Transcriber’s note
In the HTML version the stanza numbers (indicated by Roman numerals) are
in the left margin. In the EPUB3, EPUB, and Kindle versions,
they are located on the right side after the first
line ends.
THE POETICAL WORKS OF
EDMUND SPENSER
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOLUME II
SPENSER’S
FAERIE QUEENE
EDITED BY
J. C. SMITH
VOLUME I: BOOKS I-III
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
Oxford University Press, Amen House, London E.C.4
GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE WELLINGTON
BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS KARACHI LAHORE DACCA
CAPE TOWN SALISBURY NAIROBI IBADAN ACCRA
KUALA LUMPUR HONG KONG
FIRST PUBLISHED 1909
REPRINTED LITHOGRAPHICALLY IN GREAT BRITAIN
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD
FROM SHEETS OF THE FIRST IMPRESSION
1961, 1964
I.
In these volumes I seek to present a true text of
the Faerie Queene, founded upon a fresh collation of the
Quartos of 1590 and 1596 and the Folio of 1609.
I shall call these editions by their dates for short.
The fragmentary Seventh Book appeared first in 1609:
for the rest the text is based on 1596. Some typographical
peculiarities—long s, &, ô, and superscribed m and n
(e.g. frõ, whẽ)—have not been reproduced, but noted only
where they first occur. With these exceptions, the readings
of 1596 if not adopted in the text are recorded in the
notes; so that text and notes together amount, in effect, to
a complete reprint of 1596. No such completeness has
been attempted in recording variants from 1590 and 1609.
But all verbal differences are recorded, and all differences of
punctuation that imply a different view of the meaning.
Mere changes of spelling that answer to no change of
pronunciation are, as a rule, ignored; but I have recorded
such differences of spelling as seemed likely to interest
students of Elizabethan phonology, grammar, and usage.
The evidence of these variants must be used with caution
in view of Spenser’s deliberate archaism. Yet I believe that
they have some value. I give one instance in each kind:—
1. A fluid e-sound is indicated by the variants
‘seeldome’ 1590, ‘seldome’ 1596, ‘sildom’ 1609, at I. iv.
23, l. 5.
2. Syllabic -es in possessives and plurals, which still
lingered in the early fifteen-nineties, has grown quite strange
to the editor of 1609. To this point I shall return.
[Pg vi]
3. The conjunctions ‘since’ and ‘sith’ are used indifferently
in 1590 and 1596, choice of one or other form
being determined by euphony alone. But 1609 makes
a deliberate, though not quite consistent, attempt to appropriate
‘since’ to the temporal, ‘sith’ to the causal sense.
The attempt unfortunately did not avail to save the more
primitive form.
I have departed from the punctuation of 1596 only where
it seemed likely to puzzle or mislead a modern reader.
These departures, which are all recorded, are not very
numerous. Spenser’s punctuation, though by no means
sacrosanct, is less arbitrary than might at first appear; but,
as Mr. Gregory Smith says of the punctuation of Addison,
it has a rhetorical rather than a logical value. We feel its
force best when we read the poem aloud. Two peculiarities
are so common that the reader may be warned of them here.
One is the absence of punctuation with vocatives: the other
is the single comma after qualifying phrases. With this
warning I leave these peculiarities, as a rule, unchanged.
In the treatment of capitals and in the distribution of
roman and italic type I have followed the same principle of
adhering, wherever possible, to the original text.
I have regularized the spelling of proper names wherever
the variation seemed to be due to the printer rather than the
poet. And this is generally the case with double letters.
But for many variations in proper names Spenser was
himself responsible. He varied them sometimes for the
sake of the metre, as Serena, Serene; or of the rhyme, as
Florimell, Florimele. In two instances he seems actually to
have wavered or changed his mind. Braggadocchio’s name is
generally spelt thus in Book II; in Books III and IV it
varies; in V. iii it is regularly Braggadochio. So we generally
find Arthegall in Book III, but Artegall regularly in Book V;
1609, however, returns to Arthegall.
[Pg vii]
II.
