wealthes, of states, of pollicy. Of lawes,of judgementes, and of decretals, All artes, all science, all Philosophy, And all that in the world was ay thought wittily. 166 THE FAERIE QUEENE. l&m^^ ic. Of those that rowme was full ; and them among There sate a naan of ripe and perfect age, Who did them meditate all his life long, Tliat through continual! practise and usage He now was growne right wise and won- drous sage : (Jreat pleasure had those strauuger knightes to see His goodly reason and grave personage, Tiiat his disciples both desyrd to bee ; But Alma thence them led to th' hind- most rowme of three. That chamber seemed ruinous and old, And therefore was removed far behind, Yet were the wals, that did the same uphold, Right tirme and strong, though somwhat they declind ; And therein sat an old old man, halfe blind, And all decrepit in his feeble corse, Yet lively vigour rested in his mind, And recompenst them with a better scorse : Weake body wel is chang'd for minds redoubled forse. This man of infinite reraembraunce was, And things foregone through many ages held, Which he recorded still as they did pas, Ne suffred them to perish through long eld. As all things els the which this world doth weld ; But laid them up in his immortall serine, Where they for ever incorrupted dweld : The warres he well remembred of king Nine, Of old Assaracus, and Inachus divine. The yeares of Nestor nothing were to his, Ne yet Mathusalem, though longest liv'd ; For he remembred both their infancis: Ne wonder then, if that he were depriv'd Of native strength now that he them surviv'd. His chamber all was hangd about with rolls And old records from auncient times derivd, Some made in books, some in long parch- ment scrolls, That were all worm-eaten and full of canker holes. LVIII. Amidst them all he in a chaire was sett, Tossing and turning them withouten end ; But for he was unliable them to fett, A litle boy did on him still attend To reach, when ever he for ought did send ; And oft when thinges were lost, or laid: amis. That boy them sought and unto him did'. lend : Therefore he Anamnestes cleped is; And that old man Eumnestes, by their* propertis. LIX. The knightes there entring did him reverence dew, And wondred at his endlesse exercise: Then as they gan his Library to vew, And antique Regesters for to avise. There chaunced to the Princes hand to rize An auncient booke, hight Britoii moni- ments, That of this lands first conquest did devize, And old division into Regiments, Till it reduced was to one mans governe- ments. Sir Guyon chaunst eke on another- booke. That hight Antiqiiltee of Faery land : In which whenas he greedily did looke, Th' ofspring of Elves and Faeryes there he fond, As it delivered was from bond to bond : Whereat they, burning both with fecvent fire Their countreys auncestry to understond",, Crav'd leave of Alma and that aged sire To read those bookes ; who gladly graunted their desire. CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 167 CANTO X. A chronicle of Briton kings, From Brute to Uthers rayne ; And rolls of Elfln Eiiiperours, Till time of Gloriane. Who now shall give unto me words and sound Equall unto this haughty enterprise? Or who shall lend me wings, with which from ground My lowly verse may loftily arise, And lift it selfe unto the highest skyes? jNlore ample spirit than hitherto was wount Here ueedes me, whiles the famous auucestryes Of ray most dreaded Soveraigne I recount. By which all earthly Princes she doth far surmount. II. Ne under Sunne that shines so wide and faire, Whence all that lives does borrow life and light, Lives ought that to her linage may compaire ; AVhich though from earth itbederived right, Yet doth it selfe stretch forth to hevens hight, And all the world with wonder overspred ; A labor huge, exceeding far my might. How shall fraile pen, with feare dis- paraged. Conceive such soveraine glory and great bountyhed ? III. Argument worthy of M?eonian quill ; Or rather worthy of great Phoebus rote. Whereon the mines of great Ossa hill. And triumphes of Phlegra^an Jove, he wrote. That all the Gods adniird his lofty note. But if some relish of that hevenly lay His learned daughters would to me report To decke my song withall, I would assay Thy name, O soveraine Queene ! to blazon far away. IV. Thy name, O soveraine Queene! thy realme, and race, From this renowmed Prince derived arre. Who mightily upheld that royall mace Which now thou bear'st, to thee descended farre From mighty kings and conquerours in warre, Thy fathers and great Grandfathers of old, AVhose noble deeds above the Northern starre Immortall fame for ever hath enrold ; As in that old mans booke they were iu order told. V. The land which warlike Britons now possesse, And therein have their mighty empire raysd, In antique times was salvage wildernesse, Unpeopled, unmannurd, unprovd, un- praysd ; Ne was it Island then, ne was it paysd Amid the ocean waves, ne was it sought Of merchants farre for profits therein praysd ; But was all desolate, and of some thought By sea to have bene from the Celticke maynland brought. VI. Ne did it then deserve a name to have, Till that the venturous Mariner that way Learning his ship from those white rocks to save, Which all along the Southerne sea-coast lay Threatning unheedy wrecke and rash decay, For safety that same his sea-marke made, And namd it Albion : But later day, 'Finding in it fit ports for fishers trade, Gan more the same frequent, and further to invade. VII. But far in land a salvage nation dwelt Of hideous Giaunts, and halfe beastly men, That never tasted grace, nor goodnes felt; But wild like beastes lurking in loathsome den, And flying fast as Roebucke through the fen. All naked without shame or care of cold. By hunting and by spoiling liveden ; Of stature huge, and eke of corage bold, That sonnes of men amazd their steru- nesse to behold. i68 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. . VIII. But whence they sprong, or how they were begott, Uneath is to assure ; uneath to wene That monstrous error, which doth some assott, That Diocle.sians fifty daughters shene Into this laud by chaunce have driven bene ; Where, compauing with feends and filthy Sprights Through vaine illusion of their lust unclene. They brought forth Geaunts, and such dreadful wights As far exceeded men in their immeasurd mights. IX. They held this land, and with their filthinesse Polluted this same gentle soyle long time ; That their owne mother loathd their beast- linesse, And gan abhorre her broods unkindly crime. All were they borne of her owne native slime : Until that Brutus, anciently deriv'd From roiall stocke of old Assaracs line, Driven by fatall error here arriv'd, And them of their unjust possession depriv'd. But ere he had established his throne, And spred his empire to the utmost shore, He fought great batteils with his salvage fone; In which he them defeated evermore, And many Giaunts left on groning flore : That well can Avitnes yet unto this day The westerne Hogh, besprincled with the gore Of mighty Gocmot, whome in stout fray Corineus conquered, and cruelly did slay. And eke that ample Pitt, yet far renownd For the large leape which Debon did compell Coulin to make, being eight lugs of grownd, Into the which retourning backe he fell : But those three monstrous stones doe • most excell, Which that huge sonne of hideous Albion, Whose father Hercules in Fraunce did quell, Great Godmer threw, in fierce contention, At bold Canutus ; but of him was slaine anon. XII. In meed of these great conquests by them gott, Corineus had that Province utmost west To him assigned for his worthy lott. Which of his name and memorable gest He called Cornwaile, yet so called best ; And Debons shayre was that is Devon- sliyre : But Canute had his portion from the rest. The which he cald Canutium, for his hyre ; Now Cautium, which Kent we comeuly inquyre. XIII. Thus Brute this Realme unto his rule subdewd. And raigned long in great felicity, Lov'd of his freends, and of his foes eschewd : He left three sonnes, his famous progeny, Borne of fayre Inogene of Italy ; Mongst whom he parted his imperiall state, And Locrine left chiefe Lord of Britany. At last ripe age bad him surrender late His life, and long good fortune, unto finall fate. XIV. Locrine was left the soveraine Lord of all: But Albanact had all the Northerne part, Which of himselfe Albania he did call ; And Camber did possesse the Westerne quart, Which Severne now from Logris doth depart : And each his portion peaceably enjoyd, Ne was there outward breach, nor grudge in hart, That once their quiet government annoyd ; But each his paynes to others profit still employd. XV. Untill a nation straunge, with visage swart, And corage fierce that all men did affray. Which through the world then swarmd in every part, And overflowd all countries far away, Like Noyes great flood, with their impor- tune sway, This land invaded with like violence, And did themselves through all the North display : Untill that Locrine for his Realmes de- fence. Did head against them make and strong munificence, CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 169 XVI. He them encountred, a confused rout, Foreby the River that whylome was hight The ancient Abus, where with courage stout He them defeated in victorious fight, And chaste so fiercely after fearefull flight, That forst their chiefetain, for his safeties sake, (Their Cliiefetain Humber named was aright,) Unto the mighty streame him to betake, Where he an end of batteill and of life did make. XVII. The king retourned proud of victory, And insolent wox through unwonted ease. That shortly he forgot the jeopardy. Which in his land he lately did appease. And fell to value voluptuous disease : He lov'd faire Ladie Estrild, leudly lov'd, Whose wanton pleasures him too much did please. That quite his hart from Guendolene remov'd, From Guendolene his wife, though alwaies faithful prov'd. The noble daughter of Corineus Would not endure to bee so vile disdaind, But, gathering force and corage valorous, Encountred him in batteill well ordaind. In which him vanquisht she to fly con- straind : But she so fast pursewd, that him she tooke And threw in bands, where he till death remaind ; Als his faire Leman flying thi-ough a brooke She overhent, nought moved with her piteous looke ; XIX. But both her selfe, and eke her daughter deare, Begotten by her kingly Paramoure, The faire Sabrina, almost dead with feare She there attached, far from all succoure The one she slew upon the present floure But the sad virgin, innocent of all, Adowne the rolling river she did poure, Which of her name now Severne men do call : Such was the end that to disloyall love did fall. XX. Then for her sonne, which she to Locrin bore, Madan was young, unmeet the rule to sway, In her owne hand the crowne she kept in store. Till ryper years he raught and stronger stay ; During which time her powre she did display Through allthis Realms, the glory of her sex. And first taught men a woman to obay : But, when her sonne to mans estate did wex. She it surrendred, ne her selfe would lenger vex. XXI. Tho Madan raignd, unworthie of his race. For with all shame that sacred throne he fild. Next Memprise, as unworthy of that place ; In which being consorted with Manild, For thirst of shigie kingdom him he kild. But Ebranck salved both their infamies With noble deedes, and warreyd on Brun- child In Henault, where yet of his victories Brave moniments remaine, which yet that land envies. XXII. An happy man in his first dayes he was, And happy father of faire progeny : For all so many weekes as the yeare has, So many children he did multiply: Of which were twentie sounes, which did apply Their mindes to prayse and chevalrous desyre : Those germans did subdew all Germany, Of whom it hight : but in the end their Syre With ioule repulse from Fraunce was forced to retyre. XXIII. Which blott his sonne succeeding in his seat. The second Brute, the second both in name And eke in semblaunce of his puissaunce great. Right well recur'd, and did away that blame With recompence of everlasting fame : He with his victour sword first opened lyo THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. The bowels of wide Fraunce, a forlorne Dame, And taught her first how to be con- quered ; Since which, with sondrie spoiles she hath been ransacked. XXIV. Let Scaldis tell, and let tell Hauia, And let the mai-sh of Esthambruges tell. What colour were their waters that same day. And all the moore twixt Elversham and Dell, With blood of Henalois which therein fell. How oft that day did sad Brunchildis see The greene shield dyde in dolorous ver- meil? That not Scuith guiridh it mote seeme to bee. But rather y scuith gogh, signe of sad crueltee. XXV. His Sonne, king Leill, by fathers labour long, Enjoyd an heritage of lasting peace. And built Cairleill, and built Cairleon strong. Next Huddibras his realme did not encrease. But taught the land from wearie w^ars to cease : Whose footsteps Bladud following, in artes Exceld at Athens all the learned preace. From whence he brought them to these salvage parts, And with sweet science mollifide th.eir stubborne harts. XXVI. Ensample of his wondrous faculty, Behold the boyling bathes at Cairbadon, Which seeth with secret fire eternally, And in their entrailles, full of quick Brim- ston, Nourish the flames which they are warmd upon. That to their people wealth tliey forth do well, And health to every forreyne nation : Yet he at last, contending to excell The reach of men, through flight into fond mischief fell. Next him king Leyr in happie peace long raynd. But had no issue male him to succeed, But three faire daughters, which were well uptraind In all that seemed fitt for kingly seed : Mongst whom his realme he equally de- creed To have divided. Tho, when feeble age | Nigh to his utmost date he saw proceed, He cald his daughters, and with speeches sage Inquyrd, which of them most did love her parentage? The eldest, Gonorill, gan to protest That she much more than her owne life him lov'd ; And Regan greater love to him profest Then all the world, when ever it were proov'd ; But Cordeill said she lov'd him as be- hoov'd : Whose simple answere, wanting colours fayre To paint it forth, him to displeasaunce moov'd, That in his crown he counted her no hayre, But twixt the other twain his kingdom whole did shayre. So wedded th' one to Maglan king of Scottes, And thother to the king of Cambria, And twixt them shayrd his realme by equall lottes; But without dowre the wise Cordelia Was sent to Aggannip of Celtica. Their aged Syre, thus eased of his crowne, A private life ledd in Albania With Gonorill, long had in great renowne. That nought him griev'd to beene from rule deposed downe. But true it is that, when the oyle is spent. The light goes out, and weeke is throwne away : So, when he had resignd his regiment. His daughter gan despise his drouping day. And wearie wax of his continuall stay. Tho to his daughter Regan he repay rd, Who him at first well used every way; But when of his departure she de- spay rd, Her bountie she abated, and his cheare empayrd. CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 171 The wretched man gan then avise too late, That love is not where most it is profest ; Too truely tryde in his extremest state. At last, resolv'd likewise to prove the rest, He to Cordelia him selfe addrest, Who with eutyre affection him receav'd, As for her Syre and king her seemed best; And after all an army strong she leav'd, To war on those which him had of his realme bereav'd. So to his crowne she him restord againe ; In which he dyde, made ripe for death by eld, And after wild it should to her remaine, Who peaceably the same long time did weld, And all mens harts in dew obedience held ; Till that her sisters children, woxen strong, Through proud ambition against her rebeld, And overcommen kept in prison long. Till weary of that wretched life her selfe she hong. XXXIII. Then gan the bloody brethren both to raine ; But fierce Cundah gan shortly to envy His brother Morgan, prickt with proud disdaine To have a pere in part of soverainty ; And kindling coles of cruell enmity, Raisd warre, and him in batteill overthrew. Whence as he to those woody hilles did fly, Which hight of him Glamorgan, there him slew: Then did he raigne alone, when he none equall knew. XXXIV. His Sonne Rivall' his dead rowme did supply ; In whose sad time blood did from heaven rayne. Next great Gurgustus, then faire Caecily, In constant peace their kingdoms did contayne. After whom Lago, and Kinmarke did rayne. And Gorbogud, till far in years he grew : Then his ambitious sonnes unto them twayne Arraught the rul6,-and from their father drew ; Stout Ferrex and sterne Porrex him in prison threw. XXXV. But O! the greedy thirst of rovall crowne. That knowes no kinred, nor regardes no right, Stird Porrex up to put his brother downe ; Who, unto him assembling forreigne might. Made warre on him, and fell him selfe in fight: Whose death t'avenge, his mother merci- lesse, Most mercilesse of women, Wyden hight. Her other sonne fast sleeping did oppresse, And with most cruell hand him murdred pittilesse. XXXVI. Here ended Brutus sacred progeny. Which had seven hundred yeares this scepter borne With high renowme and great felicity : The noble braunch from th' antique stocke was torne Through discord, and the roiall throne forlorne. Thenceforth this Realme was into fac- tions rent, Whilest each of Brutus boasted to be borne, That in the end was left no moniment Of Brutus, nor of Britons glorie auncient. Then up arose a man of matchlesse might, And wondrous wit to menage high af- f ay res. Who, stird with pitty of the stressed plight Of this sad realme, cut into sondry shay res By such as claymd themselves Brutes rightfull hay res, Gathered the Princes of the people loose To taken counsell of their common cares ; Who, with his wisedom won, him streight did choose Their king, and swore him fealty to win or loose. XXXVIII. Then made he head against his eni- mies, And Ymner slew of Logris miscreate ; Then Ruddoc and proud Stater, both allyes. 172 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. This of Albany newly nominate, And that of Cambry king confirmed late, He overthrew through his owne vali- aunce ; Whose countries he redus'd to quiet state, And shortly brought to civile gover- naunce, Now one, which earst were many made through variaunce. Then made he sacred lawes, which some men say Were unto hira reveald in vision ; By which he freed the Travellers highway, The Churches part, and Ploughniaiis portion. Restraining stealth and strong extortion. The gratious Nunia of greai Britany ; For till his dayes, the chiefe dominion By strength was wielded without pollicy : Therefore he first wore crowue of gold for dignity. XL. Donwallo dyde, (for what may live for ay?) And left two sonnes, of pearelesse prowesse both, That sacked Rome too dearely did assay, The recompence of their perjured oth ; And ransackt Greece wel tryde, when they were wroth ; Besides subjected Fi-ance and Germany, Which yet their praises speake, all be they loth, And inly tremble at the memory Of Brennus and Belinus, kinges of Brit- any. XLI. Next them did Gurgiunt, great Belinus Sonne, In rule succeede, and eke in fathers praise ; He Easterland subdewd, and Denmarke wonne. And of them both did foy and tribute raise, The which was dew in his dead fathers dales. He also gave to fugitives of Spayne, Whom he at sea found wand ring from their waies, A seate in Ireland safely to remayne. Which they should hold of him, as sub- ject to Britayne. XLII. After him raigned Guitheliue his hayre, The justest man and trewest in his dales, Who had to wife Dame Mertia the fayre, A woman worthy of immortall praise, Which for this Realme found many goodly layes, And wholesome Statutes to her husband brought. Her many deemd to have beene of the Fayes, As was Aegerie that Numa tought : Those yet of her be Mertian lawes both nam'd and thought. Her Sonne Sisillus after her did rayne ; And then Kimarus; and then Danius: Next whom Morindus did the crowne sustayne ; Who, had he not with wrath outrageous And cruell rancour dim'd his valorous And mightie deedes, should matched have the best : As well in that same field victorious Against the forreine Morands he exprest ; Yet lives his memorie, though carcas sleepe in rest. Five sonnes he left, begotten of one wife, All which successively by turnesdid rayne : First Gorboman, a man of vertuous life; Next Archigald, who for his proud dis- dayne Deposed was from princedome soverayne, And pitteous Elidure put in his sted ; Who shortly it to him restord agayne. Till by his death he it recovered : But Peridure and Vigent him disthron- ized. XLV. In wretched prison long he did re- maine, Till they outraigned had their utmost date. And then therein reseized was againe. And ruled long with honorable state, Till he surrendered Realme and life to fate. Then all the sonnes of these five brethren raynd By dew successe, and all their Nephewes late; Even thrise eleven descents the crowne retaynd. Till aged Ilely by dew heritage it gaynd. XLVI. He had two sonnes, whose eldest, called Lud, CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 173 Left of his life most famous memory, And endlesse moniments of his great , good : The ruin'd wals he did resedifye Of Troynovant, gainst force of enimy, And built that gate which of his name is hight, . By which he lyes entombed solemnly. He left two sonnes, too young to rule aright, Androgens and Tenantius, pictures of his might. XLVII. Whilst they were young, Cassibalane, their Eme, Was by the people chosen in their sted, AVho on him tooke the roiall Diademe, And goodly well long time it governed ; Till the prowde Romanes him disquieted. And warlike Caesar, tempted with the name Of this sweet Island never conquered. And envying the Britons blazed fame, (O hideous hunger of dominion !) hither came. XLVIII. Yet twise they were repulsed backe agaiue, And twise renforst backe to their ships to fly; The whiles with blood they all the shore did staine, And the gray Ocean into purple dy: Ne had they footing found at last, perdie, Had not Androgens, false to native soyle, And envious of Uncles soveraintie, Betrayd his countrey unto forreine spoyle. Nought els but treason from the first this land did foyle. So by him Caesar got the victory. Through great bloodshed and many a sad assay, In which himselfe was charged heavily Of hardy Nennius, whom he yet did slay, But lost his swoi'd, yet to be scene this day. Thenceforth this land was tributarie made T'ambitious Rome, and did their rule obay, Till Arthur all that reckoning defrayd : Yet oft the Briton kings against "them strongly swayd. Next him Tenantius raignd ; then Kimbeline, What time th' eternall Lord in fleshly slime Enwombed was, from wretched Adams line To purge away the guilt of sinfull crime. O joyous memorie of happy time, Tliat heavenly grace so plenteously dis- play d ! (O too high ditty for my simple rime!) Soone after this the Romanes him war- rayd ; For that their tribute he refusd to let be payd. LI. Good Claudius, that next was Emper- our, An army brought, and with him battel le fought, In which the king was by a Treachetour Disguised slaine, ere any thereof thought: Yet ceased not the bloody fight for ought ; For Arvirage his brothers place supplyde Both in his armes and crowne, and by that draught Did drive the Romanes to the weaker syde. That they to peace agreed. So all was pacifyde. LII. Was never king more highly magnifide, Nor dredd of Romanes, then was Arvir- age; For which the Emperour to him allide His daughter Genuiss' in marriage : Yet shortly he renounst the vassallage Of Rome againe, who hither hastly sent Vespasian, that with great spoile and rage Forwasted all, till Genuissa gent Persuaded him to ceasse, and her lord to relent. He dide ; and him succeeded Marius, Who joyd his dayes in great tranquillity. Then Coyll ; and after him good Lucius, That first received Christianity, The sacred pledge of Christes Evangely. Yet true it is, that long before tliat day Hither came Joseph of Arimathy, Who brought with him the holy grayle, they say, And preacht the truth ; but since it greatly did decay. LIV. This good king shortly without issew dide. Whereof great trouble in the kingdome grew, That did her selfe in sondry parts divide, J 74 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. And with her powre her owns selfe over- threw, Whilest Romanes daily did the weake sub- dew: Which seeing, stout Bunduca up arose, And taking armes tfte'~~BTfitons to her drew ; With whom she marched streight against her foes, And them un wares besides the Severne did enclose. LV. There she with them a cruell batteill tryde. Not with so good successe as shee de- serv'd ; By reason that the Captaines on her syde, Corrupted by Paulinus, from her swerv'd : Yet, such as were through former flight preserv'd Gathering againe, her Host she did renew, And with fresh corage on the victor servd : But being all defeated, save a few, Rather than fly, or be captiv'd, her selfe she slew. LVI. O famous moniment of womens prayse! Matchable either to Semiramis Whom antique history so high doth rayse, Or to Hypsiphil', or to Thomiris. Her Host two hundred thousand numbred is; Who, whiles good fortune favoured her might. Triumphed oft against her enemis ; And yet, though overcome in haplesse fight, iShee triumphed on death, in enemies despight. LVII. Her reliques Fulgent having gathered, Fought with Severus, and him overthrew. Yet in the chace was slaine of them that fled, So made them victors whome he did sub- dew. Then gan Carausius tirannize anew. And gainst the Romanes bent their proper powre ; But him Allectus treacherously slew. And tooke on him the robe of Emperoure : Nath'lesse the same enjoyed but short happy howre : LVIII. For Asclepiodate him overcame. And left inglorious on the vanquisht playne. Without or robe or rag to hide his shame : Then afterwards he in liis stead did raigne, But shortly was by Cuyll in batteill slaine : Who after long debate, since Lucies tyme. Was of the Britons first crownd Soveraine. Then gan this Realme renew her passed prime : He of his name Coylchester built of stone and lime. LIX. Which when the Romanes heard, they hither sent Constantius, a man of mickle might, With whome king Coyll made an agree- ment. And to him gave for wife his daughter bright, Fayre Helena, the fairest living wight; Who in all godly thewes and goodly praise Did far excell, but was most famous bight For skil in Musieke of all in her dales. As well in curious instruments as cunning laies. LX. Of whom he did great Constantine be- gett. Who afterward was Emperour of Rome, To which whiles absent he his mind did sett, Octavius here lept into his roome, And it usurped by unrighteous doome: But he his title justifide by might. Slaying Traherne, and having overcome The Romane legion in dreadfull fight. So settled he his kingdome, and confirmd his right : LXI. But wanting yssew male, his daughter deare He gave in wedlocke to Maximian, And him with her made of his kingdome heyre. Who soone by meanes thereof the Em- pire wan, Till murdred by the freends of Gratian. Then gan the Hunnes and Picts invade this land. During the raigne of Maximinian ; Who dying left none heire them to with- stand. But that they overran all parts with easy hand. LXII. The weary Britons, whose war-hable youth Was by Maximian lately ledd away, With wretched miseryes and woefull ruth. Were to those Pagans made an open pray. And daily spectacle of sad decay : Whome Romane warres, which now fowr hundred yeares And more had wasted, could no whit dis-. may; CANTO X.