Aiming not at a reprint but a true text, I have not
hesitated to depart from 1596 wherever I believed it to be in
error and the error the printer’s. But it is no part of an
editor’s duty to correct, though he may indicate, mistakes
made by the author himself. There are many such in the
Faerie Queene.
(1) There are mistakes of fact, of literary allusion, of
quantity in classical names, hardly to be avoided by a poet
writing far from libraries.
(2) There are confusions of personages, or of names
of personages, within the poem itself. Sir Guyon is confused
with the Redcrosse Knight in III. ii. 4, and with Prince Arthur
in II. viii. 48 (but not in 1609); Æmylia with Pœana in IV.
ix. Arg.; Calepine with Calidore in VI. vi. 17; while over
Serena Spenser’s confusion becomes comical—he calls her
Crispina in VI. iii. 23,[1] and Matilda in VI. v. Arg.
(3) Some lines are hypermetrical; some are short by
a foot; and there are two or three broken lines. One of
these last (III. iv. 39, l. 7) is certainly intentional, and all
may be so; the supposed example of Virgil may have
influenced Spenser in this.
(4) Imperfect rhymes and concords are numerous,
especially in Books IV, V, and VI.
(5) There is one form of imperfect rhyme so singular
as to deserve a fuller discussion. Its nature will be best
seen in an example:—
‘Like two faire marble pillours they were seene,
Which doe the temple of the Gods support, (2)
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festiuall resort; (4)
Those same with stately grace, and princely port (5)
[Pg viii]
She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,
But with the wooddie Nymphes when she did play, (7)
Or when the flying Libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.’
(II. iii. 28.)
Here ‘play’ in l. 7 is rhymed to ‘support’, ‘resort’,
‘port’: ‘sport’ is the obvious correction. There are, in
all, nine instances of this singularity in the Faerie Queene.
I subjoin them all, citing the rhyme-words only: the
number following each word shows the line that it ends:—
- day (2), dismay (4), way (5), chace (7) (II. ii. 7)
- make (6), bold (8), told (9) (II. ii. 42)
- support (2), resort (4), port (5), play (7) (II. iii. 28)
- leaue (2), cleaue (4), bereaue (5), vpreare (7) (II. viii. 29)
- spyde (6), law (8), draw (9) (III. vi. 40)
- enclose (2), plaine (4), Maine (5), complaine (7) (III. vii. 34)
- times (6), equipage (8), parentage (9) (IV. xi. 17)
- place (2), aread (4), dread (5), read (7) (V. Proem 11)
- desyre (2), entyre (4), yre (5), meed (7) (V. xi. 61)
In every case the correction is obvious: ‘chace’ should be
‘pray’ (i.e. prey); ‘make’, ‘hold’; ‘play’, ‘sport’; ‘vpreare’,
‘vpheaue’; ‘spyde’, ‘saw’; ‘enclose’, ‘containe’; ‘times’,
‘age’; ‘place’, ‘stead’ (as in 1609); ‘meed’, ‘hyre’. The
phenomenon may now be described in general terms: in
these nine places Spenser substitutes for a rhyming word
a metrically equivalent synonym which does not rhyme.
Our analysis shows further that, the rhyme-scheme of the
Spenserian stanza being ababbcbcc, this substitution occurs
only in the first or last of the b-group, or in the first of the
c-group. It seems as if, borne along on the swell of his[Pg ix]
metre and the easy flow of his imagination, two words
identical in sense and metre but different in sound rose to
the poet’s mind almost simultaneously; and the one which
he meant to reject slipped nevertheless from his pen, having
been (we infer) the first to occur. This explains why this
phenomenon always occurs either in the first word of a
rhyme-group, where the rhyme is still undetermined; or, if
in the last, then only in the last of the b-group, where the
ear has already been satisfied with as many as three rhymes;
and why it never occurs in the a-group, where two rhymeless
endings would at once have alarmed the ear. I have
dwelt on this phenomenon at some length because it is, so far
as I know, peculiar to Spenser.[2]
(6) I must glance at another, though a rare, source of
error. Our sage and serious Spenser was a thoughtful,
even a philosophic writer; but his thought is large, simple,
contemplative, not acute and analytic. When he has to deal
with a subtle or complex situation he sometimes involves
himself inextricably. If any lover of Spenser resent this
judgement, let him apply his devotion to explain or emend
II. v. 12, ll. 8 and 9; V. vi. 5, ll. 6 and 7; V. vi. 26,
ll. 5 and 6: to me these passages appear incorrigible.