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 175 Til, by consent of Commons and of Peares, They ci'ownd the second Constantine with joyous teares. Who having oft in batteill vanquished Those spoylefull Picts, and swarming Eas- terliugs, Long time in peace his realme established, Yet oft annoyd with sondry bordragings, Of neighbour Scots, and forrein Scatter- lings With which the world did in those dayes abound : Which to outbarre, with painefull pyon- ings From sea to sea be heapt a mighty mound, Which from Alcluid to Panwelt did that border bownd. Three sones he dying left, all under age ; By meanes whereof their uncle Vortigere Usurpt the crowne during their pupillage ; Which th' Infants tutors gathering to feare, Them closely into Armorick did beare: For dread of whom, and for those Picts anuoyes, He sent to Germany straunge aid to reare ; From whence eftsoones arrived here three hoyes Of Saxons, whom he for his safety im- ployes. LXV. Two brethren were their Capitayns, which hight Hengist and Horsus, well approv'd in warre, And both of them men of renowmed might; Who making vantage of their civile jarre, And of those forreyners which came from far re. Grew great, and got large portions of land. That in the Realme ere long they stronger arre Then they which sought at first their help- ing hand, And Vortiger have forst the kingdome to aband. LXVI. But by the helpe of Vortimere his sonne, He is againe unto his rule restord; And Hengist, seeming sad for that was donne. Received is to grace and new accord, Through his faire daughters face and flat- triug word. Soone after which three hundred Lords he slew Of British blood, all sitting at his bord ; Whose dolefull moniments who list to rew, Th' eternall marks of treason may at Stonheug vew. LXVII. By this the sonnes of Constantine, which tied, Ambrose and Uther, did ripe yeares at- tayne. And, here arriving, strongly challenged The crowne which Vortiger did long de- tayne : Who, flying from his guilt, by them was slayne; And Hengist eke soon brought to shame- full death. Thenceforth Aurelius peaceably did rayne. Till that through poyson stopped was his breath ; So now entombed lies at Stoneheng by the heath. LXVIII. After him Lather, which Pendragon hight, Succeeding — There abruptly it did end, Without full point, or other Cesure right; As if the rest sOme wicked hand did rend. Or th' Author selfe could not at least at- tend To finish it: that so untimely breach The Prince him selfe halfe seemed to offend ; Yet secret pleasure did offence empeach. And wonder of antiquity long stopt his speach. LXIX. At last, quite ravisht with delight to heare The royall Of spring of his native land, Cryde out; ' Deare countrey! O! ^ow dearely deare Ought thy remembraunce and perpetuall band Be to thy foster Childe, that from thy hand Did commun breath and nouriture re- ceave. How brutish is it not to understand How much to her we owe, that all us gave ; That gave unto us all what ever good we have. LXX. But Guyon all this while his booke did read, Ne yet has ended ; for it was a great And ample volume, that doth far excead 176 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. My leasure so long leaves here to repeat : It told how first Prometheus did create A man, of many parts from beasts de- ryv'd, And then stole fire from heveu to animate His worke, for which he was by Jove de- pry v'd Of life him self, and hart-strings of an Aegleryv'd. That man so made he called Elfe, to weet Quick, the first author of all Elfin kynd; Who, wandriug through the w^orld with wearie feet. Did in the gardins of Adonis fynd A goodly creature, whom he deemd in mynd To be no earthly wight, but either Spright, Or Angell, th' authour of all woman kynd ; Therefore a Fay he her according hight, Of whom all Faeryes spring, and fetch their lignage right. Of these a mighty people shortly grew. And puiss'^nt kinges which all the world wairayd. And totlK in selves all Nations did subdew. The first and eldest, which that scepter swayd, Was Elfin ; him all India obayd, And all that now America men call : Next him was noble Elfinan, who laid Cleopolis foundation first of all: But Elfiline enclosd it with a golden wall. His Sonne was Elfiuell, who overcame The wicked CTobbelines in bloody field ; But Elfant was of most renowmed fame. Who all of Christall did Panthea build : Then Elfar, who two brethren gyauntes kild. The one of which had two heades, th' other three : Then Elfinor, who was in magick skild; He built by art upon the glassy See A bridge of bras, whose sound hevens thunder seem'd to bee. LXXIV. He left three sonnes, the which in order rayud, And all their Ofspring, iu their dew de- scents ; Even seven hundred Princes, which main- taynd With mightie deedes their sondry govern- ments ; That were too long their infinite contents Here to record, ne much materiall : Yet should they be most famous moni- ments. And brave ensample, both of martiall And civil rule, to kinges and states im- periall. LXXV. After all these Elficleos did rayne. The wise Elficleos, iu great Majestic, Who mightily that scepter did sustayne. And with rich spoyles and famous victorie Did high advaunce the crowne of Faery ; He left tw^o sonnes, of which faire Elferou, The eldest brother, did untimely dy ; Whose emptie place the mightie Oberon Doubly supplide, in spousall and dominion. Great was his power and glorie over all Which, him before, that sacred seate did fill, That yet remaines his wide memoriall. He dying left the fairest Tanaquill, Him to succeede therein, by his last will: Fairer and nobler liveth none this howre, Ne like in grace, ne like in learned skill ; Therefore they Glorian call that glorious flowre : Long mayst thou, Glorian, live in glory and great powre ! Beguyld thus with delight of novelties, And naturall desire of countryes state. So long they redd in those antiquities, That how the time was fled they quite forgate ; Till gentle Alma, seeing it so late. Perforce their studies broke, and them besought To thinke how supper did them long awaite : So halfe unwilling from their bookes them brought, And fay rely feasted as so noble knightes she ought. CANTO XI.] THE PAERIE QUEENE. 177 CANTO XI. The enimies of Teniperaunce Besiege her dwelling- place: Prince Arthnre them repelles, and fowie Maleger doth deface. What warre so cruel, or what siege so sore, As that which strong affections doe apply Against the forte of reason evermore, To bring the sowle into captivity? Their force is fiercer through infirmity Of the fraile flesh, relenting to their rage, And exercise most bitter tyranny Upon the partes brought into tlieir bon- dage: No wretchednesse is like to sinfuU vellen- age. II. But in a body which doth freely yeeld His partes to reasons rule ol)edient, And letteth her that ought the scepter weeld, All happy peace and goodly government Is setled there in sure establishment. There Alma, like a virgin Queene most bright. Doth florish in all beautie excellent ; And to her guestes doth bounteous banket dight, Attempred goodly well for health and for delight. III. Early, before the Morne with cremosin ray I The windowes of bright heaven opened had. Through which into the world the dawn- ing day Might looke, that maketh every creature glad, Uprose Sir Guyon, in bright armour clad. And to his purposd journey him prepar'd : With him the Palmer eke in habit sad Him selfe addrest to that adventure hard : So to the rivers syde they both together far'd : IV. Where them awaited ready at the ford The Ferriman, as Alma had behight. With his well-riggod bote: They goe abord, And he eftsoones gan launch his barke forthright. Ere long they rowed were quite out of sight, And fast the land behynd them fled away. But let them pas, whiles wind and wether right Doe serve their turnes : here I a while must stay, To see a cruell fight doen by the prince this day. v. For all so soone as Guyon thence was gon Upon his voyage with his trustie guyde. That wicked band of villeins fresh begon That castle to assaile on every side, And lay strong siege about it far and wyde. So huge and infinite their numbers were, That all the land they under them did hyde ; So fowle and ugly, that exceeding feare Their visages imprest when they ap- proched neare. . Them in twelve troupes their Captein did dispart, And round about in fittest steades did place. Where each might best offend his proper part. And his contrary object most deface. As every one seem'd meetest in that cace. Seven of the same against the Castle gate In strong entrenchments he did closely place. Which with incessaunt force and endlesse hate They battred day and night, and entraimce did awate. VII. The other five five sondry wayes he sett Against the five great Bulwarkes of that pyie. And unto each a Bulwarke did arrett, T' assayle with open force or hidden guyle, In hope thereof to win victorious spoile. They all that charge did fervently apply With greedie malice and importune toyle. And planted there their huge artillery, With which they dayly made most dread- full battery. VIII. The first troupe was a monstrous rable^ ment 178 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book ii. Of fowle misshapen wightes, of which some were Headed like Owles, with beckes uncomely bent; Others like Dogs; others like Gryphons dreare ; , And some had wings, and some had claw^es to tea re : And every one of them had Lynces eyes ; And every one did bow and arrowes beare. All those were lawlesse lustes, corrupt envyes, And covetous aspects, all cruell enimyes. IX. Those same against the bulwarke of the Sight Did lay strong siege and battailous as- sault, Ne once did yield it respitt day nor night ; But soone as Titan gan his head exault. And soone againe as he his light with- hault, Their wicked engins they against it bent ; That is, each thing by which the eyes may fault : But two then all more huge and violent, Beautie and Money, they that Bulwarke sorely rent. X. The second Bulwarke was the Hearing sence, Gainst which the second troupe assign- ment makes ; Deformed creatures, in straunge differ- ence. Some having heads like Harts, some like to Snakes, Some like wilde Bores late rouzd out of the brakes : Slaunderous reproches, and fowle infa- mies, Leasinges, backbytinges, and vain-glorious crakes, Bad counsels, prayses, and false flatteries : All those against that fort did bend their batteries. XI. Likewise that same third Fort, that is the Smell, Of that third troupe was cruelly assayd ; Whose hideous shapes were like to feendes of hell. Some like to h(>un(les, some like to Apes, dismayd. Some like to Puttockes, all in plumes arayd ; All shap't according their conditions: For by those ugly formes weren pourtrayd Foolish delights, and fond abusious, Which doe that scnce besiege with light illusions. XII. And that fourth band which cruell battry bent Against the fourth Bulwarke, that is the Taste, Was, as the rest, a grysie rablement ; Some mouth 'd like greedy Oystriges; some faste Like loathly Toades ; some fashioned in the waste Like swine : for so deformd is luxury, Surfeat, misdiet, and unthriftie waste, Vaine feastes, and ydle superfluity : All those this sences Fort assayle inces- santly. XIII. But the fift troupe, most horrible of hew And ferce of force, is dreadfull to report ; For some like Snailes, some did like spyders shew, And some like ugly Urchins thick and short : | Cruelly they assayed that fift Fort, i Armed with dartes of sensuall Delight, j With stinges of caruall lust, and strong I effort I Of feeling pleasures, with which day and ;; niglit H Against that same fift bulwarke they continued fight. Thus these twelve troupes with dread- full puissauuce Against that Castle restlesse siege did lay, And evermore their hideous Ordinaunce Upon the Bulwarkes cruelly did play, That now it gan to threaten neare decay: And evermore their wicked Capitayn Provoked them the breaches to assay, Sometimes with threats, sometimes with hope of gayn, Which by the ransack of that peece they should attayn. XV. On th' other syde, th' assieged Castles ward Their stedfast stonds did mightily main- taine, And many bold repulse and many hard Atchievement wrought, with perill and and with payne. That goodly frame from mine to sus- tain e : And those two brethren Gyauntesdid defend CANTO XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. r79 The walles so stoutly with their sturdie mayue, That never entraunce any durst pretend, But they to direfull death their groning ghosts did send. The noble Virgin, Ladie of the Place, Was much dismayed with that dreadful sight, For never was she in so evill cace, Till that the Prince, seeing her wofull plight, Gan her recomfort from so sad affright, Offring his service, and his dearest life For her defence against that Carle to fight, "Which was their chiefe and th' authour of that strife : She him remercied as the Patrone of her life. XVII. Eftsoones him self e in glitterand armes he dight. And his w-ell proved weapons to him hent; So, taking courteous conge, he behight These gates to be mibar'd, and forth he went. Fayre mote he thee, the prowest and most gent, That ever brandished bright Steele on hye! Whome soone as that unruly rablement With his gay Squyre issewing did espye, 'They reard a most outrageous dreadfull yelling cry : XVIII. And there withall attonce at him let fly Their fluttring arrowes, thicke as flakes of snow. And round about him flocke impetuously : Like a great water flood, that tombling low From the high mountaines, threates to overflow With suddein fury all the fertile playne, And the sad husbandman s long hope doth throw Adowne the streame, and all his vowes make vayne ; ^or bounds nor banks his headlong ruiue may sustayne. Upon his shield their heaped hayle he bore, And with his sword disperst the raskall flockes, Which fled asonder, and him fell before,' As withered leaves drop from their dryedl stockes. When the wroth Western wind does reave their locks : And underneath him his courageous steed. The fierce Spumador, trode them downe like docks ; The fierce Spumador, borne of heavenly seed. Such as Laomedon of Phoebus race did breed. XX. Wliich suddeine horrour and confused cry "When as their Capteine heard, in haste he yode The cause to weet, and fault to remedy : Upon a Tygre swift and fierce he rode, That as the winde ran underneath his', lode. Whiles his long legs nigh raught unto the ground. Full large he was of limbe, and shoulders brode. But of such subtile substance and un- sound. That like a ghost he seem'd whose grave- clothes were unbound : XXI. And in his hand a bended bow was scene, And many arrowes under his right side, All deadly daungerous, all cruell keene, Headed with flint, and fethers bloody dide ; Such as the Indians in their quivers hide : Those could he well direct and streight as line, And bid them strike the marke which he had eyde ; Ne was there salve, ne was there medi- cine. That mote recure their wounds; so inly they did tine. XXII. As pale and wan as ashes was his looke, His body leane and meagre as a rake, And skin all withered like a dryed rooke; Thereto as cold and drery as a snake, That seemd to tremble evermore and quake ; All in a canvas thin he was bedight, And girded with a belt of twisted brake : i8o THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Upon his head he wore an Helmet light, Made of a dead mans skull, that seemd a ghastly sight. XXIII, Maleger was his name ; and after him There follow'd frst at hand tw^o wicked Hags, With hoary lockes all loose, and visage grim ; Their feet mishod, their bodies wrapt in rags, And both as swift on foot as chased Stags ; And yet the one her other legge had lame. Which with a staffe, all full of litle snags, She did support, and Impotence her name : But th' other was Impatience, arm'd with raging flame. XXIV. Soone as the Carle from far the Prince espyde Glistring in amies and warlike ornament. His Beast he felly prickt on either syde, And his mischievous bow full readie bent. With which at him a cruell shaft he sent: But he was warie, and it warded well Upon his shield, that it no further went. But to the ground the idle quarrell fell : Then he another and another did expell. Which to prevent the Prince his mortall speare Soone to him raught, and fierce at him did ride, To be avenged of that shot whyleare ; But he was not so hardy to abide That bitter stownd, but turning quicke aside His light-foot beast, fled fast away for feare : Whom to poursue the Infant after hide So fast as his good Courser could him beare ; But labour lost it was to weene approch him neare. XXVI. For as the winged wind his Tigre fled, That vew of eye could scarse him over- take, Ne scarse his feet on ground were seene to tred : Through hils and dales he speedy way did make, Ne hedge ne ditch his readie passage brake ; And in his' flight the villein turn'd his face (As wonts the Tartar by the Caspian lake, Whenas the Russian him in fight does chace) Unto his Tygres taile, and shot at him apace. XXVII. Apace he shot, and yet he fled apace, Still as the greedy knight nigh to him drew ; And oftentimes he would relent his pace. That him his foe more fiercely should poursew : But when his uncouth manner he did vew. He gan avize to follow him no more. But keepe his standing, and his shaftes eschew, Untill he quite had spent his perlous store. And then assay le him fresh, ere he could shift for more. XXVIII. But that lame Hag, still as abroad he strew His wicked arrowes, gathered them again e. And to him brought, fresh batteill to renew ; Which he espying cast her to restraine From yielding succour to that cursed Swaine, And her attaching thought her hands to tye; But soone as him dismounted on the plaine That other Hag did far away espye Binding her sister, she to him ran hastily ; XXIX. And catching hold of him, as downe he lent, Him backeward overthrew, and downe him stayd With their rude handes and gryesly gra- plement ; Till that the villein, comming to their ayd, Upon him fell, and lode upon him layd: Full litle wanted but he had him slaine. And of the battell balefuU end had made, Had not his gentle Squire beheld his paine, And commen to his reskew, ere his bitter bane. CANTO XL] THE FAERIE QOEENE. l8i So greatest and most glorious thing on ground May often need the helpe of weaker hand ; So feeble is mans state, and life unsound, That in assuraunce it may never stand, Till it dissolved be from earthly band. Proof e be thou, Prince, the pro west man alyve, And noblest borne of all in Britayne land ; Yet thee fierce Fortune did so nearely drive, That, had not grace thee blest, thou shouldest not survive. XXXI. The Squyre arriving fiercely in his armes Snatcht first the one, and then the other Jade, His chiefest lefts and authors of his harmes. And them perforce withheld with threat- ued blade, Least that his Lord they should behiude invade ; The whiles the Prince, prickt with re- prochful shame. As one awakte out of long slombring shade, Revivyng thought of glory and of fame. United all his powa-es to purge him selfe from blame. Like as a fire, the which in hollow cave Hath long bene underkept and down sup- prest. With murmurous disdayne doth inly rave. And grudge in so streight prison to be prest. At last breakes forth with furious unrest. And strives to mount unto his native seat ; All that did earst it hinder and molest, Yt nov/ devoures with flames and scorch- ing heat. And carries into smoake with rage and horror great. XXXIII. So mightely the ■ Briton Prince him rouzd Out of his holde, and broke his caytive bands ; And as a Beare, whom angry curres have touzd, Having off-shakt them and escapt their hands, Becomes more fell, and all that him with- stands Treads down and overthrowes. Now had the Carle Alighted from his Tigre, and his hands Discharged of his bow and deadly quar'le, To seize upon his foe flatt lying on the marie. XXXIV. Which now him turnd to disavantage deare ; For neither can he fly, nor other harme. But trust unto his strength and manhood meare, Sith now he is far from his monstrous swarme. And of his weapons did himselfe disarme. The knight, yet wrothfull for his late dis- grace, Fiercely advaunst his valorous right arme. And him so sore smott with his yron mace. That groveling to the ground he fell, and fild his place. XXXV. Wei weened hee that field was then his owne, And all his labor brought to happy end ; When suddein up the villeine overthrowne Out of his swowne arose, fresh to contend. And gan him selfe to second battaill bend, As hurt he had not beene. Thereby there lay An huge great stone, which stood upon one end. And had not bene removed many a day ; Some land-marke seemd to bee, or signe of sundry way : XXXVI. The same he snatcht, and with exceed- ing sway Threw at his foe, yvhe was right well aware To shonne the engin of his meant decay ; It booted not to thiuke that throw to beare. But grownd he gave, and lightly lept areare : Eft fierce retourniug, as a faulcon fayre, That once hath failed of her souse full neare. Remounts againe into the open ayre, And unto better fortune doth her selfe prepayre. XXXVII. So brave retourniug, with his brandisht blade He to the Carle him selfe agayn addrest. And strooke at him so sternely, that he made An open passage through his riven brest, 152 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. That halfe the Steele behind his backe did rest; Which drawing backe, he looked ever- more When the hart blood should gush out of his chest, Or his dead corse should fall upon the flore; But his dead corse upon the fiore fell uathemore. XXXVIII, Ne drop of blood appeared shed to bee, All were the wownd so wide and wonder- ous That through his carcas one might playnly see. Halfe in amaze with horror hideous, And halfe in rage to be deluded thus, Again through both the sides he strooke him quight. That made his spright to grone full pite- ous; Yet uathemore forth fled his groning spright, But freshly, as at first, prepard himselfe to fight. XXXIX. Thereat he smitten was with great affright. And trembling terror did his hart apall ; Ne wist he what to thinke of that same sight, Ne what to say, ne what to doe at all : He doubted least it were some magicall Illusion that did beguile his sense. Or wandring ghost that wanted funerall. Or aery spirite under false pretence. Or hellish feend raysd up through divelish science. XL. His wonder far exceeded reasons reach. That he began to doubt his dazeled sight. And oft of error did himselfe appeach : Flesh without blood, a person without spright, Wounds without hurt, a body without might. That could doe harme, yet could not harmed bee. That could not die, yet seemd a mortall wight, That was most strong in most infirmitee ; Like did he never heare, like did he never see. XLI. Awhile he stood in this astonishment, Yet would he not for all his great dismay Give over to effect his first intent. And th' utmost meanes of victory assay, Or th' utmost yssew of his owne decay. His owne good sword Mordure, that never fayld At need till now, he lightly threw away, And his bright shield that nought him now avayld ; And with his naked hands him forcibly assay Id. XLII. Twixt his two mighty armes him up he snatcht. And crusht his carcas so against his brest, That the disdainfuU sowle he thence dis- patcht, And th' ydle breath all utterly exprest. Tho, when he felt him dead, adowue he kest The lumpish corse unto the sencelesse grownd ; Adowne he kest it with so puissant wrest, That backe againe it did alofte rebownd, And gave against his mother earth a gronefull sownd. As when Joves harnesse-bearing Bird from hye Stoupes at a flying heron with proud dis- dayne. The stone-dead quarrey falls so forciblye, That yt rebownds against the lowly playne, A second fall redoubling backe agayne. Then thought the Prince all peril sure was past, And that he victor onely did remayne ; No sooner thought, then that the Carle as fast Gan heap huge strokes on him, as ere he down was cast. Nigh his wits end then woxe th' amazed knight. And thought his labor lost, and travell vayne, Against this lifelesse shadow so to fight : Yet life he saw, and felt his mighty mayne, That, whiles he marveild still, did still him payne ; Forthy he gaii some other wayes advize. How to take life from that dead-living swayne, Whom still he marked freshly to arize From th' earth, and from her womb new spirits to reprize. XLV. He then remembred well, that had bene sayd, CANTO XI.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 83 How th' Earth his mother was, and first him bore ; She eke, so often as his life decayd. Did life with usury to him restore. And reysd him up much stronger then before, So soone as he unto her wombe did fall : Therefore to grownd he would him cast no more, Ne him committ to grave terrestriall. But beare him farre from hope of succour usuall. XLVI. Tho up he caught him twixt his puissant hands, And having scruzd out of his carrion corse The lothfull life, now loosd from sinfull bands. Upon his shoulders carried him perforse Above three furlongs, taking his full course Until he came unto a standing lake ; Him thereinto he threw without remorse, Ne stird, till hope of life did him forsake : So end of that Carles dayes and his owne paynes did make. Which when those wicked Hags from far did spye, Like two mad dogs they ran about the lands. And th' one of them with dreadfull yelling crye, Throwing away her broken chaines and bands. And having quencht her burning fier- brands, Hedlong her selfe did cast into that lake ; But Impotence with her owne wilfull hands One of Malegers cursed darts did take, So ryv'd her trembling hart, and wicked end did make. Thus now alone he conquerour remaines : Tho, cummiug to his Squyre that kept his steed, Thought to have mounted ; but his feeble values Him faild thereto, and served not his need, Through losse of blood which from his wounds did bleed. That he began to faint, and life decay: But his good Squyre, him helping up with speed, With stedfast hand upon his horse did stay, And led him to the Castle by the beaten way. XLIX. Where many Groomes and Squyres ready were To take him from his steed full tenderly ; And eke the fayrest Alma mett him there With balme, and wine, and costly spicery, To comfort him in his infirmity. Eftesoones shee causd him up to be con- vayd, And of his armes despoyled easily In sumptuous bed shee made him to be layd; And al the while his wounds were dress- ing by him stayd. CANTO XII. Guyon, by Palmers governaunce. Passing through perilles great, Doth overthrow the Bovvre of blis, And Acrasy defeat. Now ginnes that goodly frame of Tem- peraunce Fay rely to rise, and her adorned bed To. pricke of highest prayse forth to ad- vaunce, Formerly grounded and fast setteled On firme foundation of true bountyhed: And this brave knight, that for this ver- tue fightes. Now comes to point of that same peril- ous sted, Where Pleasure dwelles in sensuall de- lights, Mongst thousand dangers, and ten thou- sand Magick mights. Two dayes now in that sea he sayled has, Ne ever land beheld, ne living wight, Ne ought save perill still as he did pas : Tho, when appeared the third Morrpw bright 1 84 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Upon the waves to spred her trembling light, An hideous roring far away they heard, That all their sences filled with affright ; And streight they saw the raging surges reard Up to the skyes, that them of drowning madeaffeard. Said then the Boteman, ' Palmer, stere aright, And keepe an even course; for yonder way We needes must pas (God doe us well acq night!) That is the Gulfe of Greediuesse, they say. That deepe engorgeth all this worldes pray ; Which haviDg swallowd up excessively. He soone in vomit up againe doth lay, And belcheth forth his superfluity, That all the seas for feare doe seeme away to fly. ' On thother syde an hideous Rocke is pight Of mightie Magnes stone, whose craggie clift Depending from on high, dreadfull to sight. Over the waves his rugged armes doth lift, And threatneth downe to throw his ragged rift On whoso Cometh nigh ; yet nigh it drawes All passengers, that none from it can shift : For, whiles they fly that Gulfes devour- ing jawes, They on this rock are rent, and sunck in helples wawes.' Forward they passe, and strongly he them rowes, Untill they nigh unto that Gulfe arryve, Where streame more violent and greedy growes : Then he with all his puisaunce doth stryve To strike his oares, and mightily doth drive The hollow vessell through the threatfull wave ; Which, gaping wide to swallow them alyve In th' huge abysse of his engulfing grave. Doth rore at them in vaine, and with srreat terrour rave. They, passing by, that grisely mouth d^d see Sucking the seas into his entralles deepe, That seemd more horrible then hell to bee, Or that darke dreadfull hole of Tartare steepe Through which the damned ghosts doen often creepe Backe to the world, bad livers to tor- ment: But nought that falles into this direfull deepe Ne that approcheth nigh the wyde de- scent. May backe retourne, but is condemned to be drent. On thother side they saw that perilous Rocke, Threatuiug it selfe on them to ruinate, On whose sharp cliftes the ribs of vessels broke ; And shivered ships, which had beene wrecked late. Yet stuck with carkases exanimate Of such, as having all their substance spent In wanton joyes and lustes intemperate. Did afterwards make shipwrack violent Both of their life and fame, for ever fowly blent. Forthy this bight The Rocke of vile Reproch, A daungerous and detestable place. To which nor fish nor fowle did once approch, But yelling Meawes, with Seagulles hoars and bace, And Cormoyraunts, with birds of rav- enous race. Which still sat waiting on that wastfull clift For spoile of wretches, whose unhappy cace. After lost credit and consumed thrift, ^ At last them driven hath to this despaire- full drift. IX. The Palmer, seeing them in safetie past. Thus saide ; * Behold th' ensamples in our sights CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 85 Of lustfull luxurie and thriftlesse wast. AVhat now is left of miserable wightes, Which spent their looser dales iu lend delightes, But shame and sad reproch, here to be red By these rent reliques, speaking their ill plightes? Let all that live hereby be counselled To shunne Rocke of Reproch, and it as death tod red ! ' X. So forth they rowed ; and that Ferry- man With his stiffe oares did brush the sea so strong, That the hoare waters from his frigot ran , And the light bubles daunced all along, Whiles the salt brine out of the billowes sprong. At last far off they many Islandes spy On every side tloting the tioodes eniong : Then said the knight; 'Lo! 1 the land descry ; Therefore, old Syre, thy course doe there- unto apply.' XI. ' That may not bee,' said then the Ferryman, ' Least wee unweeting hap to be for- donne ; For those same Islands, seeming now and than, Are not firme land, nor any certein wonne. But stragling plots which to and fro doe ronne In the wide waters: therefore are they hight The Wandriug Islands. Therefore doe them shonne; For they have ofte drawne many a wandriug wight Into most deadly daunger and distressed plight. XII. ' Yet well they seeme to him, that farre doth vew, Both faire and fruitfull, and the groAvnd dispred With grassy greene of delectable hew ; And the tall trees with leaves appareled Are deckt with blossoms dyde in white and red. That mote the passengers thereto allure ; But whosoever once hath fastened His foot thereon, may never it recure, But wandreth evermore uncertein and unsure. ' As th' Isle of Delos whylome, men re- port, Amid th' Aegean sea long time did stray, Ne made for shipping any certeine port, Till that Latona travelling that way. Flying from Junoes wrath and hard assay. Of her fayre twins was there delivered, Which afterwards did rule the night and day : Thenceforth it firmely was established, And for Apolloes temple highly berried.' XIV. • They to him hearken, as beseemeth meete, And passe on forward : so their way does That one of those same Islands, which doe fleet In the wide sea, they needes must passen i>y. Which seemd so sweet and pleasaunt to the ej'e. That it would tempt a man to toucheu there : Upon the banck they sitting did espy A daintie damsell dressing of her heare. By whom a little skippet floting did appeare . XV. She, them espying, loud to them can call. Bidding them nigher draw unto the shore, For she had cause to busie them withall ; And therewith lowdly laught: But nathe- more Would they once turne, but kept on as afore : Which when she saw, she left her lockes uiidight, And running to her boa,t withouten ore. From the departing land it launched light. And after them did drive with all her power and might. WHiom overtaking, she iu merry sort Them gau to bord, and purpose diversly ; Now faining dalliauuce and wanton sport, Now throwing forth lewd wordes im- modestly: Till that the Palmer gan full bitterly Her to rebuke for being loose and light : Which not abiding, but more scornfully Scoffing at him that did her justly wite, 86 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. She turnd her bote about, and from them rowed quite. That was the wanton Phtedria, which late Did ferry liim over the Idle lake : Whom nought regarding they kept on their gate, And all her vaine allurements did forsake ; When them the wary Boteman thus be- spake : ' Here now behoveth us well to avyse. And of our safety good heede to take ; For here before a perlous passage lyes, Where many Mermayds haunt making false melodies : ' But by the way there is a great Quick- sand, And a whirlepoole of hidden jeopardy ; Therefore, Sir Palmer, keepe an even hand. For twixt them both the narrow way doth ly.' Scarse had he saide, when hard at hand they spy That quicksand nigh with water covered ; But by the checked wave they did descry It plaine, and by the sea discoloured : It called was the quickesand of Uuthrif ty- hed. XIX. They, passing by, a goodly Ship did see Laden from far with precious merchan- dize, And bravely furnished as ship might bee, Which through great disaventure, or mes- prize, Her selfe had ronne into that hazardize ; Whose mariners and merchants with much toyle Labour'd in vaine to have recur'd their prize, And the rich wares to save from pitteous spoyle ; But neither toyle nor t -aveill might her backe recoyle. On th' other side they see that perilous Poole, That called was the Whirlepoole of decay ; In which full many had with haplesse doole Beene suncke, of whom no memorie did stay: Whose circled waters rapt with whirling sway, Like to a restlesse wheele, still ronning round. Did covet, as they passed by that way, To draw their bote within the utmost bound Of his wide Labyrinth, and then to have them dround, XXI. But th' heedful Boteman strongly forth did stretch His brawnie armes, and all his bodie straine. That th' utmost sandy breach they shortly fetch, Whiles the dredd daunger does behind remaine. Suddeine they see from midst of all the Maine The surging waters like a mountaine rise, And the great sea, puft up with proud disdaine, To swell above the measure of his guise, As threatning to devoure all that his powre despise. XXII, The waves come rolling, and the billowes rore Outragiously, as they enraged were. Or wrathfull Neptune did them drive before His whirling eharet for exceeding feare ; For not one puffe of winde there did ap- peare, That all the three thereat woxe much afrayd, Unweeting what such horrour straunge did reare. Eftsoones they saw an hideous hoast arrayd Of huge Sea monsters, such as living sence dismayd : XXIII. Most ugly shapes and horrible aspects, Such as Dame Nature selfe mote feare to see, Or shame that ever should so fowle defects From her most cunning hand escaped bee ; All dreadf all pourtraicts of deformitee : Spring-headed Hydres; and sea-should- ring Whales ; Great whirlpooles which all fishes make to flee ; Bright Scolopendraes arm'd with silver scales ; Mighty Monoceroses with immeasured tayles. XXIV. The dreadful Fish that hath deserv'd the name CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. i«7 Of Death, and like him lookes in dread- full hew ; The griesly Wasserman, that makes his game The flying ships with swiftnes to pursew : The horrible Sea-satyre, that doth shew His fearefull face in time of greatest storme ; Huge Ziflius, whom Mariners eschew No lesse then rockes, (as travellers in- fo rme) And greedy Rosraarines with visages de- forme. All these, and thousand thousands many more, And more deformed Monsters thousand fold. With dreadf ull noise and hollow rombling rore Came rushing, in the fomy waves enrold, Which seera'd to fly for feare them to behold. Ne wonder, if these did the knight appall ; For all that here on earth we dreadful! hold, Be but as bugs to fearen babes withall. Compared to the creatures in the seas en- trall. XXVI. ' Feare nought,' then saide the Palmer well aviz'd, ' For these same Monsters are not these in deed. But are into these fearefull shapes dis- guiz'd By that same wicked witch, to worke us dreed. And draw from on this journey to pro- ceed.' Tho lifting up his vertuous staffe on hye, He smote the sea, which calmed was with speed, And all that dreadf ull Armie fast gan flye Into great Tethys bosome, where they hidden lye. Quit from that danger forth their course they kept ; And as they went they heard a ruefull cry Of one that wayld and pittifully wept. That through the sea resounding plaints did fly : At last they in an Island did espy A seemely Maiden sitting by the shore. That with great sorrow and sad agony Seemed some great misfortune to deplore. And lowd to them for succour called ever- more. XXVIII. Which Guyon hearing streight his Palmer bad To stere the bote towards that dolefull Mayd, That he might know and ease her sorrow sad ; Who, him avizing better, to him sayd : ' Faire Sir, be not displeasd if disobayd : For ill it Avere to hearken to her cry, For she is inly nothing ill apayd ; But onely womanish fine forgery, Your stubborne hart t'affect with fraile infirmity. XXIX. ' To which when she your courage hath inclind Through foolish pitty, then her guilefull bayt She will embosome deeper in your mind, And for your ruiue at the last awayt.' The Knight was ruled, and the Boteman strayt Held on his course with stayed stedfast- nesse, Ne ever shroncke, ne ever sought to bayt His tyred amies for toylesome wearinesse. But with his oares did sweepe the watry wildernesse. And now they nigh approched to the sted Whereas those Mermayds dwelt : it was a still And calmy bay, on th' one side sheltered With the brode shadow of an hoarie hill ; On th' other side an high rocke toured still, That twixt them both a pleasaunt port they made, And did like an halfe Theatre fulfill : There those five sisters had continuall trade, And usd to bath themselves in that de- ceiptfull shade. XXXI. They were faire Ladies, till they fondly "striv'd With th' Heliconian maides for maystery ; Of whom they, over-comen, weredepriv'd Of their proud beautie, and th' one moyity Transformd to fish for their bold surque- dry ; But th' upper halfe their hew retayned still, And their sweet skill in wonted melody ; i88 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book ii. AVhich ever after they abusd to ill, T' allure weake traveillers, whom gotten they did kill. So now to Giiyon, as he passed by, Their pleasauut tunes they sweetly thus applyde : ' O thou fayre sonne of gentle Faery, That art in mightie amies most magnifyde Above all knights that ever batteill tryde, O! turne thy rudder hitherward awhile : Here may thy storme-bett vessell safely ryde, This is the Port of rest from troublous toyle, The worldes sweet In from paine and wearisome turmoyle.' With that the rolling sea, resomiding soft, In his big base them fitly answered ; And on the rocke the waves breaking aloft A solemne Meane unto them measured ; The whiles sweet Zephyrus lowd whisteled His treble, a straunge kinde of harmony. Which Guyons senses softly tickeled. That he the boteman bad row easily, And let him heare some part of their rare melody. XXXIV. But him the Palmer from that vanity With temperate advice discounselled. That they it past, and shortly gan descry The land to which their course they leveled ; When suddeinly a grosse fog over-spred With his dull vapour all that desert has, And heavens chearefull face enveloped. That all things one, and one as nothing was, And this great Universe seemd one con- fused mas. XXXV. Thereat they greatly were dismayd, ne wast How to direct theyr way in darkenes wide, But feard to wander in that wasteful! mist. For tombling into mischiefe unespide : Worse is the daunger hidden then descride. Suddeinly an innumerable flight Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering cride. And with their wicked wings them ofte did smight, And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly night. XXXVI. Even all the nation of unfortunate And fatall birds about them flocked were. Such as by nature men abhorre and hate; The ill-faste Owle, deaths dreadfull mes- sengere ; The hoars Night-raven, trump of doleful! drere ; The lether-winged Batt, dayes enimy ; The rueful! Strich, still waiting on the here ; The whistler shrill, tliat whoso heares doth dy ; The hellish " Harpyes, prophets of sad destiny. XXXVII. All those, and all that els does horror breed. About them flew, and fild their sayles with feare : Yet stayd they not, but forward did pro- ceed, Whiles th' one did row, and th' other stifly steare ; Till that at last the weather gan to cleare, And tlie faire land it selfe did playnly sheow. Said then the Palmer ; ' Lo ! where does appeare The sacred soile wliere all our perills grow. Therfore, Sir knight, your ready arms about you throw.' XXXVIII. He hearkned, and his arraes about him tooke, The whiles the nimble bote so well her sped. That with her crooked keele the land she strooke : Then forth the noble Guyon sallied. And his sage Palmer that him governed ; But th' other by his bote behind did stay. They marched fayrly forth, of nought yd red. Both firmely armd for every hard assay, With constancy and care, gainst daunger and dismay. Ere long they heard an hideous bellow- ing Of many beasts, that roard outrageously, As if that hungers poynt or Venus sting Had them enraged with fell surquedry: Yet nought they feard, but past on hardily. Until! they came in vew of those wilde beasts. CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 189 Who all attonce, gaping full greedily, And rearing fercely their upstaring crests, Ran towards to devoure those unexpected guests. XL. But soone as they approcht with deadly threat, The Palmer over them his staff e upheld, His mighty staffe, that could all charmes defeat. Eftesooues their stubborue corages were queld. And high advauuced crests downe meekely feld; Instead of fraying, they them selves did feare. And trembled as them passing they beheld : Such wondrous powre did in that staffe appeare. All monsters to subdew to him that did it beare. XLI. Of that same wood it fram'd was cun- ingly. Of which Caduceus whilome was made, Caduceus, the rod of Mercury, With which he wonts the Stygian realmes invade Through ghastly horror and eternall shade : Th' infernall feends with it he can ass wage, And Orcus tame, whome nothing can per- suade. And rule the Furyes when they most doe rage. Such vertue in his staffe had eke this Palmer sage. Thence passing forth, they shortly doe arryve Whereas the Bowre of Blisse was situate-; I A place pickt out by choyce of best alyve, I That natures worke by art can imitate : In which whatever in this worldly state Is sweete and pleasing unto living sense. Or that may dajnitest fantasy aggrate, Was poured forth with plentifull dis- pence. And made there to abound with lavish affluence. XLIII. Goodly it was enclosed rownd about, As well their entred guestes to keep within. As those unruly beasts to hold without ; Yet was the fence thereof but weake and thin: Nought feard theyr force that fortilage to win. But wisedomes powre, and temperaunces might, By wiiich the mightiest things efforced bin : And eke the gate was wrought of sub- staunce light. Rather for pleasure then for battery or fight. XLIV. Yt framed was of precious yvory, That seemd a worke of admirable witt; And therein all the famous history Of Jason and Medsea was ywritt; Her mighty charmes, her furious loving fitt; His goodly conquest of the golden fleece, His falsed fayth, and love too lightly fiitt; Th5 wondred Argo, which in venturous peece First through the Euxine seas bore all the flowr of Greece. Ye might have scene the frothy bil- lowes fry Under the ship as thorough them she went. That seemd the waves were into yvory, Or yvory into the waves were sent; And otherwhere the snowy substaunce sprent With vermeil, like the boyes blood therein shed, A piteous spectacle did represent; And otherwhiles, with gold besprinkeled, Yt seemd thenchaunted fiame which did Creusa wed. XLVI. All this and more might in that goodly gate Be red , that ever open stood to all Which thither came; but in the Porch there sate A comely personage of stature tall, And semblaunce pleasing, more then naturall. That travellers to him seemd to entize : His looser garment to the ground did fall, And flew about his heeles in wanton wize. Not fitt for speedy pace, or manly exer- cize. XLVII. They in that place him Genius did call : Not that celestiall powre, to whom the care 190 THE TAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Of life, and generation of all That lives, perteines in charge particu- lare, Who wondrous things concerning our welfare, And straunge phantomes doth lett us ofte foresee, And ofte of secret ill bids us beware : That is our Selfe, whom though we do not see, Yet each doth in him selfe it well per- ceive to bee. Therefore a God him sage Antiquity Did wisely make, and good Agdistes call ; But this same was to that quite contrary, The foe of life, that good envyes to all, That secretly doth us procure to fall Through guilefull semblants which he makes us see: He of this Gardin had the governall. And Pleasures porter was devizd to bee. Holding a staffe in hand for mere for- malitee. With diverse flowres he daintily was deckt, And strowed rownd about ; and by his side A mighty Mazer bowle of wine was sett, As if it had to him bene sacrifide. Wherewith all new-come guests he graty- fide: So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by; But he his ydle curtesie detide, And overthrew his bowle disdainfully, And broke his staffe with which he charmed semblants sly. Thus being entred, they behold arownd A large and spacious plaine, on every side Strowed with pleasauns; whose fayre grassy grownd Mantled with greene, and goodly beauti- fide With all the ornaments of Floraes pride, Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in scorne Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride Did decke her, and too lavishly adorne, When forth from virgin bowre she comes in th' early morne. Therewith the Heavens alwayes joviall Lookte on them lovely, still in stedfast state, Ne suffred storm e nor frost on them to fall. Their tender buds or leaves to violate ; Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate, T' afflict the creatures which therein did dwell ; But the milde ayre with season moderate Gently attempred, and disposd so well. That still it breathed forth sweet spirit and holesom smell : LII. More sweet and holesome then the pleasaunt hill Of Rhodope, on which the Nimphe that bore A gyaunt babe herselfe for griefe did kill ; Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore Fayre Daphne Phoebus hart with love did gore ; Or Ida, where the Gods lov'd to repayre, When ever they their heavenly bowres f orlore ; Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of Muses fayre ; Or Eden selfe, if ought with Eden mote compayre. LIU. Much wondred Guyon at the fayre aspect Of that sweet place, yet suffred no de- light To sincke into his sence, nor mind affect. But passed forth, and lookt still forward right, Brydling his will and maystering his might. Till that he came unto another gate ; No gate, but like one, being goodly dight With bowes and braunches, which did broad dilate Their clasping arraes in wanton wreath- ings intricate : LIV. So fashioned a Porch with rare device. Archt over head with an embracing vine, Whose bounches hanging downe seemd to entice All passers by to taste their lushious wine. And did them selves into their hands incline. As freely offering to be gathered ; Some deepe empurpled as the Hyacine, Some as the Rubine laughing sweetely red, Some like faire Emeraudes, not yet well ripened. LV. And them amongst some were of bur- nisht gold, CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 191 So made by art to beautify the rest, Which did themselves emongst the leaves enfold, As lurking from the vew of covetous guest, That the weake boughes, with so rich load opprest Did bow adowne as overburdened. Under that Porch a comely dame did rest Clad in fay re weedes but fowle disordered, And garments loose that seemd unmeet for womanhed. In her left hand a Cup of gold she held, And with her right the riper fruit did reach, Whose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse sweld, Into her cup she scruzd with daintie breach Of her fine fingers, without fowle em- peach. That so faire winepresse made the wine more sweet : Thereof. she usd to give to drinke to each. Whom passing by she happened to meet : It was her guise all Straungers goodly so to greet. LVII. So she to Guyon off red it to tast. Who, taking it out of her tender bond. The cup to ground did violently cast. That all in peeces it was broken fond. And with the liquor stained all the lond : Whereat Excesse exceedingly was wroth. Yet uo'te the same amend, ne yet with- stond, But suffered him to passe, all were she loth ; Who, nought regarding her displeasure, forward goth. There the most daintie Paradise on ground It selfe doth offer to his sober eye, In which all pleasures plenteously abownd, And none does others happinesse envye ; The painted flowres, the trees upshooting bye, The dales for shade, the hilles for breath- ing space. The trembling groves, the christall run- ning by, And, that which all faire workes doth most aggrace, The art which all that wrought appeared in no place. One would have thought, (so cunningly the rude And scorned partes were mingled with the fine) That nature had for wautonesse ensude Art, and that Art at nature did repine; So striving each th' other to undermine, Each did the others worke more beautify ; So diff'riiig both in willes agreed in fine: So all agreed, through sweete diversity, This Gardin to adorne with all variety. And in the midst of all a fountaine stood. Of richest substance that on earth might bee. So pure and shiny that the silver flood Through every channell running one might see ; Most goodly it with curious ymageree Was overwrought, and shapes of naked boyes. Of which some seemd with lively joUitee To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, Whylest others did them selves embay in liquid joyes. And over all of purest gold was spred A trayle of y vie in his native hew ; For the rich metall was so coloured, That wight who did not well avis'd it vew Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew: Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe. That themselves dipping in the silver dew Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe, Which drops of Christall seemd for wan- tones to weep. Infinit streames continually did well Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, The which into an ample laver fell, And shortly grew into so great quantitie, Tliat like a litle lake it seemd to bee ; Whose depth exceeded not three cubits bight. That through the waves one might the bottom see. All pav'd beneath with Jaspar shining bright, That seemd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright. 192 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. And all the margeut round about was sett With shady Laurell trees, thence to de- fend The sunny beames which on the billowes bett, And those which therein bathed mote offend. As Guyon hapned by the same to wend, Two naked Damzelles he therein espyde, Which therein bathing seemed to contend And wrestle wantonly, ne car'd to hyde Their dainty partes from vew of any which them eyd. LXIV. Sometimes the one would lift the other quight Above the waters, and then downe againe Her plong, as over-maystered by might, Where both awhile would covered re- maine, And each the other from to rise restrains ; The whiles their snowy limbes, as through a vele, So through the christall waves appeared plaine : Then suddeiuly both would themselves uuhele, And th' amarous sweet spoiles to greedy eyes revele. LXV. As that faire Starre, the messenger of morne. His deawy face out of the sea doth reare ; Or as the Cyprian goddesse, newly borne Of th' Ocean's fruitful! froth, did first appeare : Such seemed they, and so their yellow heare Christalline humor dropped downe apace. Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew him neare, And somewhat gan relent his earnest pace ; His stubborne brest gan secret pleasaunce to embrace. LXVI. The wanton Maidens, him espying, stood Gazing awhile at his unwonted guise ; Theu th' one her selfe low ducked in the flood, Abasht that her a straunger did avise; But thother rather higher did arise, And her two lilly paps aloft displayd, And all that might his melting hart en- tyse To her delights she unto him bewrayd : The rest hidd underneath him more de- sirous made. With that the other likewise up arose. And her faire lockes, which formerly were bowud Up in one knott, she low adowne did lose, Which flowing low and thick her cloth'd arownd, And th' yvorie in golden mantle gowud : So that faire spectacle from him was reft. Yet that which reft it no lesse faire was fownd. So hidd in lockes and waves from lookers theft, Nought but her lovely face she for his looking left. LXVIII. Withall she laughed, and she blusht withall, That blushing to her laughter gave more grace. And laughter to her blushing, as did fall. Now when they spyde the knight to slacke his pace Them to behold, and in his sparkling face The secrete signes of kindled lust appeare. Their wanton meriments they did en- creace. And to him beckned to approch more j neare, And shewd him many sights that corage cold could reare. LXIX. On which when gazing him the Palmer saw. He much rebukt those wandring eyes of his. And counseld well him forward thence did draw. Now are they come nigh to the Bowre of blis. Of her fond favorites so nam'd amis. When thus the Palmer : ' Now, Sir, well avise ; For here the end of all our traveill is : Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must sur- prise. Els she will slip away, and all our drift despise. LXX. Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a daintie eare. Such as attonce might not on living ground, CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 93 Save in this Paradise, be heard elsewhere : Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee ; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, wa- ters, all agree : The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheare- full shade '. Their notes unto the voice attempred ^ sweet; .1 Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made To th' instruments divine respondence meet; The silver sounding instruments did meet With the base murmure of the waters fall ; The waters fall with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call; The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. LXXII. There, whence that Musick seemed heard to bee. Was the faire Witch her selfe now solac- ing With a new Lover, whom, through sor- ceree And witchcraft, she from farre did thither bring : There she had him now laid aslombering In secret shade after long wanton joyes; Whilst round about them pleasauntly did sing Many faire Ladies and lascivious boyes. That ever mixt their song with light licen- tious toyes. LXXIII. And all that while right over him she hong With her false eyes fast fixed in his sight, As seeking medicine whence she was i stong, I Or greedily depasturing delight ; And oft inclining downe, with kisses light For feare of waking him, his lips bedcAvd, And through his humid eyes did sucke his spright, Quite molten into lust and pleasure lewd : Wherewith she sighed soft, as if his case she rewd. LXXIV. The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay : Ah ! see, whoso fayre thing doest faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day. Ah! see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe foorth with bashfuU modestee. That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may. Lo ! see soone after how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad dis- play; Lo! see soone after how she fades and falls away. So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the tlowre ; Ne more doth florish after first decay. That earst was sought to deck both bed and bow re Of many a lady', and many a Paramowre. Gather therefore the Rose whilest yet is prime, For Sonne comes age that will her pride deflowre ; Gather the Rose of love whilest yet is time, Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with equall crime. He ceast : and then gan all the quire of birdes Their diverse notes t'attune unto his lay. As in approvaunce of his pleasing wordes. The constant payre heard all that he did say, Yet swarved not, but kept their forward way Through many covert groves and thickets close. In which they creeping did at last display That wanton Lady Avith her lover lose, Wliose sleepie head she in her lap did soft dispose. Upon a bed of Roses she was layd. As faint through heat, or dight to pleas- ant sin ; And was arayd, or rather disarayd, All in a vele of silke and silver thin, That hid no whit her alablastor skin. But rather shewd more white, if more might bee : More subtile web Arachne cannot spin ; Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven 194 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book II. Of scorched deaw, do not in th' ayre more lightly flee. LXXVIII. Her snowy brest was bare to ready spoyle Of hungry eies, which n'ote therewith be fild; And yet, through languour of her late sweet toyle, Few drops, more cleare then Nectar. forth distild, That like pure Orient perles adowne it trild ; And her faire eyes, sweet smyling in delight, Moystened their fierie beames, with which she thrild Fraile harts, yet quenched not; like starry light, Which, sparckiing on the silent waves, does seeme more bright. LXXIX. The young man, sleeping by her, seemd to be Some goodly swayne of honorable place, That certes it great pitty was to see Him his nobility so fowle deface : A sweet regard and amiable grace, Mixed with manly sternesse, did appeare. Yet sleeping, in his well proportiond face; And on his tender lips the downy heare Did now but freshly spring, and silken blossoms beare. His warlike Armes, the ydle instru- ments Of sleeping praise, were hong upon a tree ; And his brave shield, full of old moni- ments, Was fowly ras't, that none the signes might see : Ne for them ne for honour cared hee, Ne ought that did to his advauncement tend ; But in lewd loves, and wastfull luxuree, His dayes, his goods, his bodie, he did spend : O horrible enchantment, that him so did blend ! LXXXI. The noble Elfe and careful! Palmer drew So nigh them, minding nought but lust- full game, That suddein forth they on them rusht, and threw A subtile net, which only for that same The skilfull Palmer formally did frame ; So held them under fast ; the whiles the rest Fled all away for feare of fowler shame. The faire Enchauntresse, so unwares opprest, Tryde all her arts and all her sleights thence out to wrest. LXXXII. And eke her lover strove, but all in vaine ; For, that same net so cunningly was wound, That neither guile nor force might it distraine. They tooke them both, and both them strongly bound In captive bandes, which they readie found : But her in chaines of adamant he tyde ; For nothing else might keepe her safe and sound : But Verdant (so he hight) he soone un- tyde, And counsell sage in steed thereof to him applyde. LXXXIII, But all those pleasaunt bowres, and Pallace brave, Guyon broke downe with rigour pitti- lesse ; Ne ought their goodly workmanship might save Them from the tempest of his wrathful- uesse. But that their blisse he turn'd to baleful- nesse. Their groves he feld; their gardins did deface ; Their arbers spoyle ; their Cabinets sup- presse ; Their banket houses burne; their build- ings race; And, of the fayrest late, now made the fowlest place. LXXXIV. Then led they her away, and eke that knight They with them led, both sorrowfull and sad. The way they came, the same retourn'd they right, Till they arrived where they lately had Charm'd those wild-beasts that rag'd with furie mad ; Which, now awaking, fierce at them gan As in their mistresse reskew whom they lad; But them the Palmer soone did pacify. CANTO XII.] THE FAERIE QUEENE, 195 Then Guyon askt, what meant those beastes which there did ly? Sayd he ; ' These seeming beasts are men indeed, Whom this Enchauntresse hath trans- formed thus ; Whylome her lovers, which her lustes did feed, Now turned into figures hideous. According to their mindes like mon- struous.' * Sad end,' (quoth he) 'of life intemper- ate, And mourneful meed of joyes delicious! But, Palmer, if it mote thee so aggrate, Let them returned be unto their former state.' LXXXVI. Streight way he with his vertuous staffe them strooke, And streight of beastes they comely men became ; Yet being men they did unmanly looke, And stared ghastly; soi.. fr: shame, And some for wru.th to see iHe Dame: But one above the rest in spec: That had an hog beone late, ii ■ by name, Repyned greatly, and did him That had from hoggish n. brcv.j^hc to DRtiirall. Saide Guyon ; ' See the min ^ man, That hath so soone forgot m; ■■- Of his creation, when he lif* br That now he chooseth with \ W-. To be a beast, and lacke inte.l'L To whom the Palmer thus : hill kinde Delightes in filth and fowle inc* Let Gryll be Gryll, and have hi minde ; But let us hence depart whiles serves and winde.' THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENE CONTAv:Ui>!u THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS, OR OF CHASTITY. It falls me here to write of Chastity, The fayrest vertue, far above the rest: For which what ueedes me fetch from Faery Forreiue ensaraples it to have exprest ? Sith it is shrined in my Soveraines brest, And formd so lively in each perfect part, That to all Ladies, which have it protest. Need but behold the pourtraict of her hart ; If pourtrayd it might bee by any living art. II. But living art may not least part ex- presse, Nor life-resembling pencill it can paynt : All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles, His dfedale hand would faile and greatly faynt, And her perfections with his error taynt : Ne Poets witt, that passeth Painter farre In picturing the parts of beauty daynt, So hard a workemanship adventure darre, For fear, through want of words, her ex- cellence to marre. How then shall I, Apprentice to the skill That whilome in divinest wits did rayne, Presume so high to stretch mine humble quill ? Yet now my luckelesse lott doth me con- strayne Hereto perforce. But, O dredd Sover- ayne! Thus far-forth pardon, sith that choicest witt Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure playne. That I in colourd showes may shadow itt, And antique praises unto present persons fitt. But if in living colours, and right hew, Thy selfe thou covet to see pictured, Who can it doe more lively, or more trew. Then that sweete verse, with Nectar sprinckeled. In which a gracious servaunt pictured His Cynthia, his heavens fayrest light? That with his melting sweetnes ravished, And with the wonder of her beames bright. My sences lulled are in slomber of delight. But let that same delitious Poet lend A little leave unto a rustieke Muse To sing his mistresse prayse ; and let him mend, If ought amis her liking may abuse : Ne let his fayrest Cynthia refuse In mirrours more then one her selfe to see; But either Gloriana let her chuse. Or in Belphcebe fashioned to bee ; In th' one her rule, in th' other her rare chastitee. CANTO I. Guyon encountreth Britomart : Fayre Floriuiell is chaced : Duessaes traines and Malecas- taes champions are defaced. The famous Briton Prine*. and Faery knight, After long wayes and perilous paines en- dur'd. Having their weary limbes to perfect plight 1 96 CANTO I,] THE FAERIE QUEENE. ^97 Restord, and soi-y wounds right well re- cur 'd, Of the faire Alma greatly were procur'd To make there lenger sojourne and abode ; But when thereto they might not be allur'd, From seeking praise and deeds of armes abrode, They courteous conge tooke, and forth together yode. But the captiv'd Acrasia he sent, Because of traveill long, a nigher way, With a strong gard, all reskew to prevent, And her to Faery court safe to convay ; That her for witnes of his hard assay Unto his Faery Queene he might present : But he him selfe betooke another way, To make more triall of his hardiment. And seek adventures as he with Prince Arthure went. Long so they travelled through waste- full wayes, Where daungers dwelt, and perils most did wonne, To hunt for glory and renowmed prayse. Full many Couutreyes they did overronue. From the uprising to the setting Sunne, And many hard adventures did atchieve ; Of all the which they honour ever wonne, Seeking the weake oppressed to relieve, And to recover right for such as wrong did grieve. IV. At last, as through an open plaine they yode, They spide a knight that towards pricked fay re ; And him beside an aged Squire there rode, That seemd to couch under his shield three-square, As if that agebadd him that burden spare, And yield it those that stouter could it wield. He them espying gan him selfe prepare. And on his arme addresse his goodly shield That bore a Lion passant in a golden field. Which seeing, good Sir Guyon deare besought The Prince of grace to let him ronne that turne. He graunted: then the Faery quickly raught His poynant speare, and sharply gan to spurne His fomy steed, whose fiery feete did burne The verdant gras a^ he thereon did tread ; Ne did the other batke his foote returne. But fiercely forward came withouten dread, And bent his dreadful speare against the others head. VI. They beene ymett, and both theyr points arriv'd ; But Guyon drove so furious and fell, That seemd both shield and plate it would have riv'd ; Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell. But made him stagger, as he were not well : But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware, Nigh a speares length behind his crouper fell; Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare. That mischievous mischaunce his life and limbs did spare. Great shame and sorrow of that fall he tooke ; For never yet, sith warlike armes he bore And shivering speare in bloody field first shooke, He fownd him selfe dishonored so sore. Ah ! gentlest knight, that ever armor bore. Let not thee grieve dismounted to have beene. And brought to grownd that never wast before ; For not thy fault, but secret powre un- seene : That speare enchaunted was which layd thee on the greene. But weenedst thou what wight thee overthrew. Much greater griefe and shamefuller re- grett For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst renew, That of a single damzell thou wert mett On equall plaine, and there so hard be- sett: Even the famous Britomart it was. Whom straunge adventure did from Brit- ay ne sett r To seeke her lover (love far sought alas!) Whose image shee had seene in Venus looking glas. IX. Full of disdainefuU wrath he fierce up rose ^ THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. For to revenge that fowls reprochefuU shame, And snatching his bright sword began to close With her on foot, and stoutly forward came : Dye rather would he then endure that same. Which when his Palmer saw, he gan to feare His toward perill, and untoward blame, Which by that new rencounter he should reare ; For death sate on the point of that en- chauuted speare : And hasting towards him gan fayre perswade Not to provoke misfortune, nor to weene His speares default to mend with cruell blade ; For by his mightie Science he had scene The secrete vertue of that weapon keene, That mortall puissaunce mote not with- stond. Nothing on earth mote alwaies happy beene : Great hazard were it, and adventure fond. To loose long gotten honour with one evill bond. XI. By such good meanes he him discoun- selled From prosecuting his revenging rage : And eke the Prince like treaty handeled. His wrathf nil will with reason to aswage ; And laid the blame, not to his carriage. But to his starting steed that swarv'd asyde. And to the ill purveyaunce of his page. That had his furnitures not firmly tyde. So is his angry corage fayrly pacifyde. XII. Thus reconcilement was betweene them kuitt. Through goodly temperaunce and affec- tion chaste ; And either vowd with all their power and witt To let not others honour be defaste Of friend or foe, who ever it embaste ; Ne amies to beare against the others syde : In which accord the Prince was also plaste. And with that golden chaine of concord tyde. So goodly all agreed they forth yfere did ryde. O! goodly usage of those antique tymes. In which the sword was servaunt unto right ; When not for malice and contentious crymes, But all for prayse, and proofe of manly might, The martiall brood accustomed to fight: Then honour was the meed of victory. An d yet the vanquished had no despight. Tet later age that noble use envy, Vyle rancor to avoid and cruel surquedry. Long they thus travelled in friendly wise. Through countreyes waste, and eke well edifyde, Seeking adventures hard, to exerci.se Their puissaunce, whylome full dernly tryde. At length they came into a forest wyde. Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sownd. Full griesly seemd : Therein they long did ryde. Yet tract of living creature none they fownd, Save Beares, Lyons, and Buls, which romed them arownd. All suddenly out of the thickest brush, Upon a milkwhite Palfrey all alone, A goodly Lady did foreby them rush. Whose face did seeme as cleare as Chris- tall stone. And eke, through feare, as white as whales bone : Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold, And all her steed with tinsell trappings shone. Which fledd so fast that nothing mote him hold, And scarse them leasure gave her passing to behold. Still as she fiedd her eye she backward threw. As fearing evill that poursewd her fast ; And her faire yellow locks behind her flew, Loosely disperst with puff of every blast : All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispredd, y6 CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 199 At sight whereof the people stand aghast ; But the sage wisard telles, as he has redd, That it importunes death and dolefull dreryhedd. So as they gazed after her a whyle, Lo! where a griesly foster forth did rush, Breathing out beastly lust her to defyle : His tyreling Jade he fiersly forth did push Through thicke and thin, both over banck and bush, In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke. That from his gory sydes the blood did gush. Large were his limbes, and terrible his looke. And in his clownish hand a sharp bore speare he shooke. Which outrage when those gentle knights did see. Full of great envy and fell gealosy They stayd not to avise who first should bee. But all spurd after, fast as they mote fly, To reskew her from shamefuU villany. The Prince and Guyon equally bylive Her selfe purse wd, in hope to win thereby Most goodly meede, the fairest Dame alive : But after the foule foster Timias did strive. The whiles faire Britomart, whose con- stant mind Would not so lightly follow beauties chace, Ne reckt of Ladies Love, did stay be- hynd, And them awayted there a certaine space, To weet if they would turne backe to that place ; But when she saw them gone she forward went, As lay her journey, through that perlous Pace, With ^itedfast .corage and stout hardi- raent : Ne evil thing she feard, ne evill thing she ment. XX. At last, as nigh out of the wood she came, A stately Castle far away she spyde. To which her steps directly she did frame. That Castle was most goodly edifyde, And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest syde: But faire before the gate a spatious playne, Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden wyde. On which she saw six knights, that did darrayne Fiers battaill against one with cruell might and mayne. Mainely they all attonce upon him laid. And sore beset on every side arownd. That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet nought dismaid, Ne ever to them yielded foot of grownd. All had he lost much blood through many a wownd, But stoutly dealt his blowes, and every way, To which he turned in his wrathfull stownd. Made them recoile, and fly from dredd decay, That none of all the six before him durst assay. Like dastard Curres that, having at a bay The salvage beast embost in wearie chace. Dare not adventure on the stubborne pray, Ne byte before, but rome from place to place To get a snatch when turned is his face. In such distresse and doubtf ull jeopardy When Britomart him saw, she ran apace Unto his reskew, and with earnest cry Badd those same six forbeare that single enimy. XXIII. But to her cry they list not lenden eare, Ne ought the more their raightie strokes surceasse. But gathering him rownd about more neare, Their direfuU rancour rather did en- ci-easse ; Till that she rushing through the thickest preasse Perforce disparted their compacted gyre. And soone compeld to hearken unto peace. Tho gan she my Idly of them to iuquyre 200 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book hi. The cause of their disseution and out- rageous yre. Whereto that smgle knight did answere frame : ' These six would me enforce by oddes of might To chaunge my liefe, and love another Dame; That death me liefer were then such despight, So unto wrong to yield my wrested right : For I love one, the truest one on grownd, Ne list me chaunge ; she th' Errant Dani- zell bight ; For whose deare sake full many a bitter stownd I have endurd, and tasted many a bloody wownd.' XXV. * Certes,' (said she) ' then beene ye sixe to blame, To weene your wrong by force to justify ; For knight to leave his Lady were great shame That faithfull is, and better were to dy. All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamy. Then losse of love to him that loves but one: Ne may love be compeld by maistery; For soone as maistery comes sweet Love auone Taketh his nimble winges, and soone away is gone.' XXVI. Then spake one of those six ; ' There dwelleth here Within this castle wall a Lady fay re. Whose soveraine beautie hath no living pere; Thereto so bounteous and so debonayre. That never any mote with her compayre : She hath ordaind this law, which we approve. That every knight which doth this way repayre, In case he have no Lady nor no love, Shall doe unto her service, never to re- move: XXVII. ' But if he have a Lady or a Love, Then must he her forgoe with fowle de- fame, Or els with us by dint of sword approve, That she is fairer then our fairest Dame ; As did this knight, before ye hither came.' ' Perdy,' (said Britomart) ' tlie choise is hard ; But what reward had he that over- came ? ' ' He should advaunced bee to high re- gard,' (Said they) ' and have our Ladies love for his reward. * Therefore aread. Sir, if thou have a love.' 'Love hath I sure,' (quoth she) 'but Lady none; Yet will I not fro mine own love remove, Ne to your Lady will I service done. But wreake your wronges wrought to this knight alone, And prove his cause.' With that, her mortall speare She mightily aveutred towards one. And downe him smot ere well aware he weare ; Then to the next she rode, and downe the next did beare. XXIX. Ne did she stay till three on ground she layd That none of them himselfe could reare againe : The fourth was by that other knight dis- may d, All were he wearie of his former paine ; That now there do but two of six re- maine. Which two did yield before she did them smight. 'Ah!' (said she then) 'now may ye all see plaine. That truth is strong, and trew love most of might. That for his trusty servaunts doth so strongly fight.' ' Too well we see,' (saide they) ' and prove too well Our faulty weakenes, and your match- lesse might : Forthy, faire Sir, yours be the Damozell, Which by her owne law to your lot doth light. And we your liegemen faith unto you plight.' So underneath her feet their swofJs they mard, And, after, her besought, well as they might. To enter in and reape the dew reward. She graunted ; and then in they all to- gether far'd. CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 20I Long were it to describe the goodly frame, And stately port of Castle Joyeous, (For so that Castle hight by commuu name) Where they were eutertayud with cour- teous And comely glee of many gratious Faire Ladies, aud of manj' a gentle knight, Who, through a Chamber long and spa- cious, Eftsoones them brought unto their Ladies sight, That of them cleeped was the Lady of Delight. XXXII. But for to tell the sumptuous aray Of that great chamber should be labour lost; For living wit, I weene, cannot display The roiall riches and exceeding cost Of every pillour and of every post, Which all of purest bullion framed were. And with great perles and pretious stones embost ; That the bright glister of their beanies cleare Did sparckle forth great light, and glori- ous did appeare. So These stranger knights, through pass- ing, forth were led Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee And rich purveyance might uneath be red ; Mote Princes place be seeme so deckt to bee. Which stately manner whenas they did see, The image of superliuous riotize, Exceeding much the state of meane de- gree. They greatly wondred whence .so sumptu- ous guize Might be maintaynd, and each gan diverse- ly devize. xxxiv. The wals were round about appareileil j With costly clothes of Arras and of Tor. re : xxxviii. In which with cunning hand was pour-} Lo! where beyond he lyeth langnishinc trahed I Deadly engored of a great wilde Bore ; xxxv. Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she Entyst the Boy, as well that art she knew^ And wooed him her Paramoure to bee. Now making girlonds of each flowre that grew. To crowne his golden lockes with honour dew ; Now leading him into a secret shade From his Beauperes, and from bright heavens vew. Where him to sleepe she gently would perswade. Or bathe him in a fountaine by some covert glade : And whilst he slept sho over him would spred Her mantle, colour'd like the starry skyes. And her soft arme lay underneath his lied. And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes ; And whilst he bath'd with her two crafty spyes She secretly would search each daintie lim, And throw into the well sAveet Rose- mary es, And fragrant violets, and Paunces trim ; And ever with sweet Nectar she did sprinkle him. xxxvii. did he steale his heedelesse hart away, And joy ' his love in secret anespyde: But for she saw him bent tu cruell play, To hu^ I the salvage beast in forrest wyde. Dread lull of dauDgcr tliat mote him be- tyde, She oft and oft adviz'd him to refraine Fr< iu chase of greater beastes, whose b? iitish pryde ^lotebreede liim ^cath unwares: but all iu vaine ; For who can shun the chance that dest'ny doth ordaine? The love of Venus and her Paramoi The fayre Adonis, turned to a flov r A worke of rare device and wondr First did it shew the bitter balefi' ' i AVhich her essayd with many a '' When first her tender hart w beautie smit. . it . c ; < wit. owre, iit fit, ;li his And by his side the Goddesse groveling B'^akes for him endlesse mone, and ever- more \.'ith her soft garment wipes away the gore Which staynes his snowy >kin with hate- full hew: 202 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. But, when she saw no helpe might him restore, Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew, AVhich in that cloth was wrought as if it lively grew. So was that chamber clad in goodly wize : And rownd about it many beds were dight, As whylome was the antique worldes guize, Some for untimely ease, some for delight, As pleased them to use that use it might ; And all was full of Damzels and of Squyres, Dauncing and reveling both day and night. And swimming deepe in sensuall desyres ; And Cupid still emongest them kindled lustfull fyres. XL. And all the while sweet Musicke did divide Her looser notes with Lydian harmony ; And all the while sweet birdes thereto applide Their daiutie layes and dulcet melody, Ay caroling of love and jollity, That wonder was to heare their trim con- sort. Which when those knights beheld, with scornefull eye They sdeigned such lascivious disport. And loath'd the loose demeanure of that wanton sort. XLI. Thence they were brought to that great Ladies vew, Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous bed That glistred all with gold and glorious shew. As the proud Persian Queenes accus- tomed. She seemd a woman of great bountihed. And of rare beautie, saving that askaunce Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed. Did roll too lightly, and too often glaunce, Without regard of grace or comely ame- naunce. XLn. Long worke it were, and'needlesse, co devize Their goodly entertainement and great glee. She caused them be led in courteous wize Into a bowre, disarmed for to be. And cheared well with wine and spiceree : The Redcrosse Knight was soon disarmed there ; But the brave Mayd would not disarmed bee. But onely veuted up her umbriere. And so did let her goodly visage to appere. As when fayre Cynthia, in darkesome night. Is in a noyous cloud enveloped. Where she may finde the substance thin and light, Breakes forth her silver beames, and her bright bed Discovers to the world discomfited : Of the poore traveller that went astray With thousand blessings she is heried. Such was the beautie and the shining ray, With which fayre Britomart gave light unto the day. And eke those six, which lately with her fought. Now were disarmd, and did them selves present Unto her vew, and company unsought; For they all seemed courteous and gent, And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent, Which had them traynd in all eivilitee, And goodly taught to tilt and turnament : Now were they liegmen to this Ladie free, And her knights service ought, to hold of her in fee. XLV. The first of them by name Gardante hight, A jolly person, and of comely vew; The second was Parlante, a bold knight ; And next to him Jocante did ensew ; Basciante did him selfe most courteous shew ; But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and keene ; And yett in amies Noctante greater grew : All were faire knights, and goodly well beseene ; But to faire Britomart they all but sha- dowes beene. For shee was full of amiable grace And manly terror mixed therewithall ; That as the one stird up affections bace. So th' other did mens rash desires apall. And hold them backe that would in error fall : CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 203 As hee that hath espide a vermeill Rose, To which sharp thornes and breres the way forstall, Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose, But wishing it far off his ydle wish doth lose. XLVII. Whom when the Lady saw so faire a wight, All ignorant of her contrary sex, (For shee her weend a fresh and lusty knight,) Shee greatly gan enamoured to wex And with value thoughts her falsed fancy vex : Her fickle hart conceived hasty fyre, Like sparkes of fire which fall in sclender Hex, That shortly brent into extreme desyre. And ransackt all her veines with passion en tyre. XLVITI. Eftsoones shee grew to great impa- tience, And into termes of open outrage brust, That plaine discovered her incontinence ; Ne reckt shee who her meaning did mis- trust, For she was given all to fleshly lust, And poured forth in sensuall delight. That all regard of shame she had discust. And meet respect of honor putt to flight : So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a loathly sight. XLIX. Faire Ladies, that to love captived arre. And chaste desires doe nourish in your mind, Let not her fault your sweete affections marre, ]Ne blott the bounty of all womankind, 'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find : Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds : For this was not to love, but lust, iuclind ; For love does alwaies bring forth boun- teous deeds, And in each gentle hart desire of honor breeds. L. Nought so of love this looser Dame did skill. But as a cole to kindle fleshly flame. Giving the bridle to her wanton will. And treading under foote her honest name: Such love is hate, and such desire is shame. Still did she rove at her with crafty glaunce Of her false eies, that at her hart did ayme. And told her meaning in her counte- naunce ; But Britomart dissembled it with igno- raunce. LI. Supper was shortly dight, and downe they satt; Where they were served with all sump- tuous fare. Whiles fruitfull Ceres and Lyseus fatt Pourd out their plenty without spight or spare. Nought wanted there that dainty was and rare. And aye the cups their bancks did over- flow; And aye betweene the cups she did pre- pare Way to her love, and secret darts did throw ; But Britomart would not such guilfull message know. So, when they slaked had the fervent heat Of appetite with meates of every sort. The Lady did faire Britomart entreat Her to disarme, and with delightfull sport To loose her warlike limbs and strong effort ; But when shee mote not thereunto be wonne, (For shee her sexe under that straunge purport Did use to hide, and plaine apparaunce shonne) In playner wise to tell her grievaunce she begonne. And all attonce discovered her desire With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, and piteous griefe, The outward sparkes of her inhuming fire; Which spent in vaine, at last she told her briefe. That but if she did lend her short reliefe And doe her comfort, she mote algates dye: But the chaste damzell, that had never priefe Of such malengine and fine forgerye, Did easely beleeve her strong extremitye. 204 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book hi. Full easy was for her to have beliefe, AVho by self-feeliug of her feeble sexe, And by loug trlall of the inward griefe Wherewith imperious love her hart did vexe, Cuuld judge what paines doe loving harts perplexe. Who meanes no guile be guiled soonest shall, And to faire semblaunce doth light faith annexe : The bird that knowes not the false fowlers call, Into his hidden nett full easely doth fall. LV. Forthy she would not in discourteise wise Scorne the faire offer of good will pro- fest; For great rebuke it is love to despise, Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request, But with faire counteuaunce, as beseemed best. Her entertaynd : nath'lesse shee inly deemd Her love too light, to wooe a wandring guest; Which she misconstruing, thereby es- teem d That from like inward fire that outward smoke had steemd. Therewith a while she her flit fancy fedd. Till she mote winne fit time for her de- sire; But yet her wound still inward freshly bledd. And through her bones the false instilled fire Did spred it selfe, and venime close in- spire. Tho were the tables taken all away ; And every knight, and every gentle Squire, Gan choose his Dame with Bascbnmio gay, With whom he ment to make his sport and courtly play. LVII. Some fell to daunce, some fel to haz- ard ry, Some to make love, some to make mery- ment, As diverse witts to diverse things apply ; And all the while faire Malecasta bent Her crafty engins to her close intent. By this th' eternall lampes, where with high Jove Doth light the lower world, where halfe y spent. And the moist daughters of huge Atlas strove Into the Ocean deepe to drive their weary drove. LVIII. High time it seemed then for everie wight Them to betake unto their kindly rest : Eftesoones long waxen torches weren light Unto their bowres to guy den every guest. Tho, when the Briton esse saw all the rest Avoided quite, she gan her selfe despoile. And safe committ to her soft fethered nest ; Wher through long watch, and late dales weary toile. She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile. Now whenas all the world in silence deepe Yshrowded was, and every mortall wight Was drowned in the depth of deadly sleepe ; Faire Malecasta, whose engrieved spright Could find no rest in such perplexed plight. Lightly arose out of her wearie bed. And, under the blacke vele of guilty Night, Her with a scarlott mantle covered That was with gold and Ermines faire enveloped. Then panting softe, and trembling every joynt, Her fearfull feete towards the bowre she mov'd, Where she for secret purpose did appoynt To lodge the warlike maide, unwisely ioov'd ; And, to her bed approching, first she proov'd Whether she slept or wakte: with her softe hand She softely felt if any member moov'd, And lent her wary eare to understand If any puffe of breath or sigue of seuce shee fond. CANTO I.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 205 Which whenas none she fond, with easy shiite, For feare least her unwares she should abrayd, Th' embroder'd quilt she lightly up did lifte, And by her side her selfe she softly layd, Of every finest fingers touch affrayd ; Ne any noise she made, ne word she spake, But inly sigh'd. At last the royall Mayd Out of her quiet slomber did awake, And chaunged her weary side the better ease to take. Where feeling one close couched by her side, She lightly lept out of her filed bedd, And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride The loathed leachour. But the Dame, halfe dedd Through suddein feare and ghastly dreri- hedd, Did shrieke alowd, that through the hous it rong, And the whole family, therewith ad redd. Rashly out of their rouzed couches sprong, And to the troubled chamber all in arms did throng. LXIJI. And those sixe knights, that ladies Champions And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the stownd. Halfe armd and halfe unarmed, with them attons: Where when confusedly they came, they fownd Their lady lying on the sencelesse grownd : On thother side they saw the warlike Mayd Al in her snow-white smocke, with locks unbownd, Threatning the point of her avenging blaed ; That with so troublous terror they were all dismayd. LXIV. About their Ladye first they flockt arownd ; Whom having laid in comfortable couch, Shortly they reard out of her frosen swownd ; And afterwardes they gan with fowle reproch To stirre up strife, and troublous con- tecke broch: But by ensample of the last dayes losse. None of them rashly durst to her ap- proch, Ne in so glorious spoile themselves em- bosse : Her succourd eke the Champion of the bloody Crosse. LXV. But one of those sixe knights. Gar- dan te hight, Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene. Which forth he sent, with felonous de- spight And fell intent, against the virgin sheene : The mortall Steele stayd not till it was scene To gore her side ; yet was the wound not deepe, But lightly rased her soft silken skin. That drops of purple blood there out did weepe, Which did her lilly smock with staines of vermeil steep. LXVI. Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at them flew, And with her flaming sword about her layd. That none of them foule mischiefe could eschew. But with her dreadfuU strokes were all dismayd : Here, there, and every where, about her swayd Her wrathfuU Steele, that none mote it abyde ; And eke the Redcrosse knight gave her good ayd. Ay joyniiig foot to foot, and syde to syde; That in short space their foes they have quite terrifyde. LXVII. Tho, whenas all were put to shamefull flight. The noble Britomartis her arayd, And her bright armes about her body dight. For nothing would she lenger there be stayd. Where so loose life, and so ungentle trade, Was usd of knightes and Ladies seeming gent: So earely, ere the grosse Earthes gryesy shade Was all disperst out of the firmament, They tooke their steeds, and forth upon their journey went. 206 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [BOOK III. CANTO II. The Redcrosse knight to Britomart Describeth Artegall : The wondrous myrrhour, by which she lu love with him did fall. Here have I cause in men just blame to find, That in their proper praise too partiall bee, And not indifferent to woman kind. To whom no share in armes and chevalree They doe impart, ne maken memoree Of their brave gestes and prowesse mar- tiall : Scarse do they spare to one, or two, or three, Rowme in their writtes ; yet the same writing small Does all their deedes deface, and dims their glories all. II. But by record of antique times I finde That wemen wont in warres to beare most sway. And to all great exploites them selves in- clind. Of which they still the girlond bore away ; Till envious Men, fearing their rules de- cay, Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their liberty : Yet sith they warlike armes have laide away. They have exceld in artes and pollicy, That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t'envy. III. Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent. Be thou, faire Britomart, whose prayse I wryte ; But of all wisedom bee thou precedent, O soveraine Queene! whose prayse I would endyte, Endite I would as dewtie doth excyte ; But ah! my rymes too rude and rugged arre. When in so high an object they do lyte. And, striving fit to make, I feare, doe marre : Thy selfe thy prayses tell, and make them knowen farre. She, travelling with Guyon, by the way Of sondry thinges faire purpose gan to find. T'abridg their journey long, and lingring day; Mongst which it fell into that Fairies mind To aske this Briton Maid, what uncouth wind Brought her into those partes, and what inquest Made her dissemble her disguised kind ? Faire Lady she him seenid, like Lady drest. But fairest knight alive, when armed was her brest. V. Thereat she sighing softly had no powre To vspeake a while, ne ready auswere make ; But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter stowre. As if she had a fever fitt, did quake. And every daintie limbe with horrour shake ; And ever and anone the rosy red Flasht through her face, as it had beene a flake Of lightning through bright heven ful- mined : At last, the passion past, she thus him answered. VI. ' Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from the hnwre I taken was from nourses tender pap, I have been trained up in warlike stowre. To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap The warlike ryder to his most mishap : Sithence I loathed have my life to lead, As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap. To finger the fine needle and nyce thread, Me lever were with point of foemans speare be dead. ' All my delight on deedes of armes is sett, To hunt out perilles and adventures hard, By sea, by land, where so they may be mett, Onely for honour and for high regard, Without respect of richesse or reward: For such intent into these partes I came. CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 207 Withouten compasse or witliouten card, Far fro my native soyle, that is by name The greater Brytayue, here to seek for praise and fame. VIII. ' Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery lond Doe many famous knightes and Ladies wonne, And many straunge adventures to bee fond, Of which great worth and worship may be wonne ; Which to prove, I this voyage have be- goune. But mote I weet of you, right courteous knight, Tydings of one that hath unto me donne Late foule dishonour and reprochfuU spight. The which I seeke to wreake, and Arthe- gall he hight.' The worde gone out she backe againe would call, As her repenting so to have missayd. But that he, it uptaking ere the fall. Her shortly answered : ' Faire martiall Mayd, Certes ye misavised beene t'upbrayd A gentle knight with so uuknightly blame ; For, weet ye well, of all that ever playd At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game. The noble Arthegall hath ever borne the name. X. ' Forthy great wonder were it, if such shame Should ever enter in his bounteous thought. Or ever doe that mote deserven blame : The noble corage never weeneth ought That may unworthy of it selfe be thought. Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well aware. Least that too farre ye have your sorrow sought : You and your countrey both I wish wel- fare, And honour both ; for each of other wor- thy are.' XI. • The royall Maid woxe inly wondrous glad, To heare her Love so highly magnifyde ; And joyd that ever she affixed had Her hart on knight so goodly glorifyde. How ever finely she it faind to hyde. The loving mother, that nine monethes did beare In the deare closett of her painefull syde Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare. Doth not so much rejoyce as she rejoyced theare. But to occasion him to further talke. To feed her humor with his pleasing style. Her list in stryfull termes with him to balke. And thus replyde : ' How ever. Sir, ye fyle Your courteous tongue his prayses to compyle, It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort. Such as ye have him boasted , to beguyle A simple maide, and worke so hainous tort. In shame of knighthood, as I largely can report. XIII. ' Let bee therefore my vengeaunce to disswade, And read where I that faytour false may find.' ' Ah ! but if reason faire might you per- swade To slake your wrath, and mollify your mind,' (Said he) ' perhaps ye should it better find : For bardie thing it is, to weene by might That man to hard conditions to bind. Or ever hope to match in equall fight. Whose prowesse paragone saw never liv- ing wight. ' Ne soothlich is it easie for to read Where now on earth, or how, he may be f ownd ; For he ne wonneth in one certeine stead. But restlesse walketh all the world arownd, Ay doing thinges that to his fame re- downd. Defending Ladies cause and Orphans right, Whereso he heares that any doth con- fownd Them comfortlesse through tyranny or might : So is his soveraine honour raisde to hevens hight.' XV. His feeling wordes her feeble sence much pleased. And softly sunck into her molten hart : Hart that is inly hurt is greatly eased With hope of thing that may allegge his smart ; For pleasing wordes are like to Magick art, 208 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. That doth the charmed Snake in slomber lay. Such secrete ease felt gentle Britomart, Yet list the same efforce with faind gaine- say; So dischord ofte in Musick makes the sweeter lay : — And sayd ; ' Sir knight, these ydle termes forbeare ; And, sith it is uneath to finde his haunt, Tell me some markes by which he may appeare, If chaunce I him encounter paravaunt ; For perdy one shall other slay, or daunt : What shape, what shield, what armes, what steed, what stedd, And what so else his person most may vaunt ? ' All which the Redcrosse knight to point aredd, And him in everie part before her fash- ioned. XVII. Yet him in everie part before she knew. However list her now her knowledge fayne, Sith him whylome in Britayne she did vew. To her revealed in a mirrhour playne ; Whereof did grow her first engraffed payne, Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did taste, That but the fruit more sweetnes did con- tayne, Her wretched dayes in dolour she mote waste. And yield the pray of love to lothsome death at last. XVIII. By straunge occasion she did him be- hold, And much more straungely gan to love his sight. As it in bookes hath written beene of old. In Deheubarth, that now South-wales is bight. What time king Ryence raign'd and dealed right. The great Magitien Merlin had deviz'd. By his deepe science and hell-dreaded might, A looking glasse, right wondrously \ aguiz'd, 'VV'hose vertues through the wyde worlde soone were solemniz'd. It vertue had to shew in perfect sight Whatever thing was in the world con- taynd, Betwixt the lowest earth and hevens bight. So that it to the looker appertaynd : Whatever foe had wrought, or frend had faynd, Therein discovered was, ne ought mote pas, Ne ought in secret from the same re- maynd ; Forthy it round and hollow shaped was. Like to the world itselfe, and seemd a world of glas. XX. Who wonders not, that reades so won- derous worke ? But who does wonder, that has red the Towre Wherein th' Aegyptian Phao long did lurke From all mens vew, that none might her discoure, Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre ? Great Ptolomaee it for his lemans sake Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre, And also it impregnable did make; Yet when his love was false he with a peaze it brake. XXI. Such was the glassy globe that Merlin made. And gave unto king Ryence for his gard, That never foes his kingdome might in- vade. But he it knew at home before lie hard Tydings thereof, and so them still debar 'd. It was a famous Present for a Prince, Aud worthy worke of infinite reward. That treasons could bewray, and foes con- vince : Happy this Realme, had it remayned ever since! XXII. One day it fortnned fayre Britomart Into her fathers closet to repay re ; For nothing he from her reserv'd apart, Being his onely daughter and his hayre ; Where when she had espyde that mirrhour fayre. Her selfe awhile therein she vewd in vaine : Tho, her avizing of the vertues rare Which thereof spoken were, she gan againe CANTO II.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 209 Her to bethiuke of that mote to her selfe pertaiue. XXIII, But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts Imperious Love hath highest set his throne, And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts Oi them that to him buxome are and prone : So thought this Mayd (as maydens use to done) AVhom fortune for her husband would allot : Not that she lusted after any one, For she was pure from blame of sinfuU blott; Yet wist her life at last must lincke in that same knot. XXIV. Eftsoones there was presented to her eye A comely knight, all arm'd in complete wize, Through whose bright ventayle, lifted up on hye, His manly face, that did his foes agrize, And f rends to termes of gentle truce entize, Lookt foorth, as Phoebus face out of the east Betwixt two shady mountaynes doth arize : Portly his person was, and much increast Through his Heroicke grace and honor- able gest. XXV. His crest was covered with a couchant Hownd, And all his armour seemd of antique mould, But wondrous massy and assured sownd, And round about yf retted all with gold. In which there written was, with cyphres old, Achilles armes, lohich Arthegall did win^ And on his shield enveloped sevenfold He bore a crowned little Ermelin, That deckt the azure field with her fayre pouldred skin. XXVI. The Damzell well did. vew his Person- age And liked well, ne further fastned not. But went her way ; ne her unguilty age Did weene, unwares, that her unlucky lot Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot. Of hurt unwist most daunger doth re- dound ; But the false Archer, which that arrow shot So slyly that she did not feele the wound. Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse wofull stound. XXVII. Thenceforth the fether in her lofty crest. Ruffed of love, gan lowly to availe ; And her prowd portaunce and her princely gest. With which she earst tryumphed, now did quaile : Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies fraile, She woxe ; yet wist she nether how, nor why. She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did aile. Yet wist she was not well at ease perdy ; Yet thought it was not love, but some melancholy. XXVIII. So soone as Night had with her pallid hew - Defaste the beautie of the ^hyning skye. And refte from men the worldes desired vew. She with her Nourse adowne to sleepe did lye; But sleepe full far away from her did fly: In stead thereof sad sighes and sorrowes deepe Kept watch and ward about her warily, That nought she did but wayle, and often steepe Her dainty couch with teares which closely she did weepe. And if that any drop of slombring rest Did chaunce to still into her weary spright, When feeble nature felt her selfe opprest, Streight-way with dreames, and with fan- tastick sight Of dreadfull things, the same was put to flight ; That oft out of her bed she did astart, As one with vew of ghastly f eends affright : Tho gan she to renew her former smart, And thinke of that fayre visage written in her hart. XXX. One night, when she was tost with such unrest, 2IO THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Her aged Nourse, whose name was Glauce hight, Feeling her leape out of her loathed nest, Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly keight, And downe agaiue her in her warme bed dight: * Ah! my deare daughter, ah! my dearest dread, What uncouth fit,' (sayd she) ' what evill plight Hath thee opprest, and with sad dreary- head Chaunged thy lively cheare, and living made thee dead ? XXXI. ' For not of nought these suddein ghastly feares All night aftiict thy naturall repose ; And all the day, when as thine equall peares Their fit disports with faire delight doe chose. Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe in- close ; Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest spred Abroad thy fresh youths fayrest flowre, but lose Both leafe and fruite, both too untimely shed, As one in wilfull bale for ever buried. XXXII. ' The time that mortall men their weary cares Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest. And every river eke his course forbeares, Then doth this wicked evill thee infest, And rive with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest : Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed gryefe, Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest, Whence foorth it breakes in sighes and anguish ryfe, As smoke and sulphure mingled with con- fused stryfe. XXXIII. 'Ay me! how much I feare least love it bee! But if that love it be, as sure I read By knowen signes and passions which I see. Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead, Then I avow, by this most sacred head Of my deare foster childe, to ease thy grief e And win thy will : Therefore away doe dread ; For death nor daunger from thy dew reliefe Shall me debarre : tell me therefore, my liefest liefe ! ' So having sayd, her twixt her armes twaine Shee streightly straynd, and colled ten- derly ; And every trembling joynt and every vaine Shee softly felt, and rubbed busily. To doe the f roseu cold away to fly ; And her faire deawy eies with kisses deare Shee ofte did bathe, and ofte againe did dry; And ever her importund not to feare To let the secret of her hart to her ap- peare. XXXV. The Damzell pauzd ; and then thus fear- fully : ' Ah ! Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my payne ? Is not enough that I alone doe dye, But it must doubled bee with death of twaine ? For nought for me but death there doth remaine.' [ ' O daughter deare ! ' (said she) ' despeire no whit ; For never sore but might a salve obtaine : That blinded God, which hath ye blindly smit, Another arrow hath your lovers hart to hit.' XXXVI. ' But mine is not ' (quoth she) ' like other wownd ; For which no reason can finde remedy.' ' Was never such, but mote the like be fownd,' (Said she) ' and though no reason may apply Salve to your sore, yet love can higher stye Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders donne.' ' But neither God of love nor God of skye Can doe ' (said she) ' that which cannot be donne.' ' Things ofte impossible ' (quoth she) * seeme, ere begonue. .i-RIE QUEEN K. 211 XXXVII. ' These idle wordes ' (said sli ^ ' doe iiought aswage My stubborue smart, but more annoiauuce breed : For no, no usuall fire, no iisuall rage Yt is, O Nourse ! which on my life doth feed, And sucks the blood which from my hart doth bleed : But since thy faithful zele lets me not hyde My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed. Nor Prince nor pere it is, whose love hath gryde My feeble brest of late, and launched this wound wyde. ' Nor man it is, nor other living wight, For then some hope I might unto me draw ; But th' only shade and semblant of a knight, Whose shape or person yet I never saw, Hath me subjected to loves cruell law : The same one day, as me misfortune led, I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw, And, pleased with that seeming goodly- hed, Unwares the hidden hooke with baite I swallowed. ' Sithens it hath infixed faster hold "Within my bleeding bowells, and so sore Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly mould, That all my entrailes flow with poisnous gore. And th' ulcer groweth daily more and more ; Ne can my ronning sore finde remedee, Other then my hard fortune to deplore. And languish, as the leafe fain from the tree, Till death make one end of my dales and miseree ! ' XL. 'Daughter,' (said she) 'what need ye be dismayd ? Or why make ye such Monster of your minde? Of much more uncouth thing I was affrayd. Of filthy lust, contrary unto kinde ; But this affection nothing straunge I finde ; For who with reason can you aye reprove To love the semblaunt pleasing most your minde, And yield your heart whence ye cannot remove ? No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of love. * Not so th' Arabian Myrrhe diiX set her mynd. Nor so did Biblis spend her pining hart; But lov'd their native flesh against al kynd, And to their purpose used wicked art : Yet playd Pasiphae a more monstrous part, That lov'd a Bui, and learnd a beast to bee. Such shamefull lustes who loaths not, which depart From course of nature and of modestee? Sweete love such leM^dnes bands from his faire companee. ' But thine, my Deare, (welfare thy heart, my deare!) Though straunge beginning had, yet fixed is On one that worthy may perhaps appeare ; And certes seemes bestowed not amis : Joy thereof have thou and eternall blis! ' With that, upleaningon her elbow weake. Her alablaster brest she soft did kis. Which all that while shee felt to pant and quake. As it an Earth-quake were: at last she thus bespake. XLIII. * Beldame, your words doe worke me litle ease ; For though my love be not so lewdly bent As those ye blame, yet may it nought appease My raging smart, ne ought my flame relent. But rather doth my helpelesse griefe aug- ment ; For they, how ever shamefull and un- kiiide. Yet did possesse their horrible intent; Short end of sorrowes they therby did finde ; So was their fortune good, though wicked were their minde. ' But wicked fortune mine, though minde be good. Can have no ende nor hope of my desire, But feed on shadowes whiles I die for food. 212 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. And like a shadowe wexe, whiles with entire Affection I doe languish and expire. I, fonder then Cephisns foolish chyld, Who, having vewed iu a fouutaiue shere His face, was with the love thereof be- guyld; I, fonder, love a shade, the body far exyld.' * Nought like,' (quoth shee) ' for that same wretched boy Was of him selfe the ydle Paramoure, Both love and lover, without hope of joy. For which he faded to a watry flowre : But better fortune thine, and better howre. Which lov'st the shadow of a warlike knight ; No shadow but a body hath in powre : That body, wheresoever that it light, May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke might. XLVI. * But if thou may with reason yet re- presse The growing evill, ere it strength have gott. And thee abandond wholy do possesse. Against it strongly strive, and yield thee nott Til thou in open fielde adowne be smott: But if the passion mayster thy fraile might. So that needs love or death must bee thy lott, Then, I avow to thee, by wrong or right To compas thy desire, and find that loved knight.' XLVII. Her chearefull words much cheard the feeble spright Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she layd In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she might ; And the old-woman carefully displayd The clothes about her round with busy ayd; So that at last a litle creeping sleepe Surprisd her sence : Shee, therewith well apayd, The dronken lamp down in the oyl did steepe, And sett her by to watch, and sett her by to weepe. XLVIII. Earely , the morrow next, before that day His joyous face did to the world revele, They both uprose and tooke their ready w?.y Unt'; che Church, their praiers to appele AVitli great devotion, and with little zele: For the faire Damzel from the holy lierse Her love-sicke hart to other thoughts did steale ; And that old Dame said many an idle verse, Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to reveise. XLIX. Retourned home, the royall Infant fell Into her former fitt ; for-why no powre Nor guidaunce of herselfe in her did j dwell : But th' aged Nourse, her calling to her bowre, Had gathered Rew, and Savine, and the flowre Of Camphora, and Calamint, and Dill ; All which she in a earthen Pot did poure, And to the brim with Coltwood did it fill, And many drops of milk and blood through it did spill. Then, taking thrise three heares from off her head. Then trebly breaded in a threefold lace. And round about the Pots mouth bound the thread ; And, after having whispered a space Certein sad words with hollow voice and bace, Shee to the virgin sayd, thrise sayd she itt; ' Come daughter, come ; come, spit upon my face; Spitt thrise upon me, thrise upon me spitt ; Th' uneven nomber for this busines is most fitt.' That sayd, her rownd about she from her turnd. She turned her contrary to the Sunne ; Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd All contrary ; for she the right did shunne ; And ever what she did was straight un- donne. So thought she to undoe her daughters love ; But love, that is in gentle brest begonne, No ydle charmes so lightly may remove : That well can witnesse who by tryall it does prove. LIT. Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd avayle, Ne slake the fury of her cruell flame, But that shee still did waste, and still did wayle, CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 213 That, through long languour and hart- buniing brame, She shortly like a pyned ghost became Which long hath waited by the Stygian strond. That when old Glance saw, for feare least blame Of her miscarriage should in her be fond, She wist not how t'amend, nor how it to withstond. CANTO III. Merlin bewraves to Britomart The state of Arthegall ; And shews the famous Progeny, Which from them springen shall. Most sacred fyre, that burnest mightily In living brests, ykindled first above Emongst th' eternall spheres and lamping sky, And thence pourd into men, which men call Love ! Not that same, which doth base affections move In brutish mindes, and filthy lust inflame. But that sweete fit that doth true beautie love. And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame, Whence spring all noble deedes and never dying fame : II. Well did Antiquity a God thee deeme, That over mortall mindes hast so great might, To order them as best to thee doth seeme. And all their actions to direct aright : The fatal 1 purpose of divine foresight Thou doest effect hi destined descents, Through deepe impression of thy secret might, And stirredst up th' Heroes high intents. Which the late world admyres for won- drous moniments. III. But thy dredd dartes in none doe triumph more, Ne braver proofe in any of thy powre Shewd'st thou, then in this royall Maid of yore, Making her seeke an unknowne Para- moure, From the worlds end, through many a bitter stowre: From whose two loynes thou afterwardes did rayse Most famous f ruites of matrimoniall bowre, Which through the earth have spredd their living prayse, That fame in tromp of gold eternally displayes. Begin then, O my dearest sacred Dame! Daughter of Phwbus and of Memorye, That doest ennoble with immortall name The warlike Worthies, from antiquitye. In thy great volume of Eternitye : Begin, O Clio! and recount from hence My glorious So veraines goodly auncestrye. Till that by dew degrees, and long pro- tense. Thou have it lastly brought unto her Excel- lence. V. Full many wayes within her troubled mind Old Glance cast to cure this Ladies griefe ; Full many waies she sought, but none could find, Nor lierbes, nor cliarmes, nor counsel, that is chiefe And choicest med'cine for sick harts reliefe : Forthy great care she tooke, and greater feare, Least that it should her turne to fowle repriefe And sore reproch, when so her father deare Should of his dearest daughters hard mis- fortune heare. VI. At last she her avisde, that he which made That mirrhour , wherein the sicke Damosell So straungely vewed her straunge lovers shade. To weet, the learned Merlin, well could tell Under what coast of heaven the man did dwell, And by what means his love might best be wrought : For, though beyond the A f rick Ismael Or th' Indian Peru he were, she thought Him forth through infinite endevour to have sought. 214 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Forthwith them selves disguising both in straunge And base atyre, that none might them bewray, To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way: There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) To make his wonne, low underneath the ground, In a deepe delve, farre from the vew of day, That of no living wight he mote be found. When so he counseld with his sprights eneompast round. And, if thou ever happen that same way To traveill, go to see that dreadful place. It is an hideous hollow cave (they say) Under a Rock that lyes a litle space From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace Emongst the woody hilles of Dynevowre : But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace To enter into that same balefull Bowre, For feare the cruell Feendes should thee un wares devowre: But standing high aloft low lay thine eare, And there such ghastly noyse of yi'on chaines And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling heare. Which thousand sprights with long endur- ing paines Doe tosse, that it will stonn thy feeble braines ; And oftentimes great grones, and grievous stownds, When too huge toile and labour them constraines. And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sowndes From under that deepe Rock most horribly rebowndes. The cause, some say, is this : A litle wliyle Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend A brasen wall in compas to compyle About Cairmardin, and did it commend Unto these Sprights to bring to perfect end: During which worke the Lady of the Lake, Whom long he lov'd, for him in hast did send ; Who, thereby forst his workemen to for- sake, Them bownd till his retourne their labour not to slake. In the meane time, through that false Ladies traine He was surprisd, and buried under beare, Ne ever to his worke returnd againe : Nath'lesse those feends may not their work forbeare, So greatly his commandemeut they feare, But there doe toyle and traveile day and night, Untill that brasen wall they up doe reare ; For Merlin had in Magick more insight Then ever him before, or after, living wight : XII. For he by wordes could call out of the sky Both Sunne and Moone, and make them him obay; The Land to sea, and sea tomaineland dry. And darksom night he eke could turne to day: Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay, And hostes of men of meanest thinges could frame, When so him list his enimies to fray ; That to this day, for terror of his fame, The feends do quake when any him to them does name. And, sooth, men say that he was not the Sonne Of mortall Syre or other living wight, But wondrously begotten, and begonne By false illusion of a guilefuU Spright On a faire Lady Nonne, that whilome hight Matilda, daughter to Pubidius, Who was the lord of Mathraval by right, And coosen unto king Ambrosius ; Whence he indued was with skill so mer- veilous. XIV. They, here arriving, staid awhile with- out, Ne durst adventure rashly iu to wend. But of their first intent gan make new dout. For dread of daunger which it might por- tend ; Untill the hardy Mayd (with love to frend) First entering, the dreadfull Mage there fownd CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 215 Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end, And writing straunge cliaracters in the growud, With which the stubborne feendes he to his service bownd. He nought was moved at their entraunce bold, For of their comming well he wist afore ; Yet list them bid their businesse to unfold, As if ought in this world in secrete store Were from him hidden, or unknowne of yore. Then Glauce thus : ' Let not it thee offend, That we thus rashly through thy darksom dore Un wares have prest ; for either fatall end. Or other mightie cause, us two did hither send.' He bad tell on ; And then she thus began. ' Kow have three Moones with borrowd brothers light Thrise shined faire, and thrise seemd dim and wan, Sith a sore evill, -which this virgin bright Tormenteth and doth plonge in dolefull plight, First rooting tooke ; but what thing it mote bee, Or whence it sprong, I can not read aright : But this I read, that, but if remedee Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead shall see.' Therewith th' Enchaunter softly gan to smyle At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well That she to him dissembled womanish guyle. And to her said : ' Beldame, by that ye tell More neede of leach-crafte hath your Damozell, Then of my skill : who helpe may have elsewhere, In vaine seekes wonders out of Magick spell.' Th' old M^oman wox half blanck those wordes to heare. And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine appeare ; XVITI. And to him said : ' Yf any leaches skill, Or other learned meanes, could have redrest This my deare daughters deepe engraffed ill. Cartes I should be loth thee to molest ; But this sad evill, which doth her infest, Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed, And housed is within her hollow brest, That either seemes some cursed witches deed, Or evill spright, that in her doth such tor- ment breed.' The wisard could no lenger beare her bord. But, brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd : ' Glauce, what needes this colourable word To cloke the cause that hath it selfe be- wray d ? Ne ye, fayre Britomartis, thus arayd, More hidden are then Sunne in cloudy vele ; Whom thy good fortune, having fate obayd, Hath hither brought for succour to appele ; The which the powres to thee are pleased to re vele.' XX. The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe descry de, Was all abasht, and her pure yvory Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde ; As fayre Aurora, rysing hastily, Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye All night in old Tithonus frozen bed. Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly : But her olde Nourse was nought dishar- tened, But vauntage made of that which Merlin had ared ; XXI. And sayd ; ' Sith then thou knowest all our grief e, (For what doest not thou knowe?) of grace I pray, Pitty our playnt, and yield us meet re- liefe.' With that the Prophet still awhile did stay, And then his spirite thus gan foorth dis- play: ' Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore Hast learn 'd to love, let no whit thee dismay The hard beginne that meetes thee in the dore, And with sharpe fits thy tender hart op- presseth sore : ' For so must all things excellent begin ; And eke enrooted deepe m ust be that Tree, Whose big embodied braunches shall not lin 2l6 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Till they to hevens hight forth stretched bee: For from thy wombe a famous Progenee Shall spring out of the auncient Trojan blood, AVhich shall revive the sleeping memoree Of those same antique Peres, the hevens brood, Which Greeke and Asian rivers stayned with their blood. XXIII. 'Renowmed kings, and sacred Emper- ours. Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee descend ; Brave Captaines, and most mighty war- riours. That shall their conquests through all lands extend. And their decayed kingdomes shall amend : The feeble Britons, broken with long warre. They shall upreare, and mightily defend Against their forren foe that commes from farre. Till universall peace compound all civill Jarre. XXIV. ' It was not, Britomart, thy wandring eye Glauncing unwares in charmed looking glas, But the streight course of hevenly destiny, Led with eternall providence, that has Guyded thy glaunce, to bring his will to pas: Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill, To love the prowest knight that ever was. Therefore submit thy wayes unto his will, And doe by all dew meanes thy destiny fulfill.' XXV. ' But read,' (saide Glauce) * thou Magitian, What meanes shall she out seeke, or what waies take ? How shall she know, how shall she finde the man ? Or what needes her to toyle, sith fates can make Way for themselves their purpose to per- take ? ' Then Merlin thus : ' Indeede the fates are firme. And may not shrinck, though all the world do shake ; Yet ought mens good endevours themcon- firme, i And guyde the heavenly causes to their constant terme. ' The man, whom heavens have ordaynd to bee The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall : He wouneth in the land of Fayeree, Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all To Elfes, but sproug of seed terrestriall. And whylome by false Faries stolne away, Whyles yet in infant cradle he did crall ; Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day. But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a Fay: XXVII. * But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlo'is, And brother unto Cador, Coi-nish king; And for his warlike feates renowmed is, From where the day out of the sea doth spring, Untill the closure of the Evening : From thence him, firmely bound with faithfull band. To this his native soyle thou backe shalt bring. Strongly to ayde his countrey to withstand The powre of forreine Paynims which in- vade thy land. ' Great ayd thereto his mighty puis- saunce And dreaded name shall give in that sad day; AVhere also proofe of thy prow valiaunce Thou then shalt make, t' increase thy lover's pray. Long time ye both in armes shall beare great sway, Till thy wombes burden thee from them do call. And his last fate him from thee take away ; Too rathe cut off by practise criminall Of secrete foes, that him shall make in mischiefe fall. * With thee yet shall he leave, for memory Of his late puissaunce, his ymage dead. That living him in all activity To thee shall represent. lie, from the head Of his coosen Constantius, without dread Shall take the crowne that was his fathers right. And therewith crowne hims^lfe in th others stead : CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 217 Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull might Against his Saxon foes in bloody field to fight. XXX. * Like as a Lyon that in drowsie cave Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he shake ; And comming forth shall spred his banner brave Over the troubled South, that it shall make The warlike Mertians for feare to quake : Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise shall win ; But the third time shall fayre accordaunce make : And, if he then with victorie can lin, He shall his dayes with peace bring to his earthly In. - XXXI. 'His Sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him succeede In kingdome, but not in felicity : Yet shall he long time warre with happy speed, And with great honour many batteills try ; But at the last to th' importunity Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield : But his Sonne Malgo sliall full mightily Avenge his fathers losse with speare and shield. And his proud foes discomfit in victorious field. XXXII. ' Behold the man ! and tell me, Brito- mart, If ay more goodly creature thou didst see ? How like a Gyaunt in each manly part Beares he himselfe with portly majestee, That one of th' old Heroes seemes to bee ! He the six Islands, comprovinciall In auncient times unto great Britainee, Shall to the same reduce, and to him call Their sondry kings to do their homage sever all. XXXIII. * All which his sonne Careticus awhile Shall well defend, and Saxons powre sup- presse ; . Untill a strauuger king, from uuknowne soyle Arriving, him with multitude oppresse ; Great Gormoud, having with huge mighti- nesse Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne. Like a swift Otter, fell through empti- nesse. Shall overswim the sea, with many one Of his Norveyses, to assist the Britons fone. * He in his furie all shall overronne, And holy Church with faithlesse handes deface, That thy sad people, utterly fordonne, Shall to the utmost mountaines fiy apace. Was never so great waste in an-y place. Nor so fowle outrage doen by living men ; For all thy Citties they shall sacke and race, And the greene grasse that groweth they shall bren. That even the wilde beast shall dy in starved den. ' Whiles thus thy Britons doe in lan- guour pine, Proud Etheldred shall from the North arise. Serving th' ambitious will of Augustine, And, passing Dee, with hardy enterprise Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brock- well twise. And Bangor with massacred Martyrs fill. But the third time shall rew his fool- hardise ; For Cadwan, pittying his peoples ill, Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand Saxons kill. ' But after him , Cadwallin mightily On his Sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall wreake ; Ne shall availe the wicked sorcery Of false Pellite his purposes to breake. But him shall slay, and on a gallowes bleak Shall give th' enchaunter his unhappy hire. Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and weake. From their long vassalage gin to respire, And on their Paynim foes avenge their ranckled ire. XXXVII. ' Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate, Till both the sonnes of Edwin he have slayne, Offricke and Osricke, twinnes unfortu- nate, Both slaine in battaile upon Layburne playne, Together witli the king of Louthiane, Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny, 2l8 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Both joyut partakers of their fatall payne : But Penda, fearefull of like desteny, Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and sweare fealty. ' Him shall he make his fatall Instru- ment T' afflict the other Saxons unsubdewd ; He marching forth with fury insolent Against the good king Oswald, who in- dewd With heavenly powre, and by Angels res- kewd, Al holding crosses in their hands on hye. Shall him defeate withouten blood im- brewd : Of w^iich that field, for endlesse memory. Shall Hevenfield be cald to all posterity. ' Whereat Cadwallin wroth shall forth issew, And an huge hoste into Northumber lead, With which he godly Oswald shall subdew. And crowne with martiredome his sacred head : Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like dread. With price of silver shall his kingdome buy; And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread. Shall tread adowne, and doe him fowly dye; But shall with guifts his Lord Cadwallin pacify. XL. ' Then shall Cadwallin die ; and then the raine Of Britons eke with him attonce shall dye ; Ne shall the good Cadwallader, with paine Or powre, be hable it to remedy, When the full time, prefixt by destiny, Shal be expird of Britons regiment : For heven it selfe shall their successe envy. And them with plagues and murrins pes- tilent Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce be spent. XLI. * Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge hills Of dying people, during eight yeares space, Cadwallader, not yielding to his ills. From Armoricke, where long in wretched cace Heliv'd, retourning to his native place, Shal be by vision staide from his intent : For th' heavens have decreed to displace The Britons for their sinnes dew punish- ment And to the Saxons over-give their govern- ment. XLII. * Then woe, and woe, and everlasting woe, Be to the Briton babe that shal be borne To live in thraldome of his fathers foe! Late king, now captive; late lord, now forlorne ; The worlds reproch; the cruell victors scorn e ; Banisht from princely bowre to wastefull wood ! O! who shal helpe me to lament and mourne The royall seed, the antique Trojan blood, Whose empire lenger here then ever any stood ? ' XLIII. The Damzell was full deepe empas- sioned Both for his grief e, and for her peoples sake. Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned ; And, sighing sore, at length him thus bespake : ' Ah ! but will hevens fury never slake. Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at last? Will not long misery late mercy make, But shall their name for ever be defaste, And quite from off the earth their mem- ory be raste ? ' • ' Nay but the tei-me ' (sayd he) * is limited, That in this thraldome Britons shall abide ; And the just revolution measured That they as Straungers shal be notifide : For twise fowre hundreth yeares shalbe supplide, Ere they to former rule restor'd shal bee, And their importune fates all satisfide : Yet, during this their most obscuritee, Their beames shall of te breake forth, that men them faire may see. XLV, ' For Rhodoricke, whose surname shal be Great, Shall of him selfe a brave ensample shew, That Saxon kinges his friendship shall in treat; And Howell Dha shall goodly well in- dew CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. The salvage minds with skill of just and trew : Then Griffyth Conan also shall upreare His dreaded head, and the old sparkes re- new Of native corage, that his foes shall feare, Least back againe the kingdom he from them should beare. XL VI. ' Ne shall the Saxons selves all peaceably Enjoy the crowne, which they from Britons wonne First ill, and after ruled wickedly ; For, ere two hundred yeares be full out- ronne, There shall a Raven, far from rising Sunne, With his wide wings upon them fiercely fly, And bid his faithlesse chickens overronne The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty In their avenge tread downe the victors surquedry. XLVII. * Yet shall a third both these and thine subdew. There shall a Lion from the sea-bord wood Of Neustria come roring, with a crew Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold brood, Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy blood. That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall rend Th' usurped crowne, as if that he were wood , And the spoile of the countrey conquered Emongst his young ones shall divide with bountyhed. XLVIII. * Tho, when the terme is full accom- pli shid, There shall a sparke of fire, which hath longwhile Bene in his ashes raked up and hid, Boe freshly kindled in the fruitfull He Of Mona, where it lurked in exile ; Which shall breake forth into bright burn- ing flame. And reach into the house that beares the stile Of roiall majesty and soveraine name : So shall the Briton blood their crowne agayn reclame. XLIX. * Thenceforth eternall union shall be made Betweene the nations different afore, And sacred Peace shall lovingly persuade The warlike minds to learue her goodly lore. And civile armes to exercise no more : Then shall a royall Virgin raine, which shall Stretch her white rod over the Belgicke shore, And the great Castle smite so sore with- all, That it shall make him shake, and shortly learn to fall. ' But yet the end is not.' — There Merlin stayd, As overcomen of the spirites powre. Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd. That secretly he saw, yet note discoure : Which suddein fitt, and halfe extatick stoure, When the two fearefull wemen saw, they grew Greatly confused in behaveoure. At last, the fury past, to former hew Hee turnd againe, and chearfull looks as earst did shew. Then, when them selves they well in- structed had Of all that needed them to be inquird. They both, conceiving hope of comfort glad. With lighter hearts unto their home re- tird; Where they in secret counsell close con- spird, How to effect so hard an enterprize. And to possesse the purpose they desird : Now this, now that, twixt them they did devize. And diverse plots did frame to maske in strange disguise. At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit Conceiv'd a bold devise, and thus be- spake : ' Daughter, I deeme that counsel aye most fit, That of the time doth dew advauntage take. Ye see that good king Uther now doth make Strong warre upon the Paynim brethren, hight Octa and Oza, whome hee lately brake Beside Cayr Verolame in victorious fight, 220 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. That now all Britany doth burne in armes bright. Lni. * That, therefore, nought our passage may empeach, Let us in feigned armes our selves dis- guize, And our weake hands (need makes good schollers) teach The dreadful speare and shield to exer- cize : Ne certes, daughter, that same warlike wize, I weene, would you misseeme; for ye beene tall. And large of limbe t' atchieve an hard emprize ; Ne ought ye want but skil, which practize small Wil bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall. LIV. * ^nd, sooth, it ought your corage much inflame To heare so often, in that royall hous, From whence, to none inferior, ye came. Bards tell of many wemen valorous. Which have full many feats adventurous Performd, in paragone of proudest men: The bold Bunduca, whose victorious Exployts made Rome to quake; stout Guendolen ; Renowmed Martia; and redoubted Em- milen. LV. ' And, that which more then all the rest may sway. Late dayes ensample, which these eyes beheld : In the last field before Menevia, Which Uther with those forrein Pagans held, I saw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld Great Ulfin thrise upon the bloody playne ; And, had not Carados her hand withheld From rash revenge, she had him surelj' slayne : Yet Carados himselfe from her escapt with payne.' LVI. 'Ah! read,' (quoth Britomart) * how is she hight ? ' ' Fayre Angela ' (quoth she) ' men do her call. No whit lesse fayre then terrible in figlit : She hath the leading of a Martiall And mightie people, dreaded more then all The other Saxons, which doe, for her sake And love, themselves of her name Angles call. Therefore, faire Infant, her ensample make Unto thy selfe, and equall corage to thee take.' LVII. Her harty wordes so deepe into the mynd Of the yong Damzell sunke, that great desire Of warlike armes in her forthwith they tynd, And generous stout courage did iuspyre. That she resolv'd, unweeting to her Syre, Advent'rous knighthood on her selfe to don; And counseld with her Nourse her Maides at tyre To turue into a massy habergeon, And bad her all things put in readinesse anon. Lvm. Th' old woman nought that needed did omit, But all thinges did conveniently purvay. It fortuned (so time their turne did fitt) A band of Britons, ryding on forray Few dayes before, had gotten a great pray Of Saxon goods ; emongst the which was scene A goodly Armour, and full rich aray. Which long'd to Angela, the Saxon Queene, All fretted round with gold, and goodly wel beseene. The same, with all the other ornaments, King Ryence caused to be hanged hy In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moni- ments Of his successe and gladfull victory : Of which her selfe avising readily. In th' evening late old Glance thither led Faire Britomart, and, that same Armory Downe taking, her therein appareled Well as she might, and with brave baul- drick garnished. LX. Beside those armes there stood a mightie speare, Wliich Bladud made by Magick art of yore. And usd the same in batteill aye to beare ; Sith which it had beene here preserv'd in store. CANTO III.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 221 For his great virtues proved long afore : For never wight so fast in sell could sit, But him perforce unto the ground it bore. Both speare she tooke and shield which hong by it ; Both speare and shield of great powre, for her purpose fit. Thus when she had the virgin allarayd, Another harnesse which did hang thereby About her selfe she dight, that the yong Mayd She might in equall amies accompany, And as her Squyre attend her carefully. Tho to their ready Steedes they clombe full light. And through back waies, that none might them espy, Covered with secret cloud of silent night, Themselves they forth couvaid, and passed forward right. Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond They came, as Merlin them directed late : Where, meeting with this Redcrosse Knight, she fond Of diverse thinges discourses to dilate. But most of Arthegall and his estate. At last their wayes so fell, that they mote part : Then each to other, well affectionate, Friendship professed with unfained hart. The Redcrosse Knight diverst, but forth rode Britomart. CANTO IV. Bold Marinell of Britomart Is throwne on the Eich strond Faire Florimell of Arthure is Long followed, but not fond. Where is the Antique glory now be- come, That whylome wont in wemen to appeare ? Where be the brave atchievements doen by some ? Where be the batteilles, wdiere the shield and speare. And all the conquests which them high did reare, That matter made for famous Poets verse, And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare ? Beene they all dead, and laide in dolefull herse. Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall againe reverse? II. If they be dead, then woe is me there- fore ; But if they sleepe, O let them soone awake ! For all too long I burne with envy sore To heare the warlike feates which Homere spake Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake Of Greekish blood so ofte in Trojan plain e ; But when I reade,how stout Debora strake Proud Sisera, and how Camill' hath slaine The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great disdains. Yet these, and all that els had puis- saunce, Cannot with noble Britomart compare, As well for glorie of great valiaunce. As for pure chastitee and vertue rare. That all her goodly deedes doe well de- clare. Well worthie stock, from which the branches sprong That in late yeares so faire a blossome bare, As thee, O Queene ! the matter of my song, Whose lignage from this Lady I derive along. IV. Who when, through speaches with the Redcrosse Knight, She learned had tli' estate of Arthegall, And in each point her selfe informd aright, A friendly league of love perpetuall She with him bound, and Conge tooke withall : Then he forth on his journey did pro- ceede, To seeke adventures which mote him befall. And win him worship through his warlike deed, Which alwaies of his paines he made the chief est meed. THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. But Britomart kept on her former course, Ne ever dofte her arraes, but all the way Grew pensive through that amarous dis- course, By which the Redcrosse knight did earst display Her lovers shape and chevalrous aray : A thousand thoughts she fashiond in her mind, And in her feigning fancie did pourtray Him such as fittest she for love could find, Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and kind. VI. With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her wound she f edd , And thought so to beguile her grievous smart ; But so her smart was much more grievous bredd. And the deepe wound more deep engord her hart, That nought but death her dolour mote depart. So forth she rode, without repose or rest. Searching all lands and each remotest part, Following the guydance of her blinded guest, Till that to the sea-coast at length she her addrest. VII. There she alighted from her light-foot beast. And sitting downe upon the rocky shore, Badd her old Squyre unlace her lofty creast : Tho having vewd awhile the surges hore That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly rore. And in their raging surquedry disdaynd That the fast earth affronted them so sore. And their devouring covetize restraynd ; Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus complaynd. VIII. * Huge sea of sorrow and tempestuous griefe, Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long Far from the hoped haven of reliefe. Why doe thy cruel billowes beat so strong. And thy moyst mountaiues each on others throng, Threatning to swallow up my fearefuU lyfe? O! doe thy cruell wrath and spightfuU wrong At length allay, and stint thy stormy strife, Which in thy troubled bowels raignes and rageth ryfe. IX. 'For els my feeble vessell, crazd and crackt Through thy strong buffets and outra- geous blowes, Cannot endure, but needes it must be wrackt On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shal- lowes, The Avhiles that love it steres, and fortune rowes: Love, my lewd Pilott, hath a restlesse minde ; And fortune, Boteswaine, no assurance knowes ; But saile withouten starres gainst tyde and wynde : How can they other doe, sith both are bold and blinde? 'Thou God of windes, that raignest in the seas, That raignest also in the Continent, At last blow up some gentle gale of ease, The which may bring my ship, ere it be s rent, Unto the gladsome port of her intent. Then, when I shall my selfe in safety see, A table, for eternall moniment Of thy great grace and my great jeopardee, Great Neptune, I avow to hallow unto thee ! ' XI, Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe, She shut up all her plaint in privy griefe For her great courage would not let her weepe, Till that old Glance gan with sharpe re- priefe Her to restraine, and give her good reliefe Through hope of those, which Merlin had her told Should of her name and nation be chiefe. And fetch their being from the sacred mould Of her immortall womb, to be in heaven enrold. XII. Thus as she her recomforted, she sp\de Where far away one, all in armour bright. With hasty gallop towards her did ryde. Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her dight CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 223 Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting light: Her former sorrow into suddein wrath, Both coosen passions of distroubled spright, Converting, forth she beates the dusty path : Love and despight attonce her courage kindled hath. As, when a foggy mist hath overcast The face of heven, and the cleare ay re eugroste, The world in darkenes dwels ; till that at last The watry Southwinde, from the seabord coste Upblowing, doth disperse the vapour lo'ste, And poures it selfe forth in a stormy showre : So the fayre Britomart, having disclo'ste Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre. The mist of griefe dissolv'd did into vengeance jowre. Eftsoones, her goodly shield addressing fayre, That mortall speare she in her hand did take, And unto battaill did her selfe prepay re. The knight, approching, sternely her be- spake : ' Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make By this forbidden way in my despight, Ne doest by others death ensample take, I read thee scone retyre, whiles thou hast might, Least afterwards it be too late to take thy flight.' XV. Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his proud threat. She shortly thus : ' Fly they, that need to fly; Wordes fearen babes. I meane not thee entreat To passe, but maugre thee will passe or dy.' Ne lenger stayd for th' other to reply, But with sharpe speare the rest made dearly knowne. S:rongly the straunge knight ran, and sturdily Strooke her full on the brest, that made her downe Decline her head, and touch her crouper with her crown. But she againe him in the shield did smite With so lierce f urie and great puissaunce, That, through his three-square scuchin percing quite And through his mayled hauberque, by mischaunce The wicked Steele through his left side did glauuce. Him so transfixed she before her bore Beyond his croupe, the length of all her launce ; Till, sadly soucing on the sandy shore, He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore. XVII. Like as the sacred Oxe that carelesse stands, With gilden homes and flowry girlonds crownd, Proud of his dying honor and deare bandes, Whiles th' altars fume with frankincense arownd, All suddeinly, with mortall stroke as- townd, Doth groveling fall, and with his stream- ing gore Distaines the pillours and the holy grownd, And the faire flowres that decked him afore : So fell proud Marinell upon the pretious shore. XVIII. The martiall Mayd staj'-d not him to lament, But forward rode, and kept her ready way Along the strond; which, as she over- went. She saw bestrowed all with rich aray Of pearles and pretious stones of great assay. And all the gravell mixt with golden owre : Whereat she wondred much, but would not stay For gold, or perles, or pretious stones, an howre, But them despised all ; for all was in her powre. XIX. Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonish- ment, Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare : 224 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. His mother was the blacke-browd Cy- moeut, The daughter of great Nereus, which did beare This warlike soime uuto au earthly peare, The famous Dumarin; who, on a day Finding the Nymph asleepe in secret wheare, As he by chauuee did wander that same way, Was taken with her love, and by her closely lay. XX. There he this knight of her begot, whom borne She, of his father, Marinell did name ; And in a rocky cave, as wight forlorne, Lono- time she fostred up, till he became A mighty man at amies, and mickle fame Did get through great adventures by him donue : For never man he suffred by that same Rich strond to travell, whereas he did wonne, But that he must do battail with the Sea- nymphes soune. An hundred knights of honorable name He had subdew'd, and them his vassals made That through all Faerie lond his noble fame Now blazed was, and feare did all in- vade, That none durst passen through that peri- lous glade : And to advauuce his name and glory more, Her Sea-god syre she dearely did per- swade T' endow her sonne with threasure and rich store Bove all the sonnes that were of earthly wombes ybore. The God did graunt his daughters deare demaund, To doen his Nephew in all riches flow ; Eftsoones his heaped waves he did com- mauud Out of their hollow bosome forth to throw All the huge threasure, which the sea be- low Had in his greedy gulfe devoured deepe, And liim enriched through the overthrow And wreckes of many wretches, which did weepe And often wayle their wealth, which he from them did keepe. Shortly upon that shore there heaped was Exceeding riches and all pretious things. The spoyle of all the world ; that it did pas The wealth of th' East, and pompe of Persian kings : Gold, amber, yvorie, perles, owches, rings. And all that els was pretious and deare. The sea unto him voluntary brings ; That shortly he a great Lord did appeare, And was in all the lond of Faery, or else wheare. XXIV. Thereto he was a doughty dreaded knight, Tryde often to the scath of many Deare, That none in equall armes him matchen might : The which his mother seeing gan to feare Least his too haughtie hardines might reare Some hard mishap in hazard of his life. , Forthy she oft him counseld to forbeare j The bloody batteill and to stirre up strife, But after all his warre to rest his wearie knife. XXV. And, for his more assuraunce, she in- quir'd One day of Proteus by his mighty spell (For Proteus was with prophecy inspir'd) Her deare sonnes destiny to her to tell. And the sad end of her sweet Marinell: Who, through foresight of his eternall skill. Bad her from womankind to keepe him well. For of a woman he should have much ill ; A virgin straunge and stout him should dismay or kill. Forthy she gave him warning every day The love of women not to entertaine : A lesson too too hard for living clay From love in course of nature to refraine. Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine. And ever from fayre Ladies love did fly ; Yet many I^adies fayre did oft complaine. That they for love of him would algat-es dy: Dy, who so list for him, he was loves euimy. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 225 XXVII. But ah! who can deceive his destiuy, Or weene by warning to avoyd his fate ? That, when he sleepes in most security And safest seemes, him soonest doth amate, And findeth dew effect or soone or late ; So feeble is the powre of tieshly arme. His mother bad him wemens love to hate, For she of womaus force did feare no harme ; So, weening to have arni'd him, she did quite disarme. This was that woman, this that deadly wownd, That Proteus prophecide should him dis- may ; The which his mother vainely did ex- povnid To be hart-wownding love, which should assay To bring her sonne unto his last decay. So tide be the term 3s of mortall state. And full of subtile sophismes, which doe play With double sences, and with false de- bate, T' approve the unknowen purpose of eter- nall fate. XXIX. Too trew the famous Marinell it fownd, Who, through late triall, on that wealthy Strond Inglorious now lies in sencelesse swownd, Through heavy stroke of Britomartis bond. Which when his mother deare did under- stond. And heavy tidings heard, whereas she playd Amongst her watry sisters by a pond, Gathering sweete daffadillyes, to have made Gay girlonds from the Sun their forheads fayr to shade ; XXX. Eftesoones both flowres and girlonds far away Shee flong, and her faire deawy lockes yrent ; To sorrow huge she turnd her former ^ , play, And gamesom merth to grievous dreri- ment: Shee threw her selfe downe on the Conti- nent, Ne word did speake, but lay as in a swowue, Whiles all her sisters did for her lament With yelling outcries, and with shrieking sowne ; And every one did teare her girlond from her crowne. Soone as shee up out of her deadly fitt Arose, shee bad her charett to be brought ; And all her sisters that with her did sitt Bad eke attonce their charetts to be sought : Tho, full of bitter griefe and pensife thought, She to her wagon clombe ; clombe all the rest, And forth together went with sorow fraught. The waves, obedient to theyr beheast. Them yielded ready passage, and their rage su recast. Great Neptune stoode amazed at their sight. Whiles on his broad rownd backe they softly slid. And eke him selfe mournd at their mourn- ful plight, Yet wist not what their wailing ment ; yet did, For great compassion of their sorow, bid His mighty waters to them buxome bee: Eftesoones the roaring billowes still abid. And all the griesly Monsters of the See Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred them to see. A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray Drew the smooth charett of sad Cymoent: They were all taught by Triton to obay To the long raynes at her commaunde- ment : As swifte as swallowes on the waves they went, That their brode flaggy finnes no fome did rfeare, Ne bubling rowndell they behinde them sent. The rest, of other fishes drawen weare, Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did sheare. XXXIV. Soone as they bene arriv'd upon the brim 226 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Of the Rich Strond, their charets they forlore, And let their temed fishes softly swim Along the margent of the fomy shore, Least they their finnes should bruze, and surbate sore Their tender feete upon the stony grownd : And comming to the place, where all in gore And cruddy blood enwallowed they fownd The lucklesse Marinell lying in deadly swownd, XXXV. His mother swowned thrise, and the third time Could scarce recovered bee out of her paine : Had she not beene devoide of mortall slime, Shee should not then have bene relyv'd againe ; But, soone as life recovered had the raine, Shee made so piteous mone and deare way men t. That the hard rocks could scarse from tears ref raine ; And all her sister Nymphes with one con- sent Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad complement. XXXVI. * D^are image of my selfe, (she sayd) ' that is The wretched sonne of wretched mother borne. Is this thine high advauncement? O! is this Th' immortall name, with which thee, yet unborne, Thy Grandsire Nereus promist to adorne? Now lyest thou of life and honor refte ; Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorue ; Ne of thy late life memory is lefte, Ne can thy irrevocable desteny bee wefte. XXXVII. ' Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis ! And they more fond that credit to thee give! Not this theworke of womans hand ywis, Tiiat so deepe wound througli these deare meml)ers drive. I feared love ; but they that love doe live, But they that dye doe nether love nor hate : Nath'lesse to thee thy folly I forgive; And to my selfe, and to accursed fate, The guilt I doe ascribe : deare wisedom bought too late ! XXXVIII. ' O! what availes it of immortall seed To beene ybredd and never borne to dye ? Farre better I it deeme to die with speed Then waste in woe and waylfull miserye : Who dyes, the utmost dolor doth abye ; But who that lives is lefte to waile his So life is losse, and death felicity: Sad life worse then glad death ; and greater crosse To see f rends grave, then dead the grave self to engrosse. ' But if the heavens did his dayes envie, And my short blis maligne, yet mote they well Thus much afford me, ere that he did die. That the dim eies of my deare Marinell I mote have closed, and him bed farewell, Sith other offices for mother meet They would not graunt Yett, maulgre them, farewell, my sweetest sweet! Farewell, my sweetest sonne, sith we no more shall meet ! ' Thus when they all had sorowed their fill, They softly gan to search his griesly wownd : And, that they might him handle more at will. They him disarmd; and, spredding on the grownd Their watchet mantles f rindgd with silver rownd, They softly wipt away the gelly blood From th' orifice ; which having well up- bownd, They pourd in soveraine balme and Nectar good, Good both for erthly med'cine and for hevenly food. Tho when the lilly handed Liagore (This Liagore whilome had learned skill In leaches craft, by great Apolloes lore, Sith her whilome upon high Pindus hill He loved, and at last her wombe did fill With hevenly seed, whereof wise Pneon sprongj Did feele his pulse, shee knew there staled still Some litle life his feeble sprites emong: Which to his mother told, despeyre she from her flong, CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 227 Tho, up him taking in their tender hands, They easely unto her charett beare : Her teme at her commaundemeut quiet stands, Whiles they the corse into her wagon reare, And strowe with llowres the lamentable beare. Then all the rest into their coches dim, And through the brackish waves their passage sheare ; Upon great Neptunes necke they softly swim. And to her watry chamber swiftly carry him. XLIII, Deepe in the bottome of the sea her bowre Is built of hollow billowes heaped bye, Like to thicke clouds that threat a stormy showre. And vauted all within, like to the Skye, In which the Gods doe dwell eternally ; There they him laide hi easy couch well dight, And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply Salves to his wounds, and medicines of might ; For Tryphon of sea gods the soveraine leach is hight. The whiles the Nymphes sitt all about him rownd, Lamenting his mishap and heavy plight ; And ofte his mother, vewing his wide wownd, Cursed the hand that did so deadly smight Her dearest Sonne, her dearest harts de- light : But none of all those curses overtooke The warlike Maide, th' ensample of that might ; But fairely well shee thryvd, and well did brooke Her noble deeds, ne her right course for ought forsooke. Yet did false Archimage her still pursew, To bring to passe his mischievous intent, ' Now that he had her singled from the crew Of courteous knights, the Prince and Faery gent, Whom late in chace of beauty excellent Shee lefte, pursewing that same foster strong. Of whose fowle outrage they impatient, And full of firy zele, him followed long. To reskew her from shame, and to revenge her wrong. Through thick and thin, through moun- tains and through playns, Those two great champions did attouce pursew The fearefull damzell with incessant payns : Who from them fled, as light-foot hare from vew Of hunter swifte and sent of howndes trew. At last they came unto a double way ; Where, doubtfull which to take, her to reskew, Themselves they did dispart, each to assay Whether more happy were to win so goodly pray. But Timias, the Princes gentle Squyre, That Ladies love unto his Lord forlent. And with proud envy and indignant yre After that wicked foster fiercely went : So beene they three three sondry wayes ybent ; But fayrest fortune to the Prince befell. Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did repent, To take that way in which that Damozell Was fledd afore, affraid of him as feend of hell. XLVIII. At last of her far off he gained vew. Then gan he freshly pricke his fomy steed, And ever as he nig'her to her drew. So evermore he did mcrease bis speed, And of each turning still kejit wary heed : Alowd to her he oftentimes did call, To doe away vaine doubt and needlesse dreed : Full myld to her he spake, and oft let fall IVIany meeke wordes to stay and comfort her withall. But nothing might relent her hasty flight, So deepe the deadly feare of that foule swaine Was earst impressed in her gentle spright. Like as a fearefull Dove, which through the raine Of the wide ayre her way does cut amaine, Having farre off espyde a Tassell gent, Which after her his nimble winges doth straine. 