III.
The first mention of the Faerie Queene occurs in a letter
of Spenser’s to Gabriel Harvey, dated Quarto Nonas Aprilis
1580. ‘I wil in hande forthwith,’ he writes, ‘with my
Faery Queene, whyche I praye you hartily send me with al
expedition: and your frendly Letters, and long expected
[Pg x]Judgement wythal.’ ‘I haue nowe sent hir home at the
laste,’ writes Harvey in reply. These phrases show that
the parcel of the Faerie Queene had been in Harvey’s hands
for some considerable time. The poem must therefore have
been begun not later than 1579. Now in 1579 Spenser
was an inmate of Leicester House, and the constant associate
of Sir Philip Sidney. There is therefore no reason to
doubt the assertion of W. L. in his commendatory verses
that by Sidney the poem was originally inspired.
Harvey’s long-expected judgement, when it came, was
far from favourable. But the poet was not discouraged,
and doubtless took the manuscript with him when he went
to Ireland with Lord Grey in August, 1580. Though he
afterwards spoke of the poem as ‘wilde fruit which salvage
soyl hath bred’, there is some reason to think that he had
actually written as much as a book and a half before he left
England. For though allusions to Ireland are not rare in
the Faerie Queene, the first of them occurs in II. ix. 16.[3]
Moreover, the industry of commentators has discovered in
Book I only one imitation of Tasso’s Gierusalemme Liberata,
[Pg xi]and that doubtful[4] (I. vii. 31); undoubted imitations begin
to appear in II. v, vi, vii, viii, and II. xii blazes with spoils
from the Garden of Armida. Now the Gierusalemme Liberata
was published in 1581; an imperfect edition had been issued
surreptitiously in 1580.
Our next glimpse of the Faerie Queene we owe to
Lodovick Bryskett, whose Discourse of Civill Life, though not
published till 1606, purports to record a conversation held
in his cottage near Dublin as early, it would seem, as the
spring of 1583. Spenser is one of the interlocutors. He
is made to say that he has already undertaken a work ‘which
is in heroical verse under the title of a Faerie Queene’; which
work he has ‘already well entered into’. The company
express an ‘extreme longing’ after this Faerie Queene,
‘whereof some parcels had been by some of them seene’.
Parcels of the Faerie Queene had been seen, it appears, not
only by Spenser’s friends in Dublin, but by his literary
contemporaries in London. I. v. 2 is imitated in Peele’s
David and Bethsabe (date unknown, but probably before
1590). I. vii. 32 and I. viii. 11 are imitated in Act IV,
Sc. 4 and Act IV, Sc. 3 respectively of the second part of
Marlowe’s Tamburlaine (published 1590, but acted some years
earlier). Finally, Abraham Fraunce in his Arcadian Rhetorike
(1588) quotes Spenser ‘in his Fairie Queene, 2 booke,
cant. 4’. Fraunce’s quotation is the more interesting inasmuch
as it shows that by 1588[5] the F. Q. had not only
been composed, but disposed into its present arrangement of
[Pg xii]books and cantos so far at least as II. iv. It is worth
remarking that all these imitations of and quotations from
F. Q. before it was published are from that part of the
poem which we have seen some reason to think was written
before Spenser left England. Allusions in the poem shed
no certain light on the progress of its composition.
There is no reason to suppose that Spenser composed
the whole of the F. Q. in the order in which he gave
it to the world. It is more likely that he worked up
many incidents and episodes as they occurred to him, and
afterwards placed them in the poem. We know that the
Wedding of Thames and Medway, which now forms IV. xi, is
a redaction of an Epithalamium Thamesis which he originally
undertook as an experiment in quantitative metre before
April, 1580. And it seems probable that the Legendes and
Court of Cupid mentioned by E. K. in his preface to the
Shepheards Calender, as well as the Pageaunts[6] mentioned in
the Glosse on June, were similarly worked over and incorporated
in the F. Q.
Combining these pieces of evidence, we receive the
impression that for some time after he came to Ireland
Spenser worked but intermittently on the F. Q., resuming
the regular composition and arrangement of the poem about
the time when he ceased to reside in Dublin.[7] By 1588—the
date of Fraunce’s quotation—he may have already been
settled at Kilcolman. There, at least, Raleigh found him
in 1589, and was shown the poem; with the result that in
the autumn of that year Spenser accompanied Raleigh to
London, and set about the publication of Books I-III.
[Pg xiii]
The volume was licensed to William Ponsonbye on Dec. 1,
1589. Spenser’s explanatory letter to Raleigh bears date
Jan. 23, 1589 (i. e. 1590 N. S.). In the course of 1590, but
not before March 25, the volume was published. The
printing shows some signs of haste; there is a long list of
errata or ‘Faults Escaped in the Print’. This list, though
not itself faultless, is of paramount authority in determining
the text of Books I-III; it is cited in the notes as F. E.
In 1591 Spenser returned to Ireland, a disappointed man.
I fear that Burleigh had taken occasion of the Milesian tone
of certain episodes in Book III to stir the ashes of an old
resentment: the second part of F. Q. begins and ends with
complaints of misconstruction by that ‘mighty Pere’. But
once back at Kilcolman he resumed his task. At first
the stream of poetry flows languidly. The fable rambles,
dispersing its force in many channels, like a river choked with
sand; the verse flags; the play of alliteration is fitful; and
Spenser essays a new, but to my ear an unhappy, variation in
the form of a feminine ending.[8] But presently he gathers
strength again under some new influence, which one would
fain associate with his courtship of Elizabeth Boyle. The
treatment of Britomart in Book V has strong, dramatic touches
beyond anything in the earlier books; and in the lovely
pastoral episodes of Book VI the poet lives once more in Arcadia.
But positive indications of date are very rare. Book V
Canto xi must be later than July 25, 1593, when Henri IV
heard that mass which was the price of Paris: the singular
dislocation of the Argument to Canto xii—half of which
refers to the incidents of Canto xi—suggests that this Burbon
episode was an afterthought; that it was inserted after Book V
had been disposed into Cantos; and that Spenser meant it
to form part of Canto xii. On the ordinary interpretation
[Pg xiv]of the Amoretti,[9] all these books were finished before, but not
long before, his wedding on June 11, 1594 (v. Sonnet 80);
and on any interpretation they must have been finished by
1595, when Sir Robert Needham brought the manuscript of
the Amoretti to London. Yet Spenser may have added and
retouched up to the date of publication. For, in spite of
Sonnet 80, I have fancied that when he wrote certain descriptions
in Books V and VI Spenser was not only a husband
but a father. See especially V. v. 53 (simile of the nurse
and infant); V. vi. 14 (the child crying in the night); VI. iv.
18, 23, 24 (Calepine’s treatment of the foundling, which should
be compared with Guyon’s behaviour in a similar situation, II.
ii. 1); also VI. iv. 37, particularly line 8. Now Spenser’s
eldest child was born in 1595. This may be fanciful. What
is certain is that towards the close of 1595 Spenser followed
Needham to London with the manuscript of the second part
of F. Q. It was licensed to Ponsonbye on Jan. 20, 1596, and
published by autumn of that year. James VI took offence at
the treatment of Duessa, and had to be appeased by the English
Ambassador, whose letter detailing the incident is dated
Nov. 12, 1596. The new edition was in two volumes, the
first being a reprint, with alterations, of 1590.
Late in 1596, or early in 1597, Spenser returned to
Ireland. In 1598 Tyrone’s rebellion broke out. In
October the rebels attacked and burned Kilcolman Castle.