228 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book in. Doubleth her hast for feare to bee for- heut, And with her pineons cleaves the liquid fir- mament. L. "With no lesse hast, and eke with no lesse dreed, That fearefull Ladie fledd from him, that ment To her no evill thought nor evill deed ; Yet former feare of being fowly slient Carried her forward with her first intent : And though, oft looking backward, well she vewde Her selfe freed from that foster insolent. And that it was a knight which now her sewde, Yet she no lesse the knight feard then that villein rude. LI. His uncouth shield and straunge armes her dismayd. Who like in Faery lond were seldom scene, That fast she from him fledd, no lesse afrayd Then of wilde beastes if she had chased beene; Yet he her followd still with corage keene So long, that now the golden Hesperus Was mounted high in top of heaven sheene, And warnd his other brethren joyeous To light their blessed lamps in Joves eternall hous. All suddeinly dim wox the dampish ay re, And griesly shadowes covered heaven bright. That now with thousand starres was decked fayre : Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull sight. And that perforce, for want of lenger light. He mote surceasse his suit, and lose the hope Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte His wicked fortune that had turnd aslope. And cursed night that reft from him so goodly scope. Tho, when her wayes he could no more descry, But to and fro at disaventure strayd ; Like as a ship, whose Lodestar suddeinly Covered with cloudes her Pilott hath dis- mayd ; His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd, And from his loftie steed dismounting low Did let him forage. Downe himself e he layd Upon the grassy ground to sleepe a throw : The cold earth was his couch, the hard Steele his pillow. But gentle Sleepe envyde him any rest : In stead thereof sad sorow and disdaine Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest, And thousand Fancies bett his ydle brayne With their light wings, the sights of sem- blants vaine. Oft did he wish that Lady faire mote bee His Faery Queene, for whom he did com- plaine. Or that his Faery Queene were such as slice ; And ever hasty Night he blamed bitterlie. ' Night ! thou foule Mother of annoy- aunce sad, Sister of lieavie death, and nourse of woe. Which w^ast begot in heaven, but for thy bad And brutish shape thrust downe to hell below. Where, by the grim floud of Cocytus slow. Thy dwelling is in Herebus black hous, (Black Herebus, thy husband, is the foe Of all the Gods,) where thou ungratious Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour hideous. LVI. ' What had th' eternall Maker need of thee The world in his continuall course to keepe, That doest all thinges deface, ne lettest see The beautie of his worke? Indeed, in sleepe The slouthfuU body that doth love to steepe His lustlesse limbes, and drowiie his baser mind. Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind. And great Dame Natures haudmaide chearing every kind. CANTO IV.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 229 ' But well I wote, that to an heavy hart Thou art the roote and nourse of bitter cares, Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts : Instead of rest thou lendest rayling teares ; Instead of sleepe thou sendest troublous feares And dreadful! visions, in the which alive The dreary image of sad death appeares : So from the wearie spirit thou doest drive Desired rest, and men of happinesse de- prive. LVIII. ' Under thy mantle black there hidden lye Light-shonning thefte, and traiterous in- tent, Abhorred bloodshed, and vile felony, Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent, Fowle horror, and eke hellish dreriment: All these, I wote, in thy protection bee. And light doe shonne for feare of being shent ; For light ylike is loth'd of them and thee ; And all that lewduesse love doe hate the light to see. ' For day discovers all dishonest wayes. And sheweth each thing as it is in deed : The prayses of high God he faire dis- play es, And his large bountie rightly doth areed : Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed Which darknesse shall subdue and heaven win: Truth is his daughter; he her first did breed Most sacred virgin without spot of sinne. Our life is day, but death with darknesse doth begin. LX. ' O ! when will day then turne to me agaiue, And bring with him his long expected light? O Titan ! hast to reare thy joyous waine ; Speed thee to spred abroad thy beanies bright. And chace away this too long lingring night ; Chace her away, from whence she came, to hell : She. she it is, that hath me done despight ; There let her with the damned spirits dwell. And yield her rowme to-day that can it governe well.' Thus did the Prince that wearie night outweare In restlesse anguish and unquiet paine ; And earely, ere the morrow did upreare His deawy head out of the Ocean maine. He up arose, as halfe in great disdaine. And clombe unto his steed. So forth he went With heavy look and lumpish pace, that plaine In him bewraid great grudge and mal- talent : His steed eke seemd t' apply his steps to his intent. CANTO V. Prince Arthur heares of Florimell; Three fosters Tiinias wound ; Belphebe findes him ahnost dead, And reareth out of sownd. Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes How diversly love doth his pageaunts play, And shewes his powre in variable kindes : The baser wit, whose ydle thoughts alway Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay. It stirreth up to sensuall desire, And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse day; But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire, That to all high desert and honour doth aspire. Ne suffereth it uncomely idlenesse In his free thought to build her sluggish nest, Ne suffereth it thought of ungentlenesse Ever to creepe into his noble brest; But to the highest and the worthiest Lifteth it up that els would lowly fall : It lettes not fall, it lettes it not to rest ; It lettes not scarse this Prince to breath at all. But to his first poursuit him forward still doth call. 230 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Who long time wandred through the forest wyde To finde some issue theuce ; till that at last He met a Dwarfe that seemed terrifyde With some late perill which he hardly past, Or other accident which him aghast ; Of whom he asked, whence he lately came, And whither now he travelled so fast? For sore he swat, and, ronuing through that same Thicke forest, was bescracht and both his feet nigh lame. IV. Panting for breath, and almost out of hart. The Dwarfe him answerd ; * Sir, ill mote I stay To tell the same : I lately did depart From Faery court, where I have many a day Served a gentle Lady of great sway And high accompt through out all Elfin land. Who lately left the same, and tooke this way. Her now I seeke ; and if ye understand Which way she fared hath, good Sir, tell out of hand.' 'What mister wight,' (saide he) 'and how arayd ? ' ' Royally clad ' (quoth he) ' in cloth of gold. As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd : Her faire lockes in ricli circlet be enrold, A fayrer wight did never Sunne behold ; And on a Palfrey rydes more white then snow. Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold. The surest signe, whereby ye may her know, Is that she is the fairest wight alive, I trow.' 'Now certes, swaine,' (said he) 'such one, I weene. Fast flying through this forest from her fo, A foule ill-favoured foster, I have scene : Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho, But could not stay, so fast she did foregoe. Carried away with wings of speedy feare.' 'Ah, dearest God!' (quoth he) 'that is great woe. And wondrous ruth to all that shall it heare : But can ye read. Sir, how I may her finde, or where ? ' ' Perdy, me lever were to weeten that,' (Saide he) ' then ransome of the richest knight. Or all the good that ever yet I gat : But froward fortune, and too forward Night, Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me spight. And fro me reft both life and light attone. But, Dwarfe, aread what is that Lady bright That through this forrest wandreth thus alone ? For of her errour straunge I have great ruth and mone.' ' That Ladle is,' (quoth he) ' where so she bee. The bountiest virgin and most debonaire That ever living eye, I weene, did see. Lives none this day that may with her compare In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare. The goodly ornaments of beautie bright; And is ycleped Florimell the fayre, Faire Florimell belov'd of manj^a knight, Yet she loves none but one, that Marinell is hight. IX. ' A Sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is hight, Of my deare Dame is loved dearely well : In other none, but him, she sets delight; All her delight is set on Marinell, But he sets nought at all by Florimell ; For Ladies love his motlier long ygoe Did him, they say, forwarne through sa- cred spell : But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe He is yslaine, which is the ground of all our woe. X. * Five daies there be since he (they say) was slaine, And fowre since Florimell the Court for- went, And vowed never to returne againe. Till him alive or dead she did invent. Therefore, faire Sir, for love of knighthood gent. And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may By your good counsel), or bold hardiment, Or succour her, or me direct the way, Do one or other good, I you most humbly pray. CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 231 XI. ' So may ye gaine to you full great re- nowme Of all good Ladies through the worlde so wide, And haply iu her hart finde highest rowme Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide ; At least eteruall meede shall you abide.' To whom the Prince : ' Dwarfe, comfort to thee take, For, till thou tidiugs learne what her be- tide, I here avow thee never to forsake. Ill weares he amies, that nill them use for Ladies sake.' So with the Dwarfe he back retourn'd againe, To seeke his Lady where he mote her fiude ; But by the way he greatly gan complaiue The want of his good Squire late lefte be- hinde. For whom he wondrous pensive grew in minde. For doubt of daunger which mote him be- tide ; For him he loved above all mankinde. Having him trew and faithf ull ever tride, And bold, as ever Squyre that waited by knights side : XIII. Who all this while full hardly was as- sayd Of deadly daunger, which to him betidd ; For, whiles his Lord pursewd that noble Mayd, After that foster fowle he fiercely ridd To bene avenged of the shame he did To that faire Damzell : Him he chaced long Through the thicke woods wherein he would have hid His shameful! head from his avengemeut strong. And oft him threatned death for his out- rageous wrong. Nathlesse the villein sped himselfe so well. Whether through swiftnesse of hisspeedie beast, Or knowledge of those woods where he did dwell, That shortly he from daunger was releast. And out of sight escaped at the least : Yet not escaped from the dew reward Of his bad deedes, which daily he iucreast, Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard The heavie plague that for such leachours is prepard. For soone as he was vanisht out of sight. His coward courage gan emboldned bee, And cast t' avenge him of that fowle de- spight Which he had borne of his bold enimee : Tho to his brethren came, for they were three L^ngratious children of one gracelesse syre. And unto them complayned how that he Had used beene of that foolehardie Squyre : So them with bitter words he stird to bloodie yre. XVI. Forthwith themselves with their sad in- struments Of spoyle and murder they gan arme by- live, And with him foorth into the forrest went To wreake the wrath, which he did earst revive In their sterne brests, on him which late did drive Their brother to reproch and shameful! flight ; For they had vow'd that never he alive Out of that forest should escape their might : Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with sucli despight. XVII. Within that wood there was a covert glade, Foreby a narrow foord, to them well knowne. Through which it was uneath for wight to wade ; And now l)y fortune it was overflowne. By that same way they knew that Squyre unknowne Mote algates passe : forthy themselves they set There in await with thicke woods over- grown e. And all the while their malice they did whet With cruell threats his passage through the ford to let. XVIII. It fortuned, as they devised had : The gentle Squyre came rydiug that same way, 232 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Unweeting of their wile and treason bad, And through the ford to passen did assay ; But that tierce foster, which late fled away, Stoutly foorth stepping on the further shore, Him boldly bad his passage there to stay. Till he had made amends, and full restore For all the damage which he had him doen afore. XIX. With that at him a quiv'ring dart he threw, AVith so fell force, and villehious despite. That through his haberjeon the forkehead flew. And through the linked mayles empierced quite. But had no powre in his soft flesh to bite. That stroke the hardy Squire did sore dis- please. But more that him he could not come to smite ; For by no meanes the high banke he could sease, But labour'd long in that deepe ford with vaine disease. And still the foster with his long bore- speare Him kept from landing at his wished will. Anone one sent out of the thicket neare A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill, And fethered with an unlucky quill: The wicked Steele stayd not till it did light In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill : Exceeding griefe that wound in him em- pight. But more that with his foes he could not come to fight. At last, through wrath and vengeaunce making way. He on the bancke arryvd with mickle payne. Where the third brother him did sore as- say, And drove at him with all his might and mayne A forest-bill, which both his hands did strayne ; But warily he did avoide the blow, And with his speare requited him againe, , That both his sides were thrilled with the throw, And a large streame of blood out of the wound did flow. He, tombling downe, with gnashing | teeth did bite The bitter earth, and bad to lett him in Into the balefull house of endlesse night. Where wicked ghosts doe waile their former sin. Tho gan the battaile freshly to begin ; For nathemore for that spectacle bad Did th' other two their cruell vengeaunce blin. But bothattonceon both sides him bestad. And load upon him layd his life for to have had. XXIII. Tho when that villayn he aviz'd, which late Affrighted had the fairest Florimell, Full of fiers fury and indignant hate To him he turned, and with rigor fell Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell, That to the chin he clefte his head in twaine. Downe on the ground his carkas groveling fell : His sinfull sowle with desperate disdaiue Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place of paine. That seeing, now the only last of three Who with that wicked shafte him wounded had. Trembling with horror, as that did foresee The fearefull end of hisavengement sad, Through which he follow should his breth- ren bad, His bootelesse bow in feeble hand upcaught, And therewith shott an arrow at the lad; Which, fayntly fluttering, scarce his hel- met raught, And glauncing fel to ground, but him an- noyed naught. With that he would have fled into the wood ; But Timias him lightly overhent, Right as he entring was into the flood. And strooke at him with force so violent, That headlesse him into the foord he sent : The carcas with the streame was carried downe. But th' head fell backeward on the Conti- nent ; So mischief fel upon the meaners crowne. They three be dead with sham©, the Squire lives with renowue, CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 33 XXVI. He lives, but takes small joy of his re- nowue ; For of that cruell wound he bled so sore, That from his steed he fell in deadly swowne : Yet still the blood forth gusht iu so great store, That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore. Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest squire alive, Els shall thy loving Lord thee see no more ; But both of comfort him thou shalt de- prive. And eke thy selfe of honor which thou didst atchive. Providence heveuly passeth living thought, And doth for wretched mens reliefe make way; For loe! great grace or fortune thither brought Comfort to him that comf ortlesse now lay. In those same woods ye well remember may How that a noble hunteresse did wonne, 8hee, that base Braggadochio did affray. And make him fast out of the forest ronne ; Belphoebe was her name, as faire as Phcje- bus sunne. XXVIII. She on a day, as shee pursewd the chace Of some wilde beast, which with her arrowes keene She wounded had, the same along did trace By tract of blood, which she had freshly seene To have besprinckled all the grassy greene : By the great persue which she there per- ceav'd. Well hoped shee the beast engor'd had beene, And made more haste the life to have bereav'd ; »But ah ! her expectation greatly was de- ceav'd. XXIX. Shortly she came whereas that wofull Squire, With blood deformed, lay in deadly swownd ; In whose faire eyes, like lamps of quenched fire, The Christall humor stood congealed rownd ; His locks, like faded leaves fallen to grownd, Knotted with blood iu bounches rudely ran ; And his sweete lips, on which before that stownd The bud of youth to blossome faire began, Spoild of their rosy red were woxen pale and wan. XXX. Saw never living eie more heavy sight, That could have made a rocke of stone to rew. Or rive in twaiue : which when that Lady bright. Besides all hope, with melting eies did vew, All suddeinly abasht shee chaunged hew, And with sterne horror backward gan to start ; But when shee better him beheld shee grew Full of soft passion and unwonted smart : The point of pitty perced through her tender hart. Meekely shee bowed downe, to weete if life Yett in his frosen members did remaine; And, feeling by his pulses beating rife That the w^eake sowle her seat did yett retaine. She cast to comfort him with busie paine. His double folded neeke she reard upright, And rubd his temples and each trembling value ; His mayled habergeon she did undight. And from his head his heavy burganet did light. XXXII. Into the woods thenceforth in haste shee went, To seeke for hearbes that mote him remedy ; For shee of herbes had great intendi- ment, Taught of the Nymplie which from her infancy Her uourced had in trew Nobility : Thei'e, whether yt divine Tobacco were, Or Panachffia, or Polygony, Shee fownd, and brought it to her patient deare. Who al this while lay bledhig out his hart-blood neare. XXXIII. The soveraine weede betwixt two mar- bles plaine 234 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Sliee powDded small, and did in peeces bruze ; And then atweene her lilly handes twaine Into his wound the juice thereof did scruze ; And round about, as she could well it uze, The flesh therewith shee suppled and did steepe, T' abate all spasme, and soke the swell- ing bruze ; And, alter having searcht the intuse deepe, She with her scarf did bind the wound from cold to keepe. XXXIV. By this he had sweet life recur'd agayne, And, groning inly deepe, at last his eies, His watry eies drizling like deawy rayne, He up gan lifte toward the azure skies, From whence descend all hopelesse reme- dies: Therewith he sigh'd; and, turning him aside, The goodly Maide, ful of divinities And gifts of heavenly grace, he by him spide. Her bow and gilden quiver lying him be- side. XXXV. ' Mercy, deare Lord ! ' (said he) ' what grace is this That thou hast shewed to me sinfull wight. To send thi)ie Angell from her bowre of blis To comfort me in my distressed plight. Angell, or Goddesse doe I call thee right? What service may I doe unto thee meete, That hast from darken6s me returnd to light, And with thy hevenly salves and med- 'cines sweete Hast drest my sinfull wounds? I kisse thy bles'sed feete.' Thereat she blushing said ; ' Ah ! gentle Squire, Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell ; but the Mayd And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desu-e No service but thy safety and ayd ; Which if thou gaine, I shal be well apayd. Wee mortall wights, whose lives and for- tunes bee To commun accidents stil open layd, Are bownd with commun bond of fra'iltee. To succor wretched wights whom we cap- tived see.' XXXVII. By this her Damzells, which the former chace Had undertaken after her, arryv'd, As did Belphu^be, in the bloody place. And thereby deemd the beast had bene depriv'd Of life, whom late their ladies arrow ryv'd : Forthy the bloody tract they followd fast, And every one to ronne the swiftest stryv'd ; But two of them the rest far overpast. And where their Lady was arrived at the last. XXXVIII. Where when they saw that goodlj'^ boy with blood Defowled, and their Lady dresse his wownd, They wondred much ; and shortly under- stood How him in deadly case theyr Lady fownd, An4 reskewed out of the hea^^ stownd. Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was strayd Farre in the woodes whiles that he lay in swownd, She made those Damzels search ; which being stayd. They did him set theron, and forth with them convayd. Into that forest farre they thence him led, Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant glade With mountaines rownd about environed, And mightie woodes which did the valley shade And like a stately Theatre it made. Spreading it selfe into a spatious plainer And in the midst a little river plaide Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine With gentle murmure that his cours they did restraine. ^ Beside the same a dainty place there lay. Planted with mirtle trees and laurells gi-eene, In which the birds song many a lovely lay Of Gods high praise, and of their loves sweet teene, As it an earthly Paradize had beeue : CANTO v.] THE FAERIE QUEENE. 235 In whose enclosed shadow there was pight A faire Pavilion, scarcely to bee scene, The which was al within most richly dight, That greatest Princes liking it mote well delight. XLI. Thither they brought that wounded Squyre, and layd In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest. He rested him awhile ; and then the Mayd His readie wound with better salves new drest : Daily she dressed him, and did the best His grievous hurt to guarish, that she might ; That shortly she his dolour hath redrest. And his foule sore reduced to faire plight : It she reduced, but himself e destroyed quight. XLII. O foolish physick, and unfruitfull paine, That heales up one, and makes another wound I She his hurt thigh to him recurd againe, • But hurt his hart, the which before was sound, Through an unwary dart, which did re- bownd From her faire eyes and gratious counte- naunce. "What bootes it him from death to be unbownd, To be captived in endlesse duraunce Of sorrow and despeyre without aleg- geaunce ! XLIII. Still as his wound did gather, and grow hole, So still his hart woxe sore, and health decayd : Madnesse to save a part, and lose the whole ! Still whenas he beheld the heavenly Mayd, Whiles dayly playsters to his wownd she »layd, So still his Malady the more increast, . The whiles her matchlesse beautie him dismaj^d. Ah God ! what other could he do at least, But love so fayre a Lady that his life releast ? XLIV. Long while he strove in his corageous brest With reason dew the passion to subdew, And love for to dislodge out of his nest : Still when her excellencies he did vew, Her soveraiue bountie and celestiall hew, The same to love he strongly was con- straynd ; But when his meane estate he did revew, He from such hardy boldnesse was re- straynd. And of his lucklesse lott and cruell love thus playnd : XLV. ' Unthankfull wretch,' (said he) 'is this the meed, With which her soverain mercy thou doest quight? Thy life she saved by her gratious deed ; But thou doest weene with villeinous despight To blott her honour, and her heavenly light. Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so light: Fayre death it is, to shonne more shame, to dy : Dye rather, dy, then ever love disloyally. ' But if to love disloyalty it bee. Shall I then hate her that from deathes do re Me brought? ah, farre be such reproch fro mee ! What can I lesse doe then her love there- fore, Sith I her dew reward cannot restore? Dye rather, dye, and dying doe her serve ; Dying her serve, and living her adore ; Thy life she gave, thy life she doth de- serve : Dye rather, dye, then ever from her ser- vice swerve. XLVII. ' But, foolish boy, what bootes thy ser- vice bace To her to whom the hevens doe serve and sew? Thou, a meane Squyre of meeke and lowly place ; She, hevenly borne and of celestiall hew. How then ? of all love taketh cquall vew ; And doth not highest God vouchsafe to take The love and service of the basest crew ? If she will not, dye meekly for her sake : Dye rather, dye, then ever so faire love forsake ! ' I 236 THE FAERIE QUEENE. [book III. Thus warreid he long time against his will ; Till that through weaknesse he was forst at last To yield himself e unto the mightie ill, Which, as a vietour proud, gan ransack fast His inward partes, and all his entrayles wast, That neither hlood in face nor life in hart It left, but both did quite drye up and blast ; As percing levin, which the inner part Of every thing consumes, and calcineth by art. XLIX. Which seeing fayre Belphcebe gan to feare, Least that his wound were inly well not heald, Or that the wicked Steele empoysned were : Litle shee weend that love he close con- ceald. Yet still he wasted, as the snow congeald When the bright sunne his beams theron doth beat : Yet never he his hart to her reveald ; But rather chose to dye for sorow great, Then with dishonorable termes her to en- treat. li. She, gracious Lady, yet no paines did- spare To doe him ease, or doe him remedy. ISIany Restoratives of vertues rare. And costly Cordialles she did apply. To mitigate his stubborne malady: But that sweet Cordiall, which can re- store A love-sick hart, she did to him envy ; To him, and to all th' unworthy world forlore She did envy that soveraine salve in secret store. LI. That daintie Rose, the daughter of 'her Morne, More deare then life she tendered, whose flowre The girlond of her honour did adorne : Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching powre, Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to show re ; But lapped up her silken leaves most {•ha;