Spenser fled to Cork, whence in December he made his way
to London; and there, on Jan. 16, 1599, he died. Ten
years after his death a folio edition of F. Q. was published
by Mathew Lownes, which added to the six books already
published two Cantos of Mutabilitie, ‘which, both for Forme
[Pg xv]and Matter, appeare to be parcell of some following Booke of
the Faerie Queene, vnder the Legend of Constancie.’ These
two cantos, with two stanzas of a third, are all that remain
of the third part of F. Q. Whether Spenser wrote more is
unknown. But the fact that the two cantos are numbered
vi and vii makes it fairly certain that he had at least
sketched the whole Seventh Book. I cannot accept the
view that these two cantos are an independent poem, in the
sense that they were not designed to form part of F. Q.
The lines (VII. vi. 37)—
‘And, were it not ill fitting for this file,
To sing of hilles and woods, mongst warres and Knights’—
show clearly that they were so designed. That they
may have been written independently, in the sense in
which the Wedding of Thames and Medway was written
independently, I am not concerned to deny. The view
that these cantos are spurious is unworthy of serious
discussion. If they are spurious, there must have been
living in 1609 an unknown poet who could write the
Spenserian style and stanza as well as Spenser at his best.
For there is nothing of its kind in F. Q. superior to the
pageant[10] of the months and seasons; and no one who really
knows Spenser can doubt that the two stanzas which alone
remain of the ‘vnperfite’ eighth canto came from his heart.
IV.
The chief critical problem that confronts an editor of F. Q.
concerns the text of Books I-III. Should the text of these
books be based on 1590 or on 1596? I have chosen the
latter. And I have done so, in the main, for a quite general
[Pg xvi]reason. 1596 was produced under Spenser’s eye and by his
authority. That authority must be held to cover both
volumes, not the second only. Behind this we cannot go.
The case is quite different with the later quartos of the
Shepheards Calender, which were produced in Spenser’s absence.
This general position is confirmed by a minute comparison
of 1590 and 1596. To take the more massive changes
first: in 1 596 Spenser completely remodelled the conclusion
of Book III. Instead of bringing Scudamour and Amoret
together, as in 1590, he left them still parted, hoping thus
to prolong the interest of their story into Book IV, and so to
form a link between the two volumes, which he desired to
be read as one continuous poem. For this he sacrificed five
glorious stanzas, one of them the most rapturous that he
ever wrote. The three stanzas which he substituted are far
inferior, as he must have known; but they served his
purpose. He also added a new stanza at I. xi. 3. He
rewrote single lines, in the interests of sound or sense; he
altered single words or phrases; and he made—what is even
more significant—several minute changes of order designed
to improve the rhythm. Let me add that most of these
changes are more happily inspired than the second-thoughts
of poets have sometimes been.
I hasten to make two admissions. The first volume of
1596 was not reset afresh from Spenser’s manuscript. It
was printed from a copy of 1590. In the nature of the case,
while it escapes some of the blunders of its original, it
reproduces others, and perpetrates some new. Nor did
Spenser do more than glance at the proof. The 1596
volumes, as we have seen, were printed rapidly; the poet
was busy,[11] and such time as he had for proof-reading was
[Pg xvii]given to the new books. I infer that the alterations which
he made in 1590 were made not on the proof, but on the
copy. In no other way can we account for that combination
of author’s corrections with printer’s errors which marks the
first volume of 1596. And this conclusion is strengthened
by another consideration. It is one of the worst faults of
1596 that it so often ignores F. E. But the significance of
the fault has been overlooked. Making corrections on the
copy, Spenser did not trouble himself about errors that he
had already noted in F. E.; had he made his corrections on
the proof, they could not have escaped him.
I believe this to be a true account of the relations of these
two texts. But when all is said there remain many places
where we cannot pronounce on mere inspection whether an
alteration is the author’s or the printer’s, but must be
guided by a calculation of probabilities, inclining (e. g.) to
the author where there is clear evidence of his hand in the
neighbourhood of the vexed passage, to the printer where the
ductus litterarum in both readings is suspiciously alike. The
most important of these places are discussed in the Critical
Appendix to Vol. III.
Has 1609 any independent authority? In the main a
reprint of 1596, it is certainly a respectable piece of work,
in punctuation especially far more logical and consistent than
either of the quartos: the editor seldom fails to show exactly
how he understands his text. Our respect for 1609 would
be enhanced if we could believe that the editor was Gabriel
Harvey, as Todd at one time fancied. But that notion is
untenable, and Todd himself abandoned it. We may go
further: the editor of 1609 did not belong to the generation
of Harvey and Spenser. For this conclusion I will adduce
only one piece of evidence, but it is decisive. In the last
decade of the sixteenth century syllabic -es in possessives
and plurals still lingered even in verse not deliberately[Pg xviii]
archaic. But it was strange to the editor of 1609. Sometimes
he remarks it, and signalizes his discovery by printing
it -ez, as ‘woundez’, ‘beastez’, ‘clothez’. Sometimes he fails
to remark it, and fills up the syllable by conjecture: thus
‘Nightes children’ becomes ‘Nights drad children’ (I. v. 23);
‘th’Earthes gloomy shade’ becomes ‘the Earthes gloomy
shade’ (III. x. 46). He seems, moreover, to have made
little or no use of 1590. When, as sometimes happens,
a word has been dropped in 1596, he emends by conjecture:
thus at I. ii. 29:—
‘For the coole shade him thither hastly got’ 1590;
‘For the coole shade thither hastly got’ 1596;
‘For the coole shadow thither hast’ly got’ 1609.
Cf. also III. ix. 13, l. 9, III. xi. 26, l. 7, &c. The few
instances in which 1590 and 1609 agree as against 1596
may fairly be set down to coincidence.
Yet I am disposed to assign some independent authority
to 1609.[12] The grounds for this view are slight, and may be
stated in full:—
(1) At I. x. 20, l. 5, 1609 adds the missing line, ‘Dry-shod
to passe, she parts the flouds in tway.’
(2) At II. viii. 48, l. 8, it corrects ‘Sir Guyon’ to ‘Prince
Arthur’.
(3) At III. iii. 50, l. 9, it completes the imperfect
Alexandrine by adding ‘as earst’.
(4) At III. vi. 45, l. 4, it adds a broken line, ‘And
dearest loue,’ to an eight-line stanza.
(5) At IV. xii. 13, ll. 1, 2, 1596 reads:—
‘Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth
Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide’;
[Pg xix]
1609 reads:—
‘Thus whilst his stony heart was toucht with tender ruth,
And mighty courage something mollifide.’
(6) At V. Proem 11, l. 2, it reads ‘stead’ for the non-rhyming
‘place’.
Of these changes, (2) and (3) are not beyond the capacity
of an ordinary editor; yet it is worth noting that 1609 does
not correct other confusions of names almost as obvious as
(2). Even the missing line (1), Spenserian as it sounds,
might conceivably be editorial. But to add a broken line,
like (4), seems to me a touch beyond an editor. And (5) is
most easily explained by supposing that Spenser altered the
text, meaning to omit ‘tender’, but left that word standing.
(6) is an instance of a phenomenon that has already been
discussed. The significant point is that this is the only
instance of that phenomenon which is corrected in 1609.
An editor who corrected one of these mistakes might be
expected to correct others; but the author who perpetrated
these non-rhymes would more easily overlook them.
The addition of the Mutabilitie cantos in 1609 must be
allowed to create a prejudice in favour of the view for
which I argue. The editor who recovered so much of
Spenser’s manuscript may have recovered more: parcels
of F. Q., as we have seen, were handed about in London in
Spenser’s absence. Or—and the form of the variants at
IV. xii. 13 makes this the more probable hypothesis—the
editor of 1609 may have had a copy of 1596 with some
corrections by the author. Finally, it is not impossible that
these corrections were actually embodied in exemplars of
1596 which no longer survive. Elizabethan writers were in
the habit of correcting sheets as they passed through the
press: in F. Q. itself I have noted more than a score of
places in which the readings of the copies used for this[Pg xx]
edition differ from those of other copies in the Bodleian or
the British Museum, or of copies used by previous editors;
and the notes of Church, Upton, and Todd show that they
had seen copies which differ in minute points from any now
available. As the sheets were probably bound indiscriminately,
it is possible that no two exemplars exactly correspond.
The charges of careless collation freely bandied among
Spenser’s editors are sometimes due to this cause.
It remains for me to acknowledge with gratitude the
unwearied help that I have received in preparing this
edition, first, from my wife, who read 1609 with me twice;
next, from my friend Dr. Soutar, of University College,
Dundee, who revised the difficult proofs of Books I-III;
last, from an unknown coadjutor, Mr. Ostler of the
Clarendon Press, to whose skill and vigilance above all
I owe whatever measure of accuracy has been secured. An
edition like this has little claim to any higher virtue; yet
perfect accuracy, even, is too much to hope for in the
reproduction, by ordinary typography, of the original
spelling and punctuation of a poem which runs to more than
35,000 lines. In the Critical Appendix I have called
attention to one or two places in which I have noted
what now seem to me to be errors, or on which I have
changed my mind since the sheets were printed.
I have also to thank Sir James Murray, Dr. Bradley, and
Dr. Craigie for information on points of lexicography; and
Mr. Charles Cannan for the protracted loan of his copy of
the first folio.
J. C. Smith.
St. Andrews,
September, 1909.
[Pg xxi]
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
Of the copies collated for this edition, three are in the Bodleian, viz.:—
(1) Malone 615, Books I-III, 1590.
(2) Malone 616, Books IV-VI, 1596.
(3) 4o Art. Seld. S. 22, Books I-VI, 1596 (collated for Books I-III).
For 1609 I have used (4) a copy belonging to Mr. Charles Cannan.
The following copies, though not collated verbatim, have been examined
for variants:—
| (5) |
Malone 7, 1609 |
|
} |
|
| (6) |
M. 4. 5 Art. |
{ Books I-III, 1611 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VII, 1612 |
} |
in the Bodleian. |
| (7) |
Douce S. 817 |
{ Books I-III, 1609 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VII, 1613 |
} |
|
| |
|
|
|
|
| (8) |
G. 11535, 6 |
{ Books I-III, 1590 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VI, 1596 |
} |
|
| (9) |
C. 12. h. 17, 18 |
{ Books I-III, 1590 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VI, 1596 |
} |
|
| (10) |
686 g. 21, 22, 1596 |
|
} |
|
| (11) |
G. 11537, 1596 |
|
} |
in the British Museum. |
| (12) |
C. 57. f. 6, 1609 |
|
} |
|
| (13) |
78 g. 13 |
{ Books I-III, 1609 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VII, 1613 |
} |
|
| (14) |
79 h. 23 |
{ Books I-III, 1611 |
} |
|
| |
|
{ Books IV-VII, 1613 |
} |
|
The bibliographical note on Spenser in the Dictionary of National
Biography appears to ignore 4o Art. Seld. S. 22.
The 1590, 1596, 1609 editions of F. Q. have been described already.
In 1611 Lownes (the publisher of the 1609 F. Q.) set about a complete
edition of Spenser’s poems. But having on hand unsold copies of 1609, he
incorporated parts of these under the new title-page.[13] This has happened
to (6), the first part of which is identical with 1609, except for the title-page
and dedication. The genuine 1611 edition of F. Q. I-III is represented by
[Pg xxii]
the first part of (14). The second part of (6), bearing date 1612, has been
reset: it is identical with the second parts of (7), (13), (14), which bear
date 1613. No 1611 edition of F. Q. IV-VII is known to me. But in the
footnotes I have followed the custom of citing this ‘Second Folio’ as 1611,
except where readings not found by me in editions prior to 1612-13 have been
attributed to 1609 by previous editors, misled perhaps by the omission from
the British Museum catalogue of the second title to (13). In the Critical
Appendix on Books IV-VII I cite this Second Folio (for these Books)
as 16(11)-12-13.
Subsequent editions of Spenser’s works:—The folios of 1617, 1679
(the latter said to have been overseen by Dryden); ed. J. Hughes, 1715;
H. J. Todd, 1805; F. J. Child, 1855; J. P. Collier, 1862; R. Morris,
1869; A. B. Grosart, 1882-4.
Separate editions of Faerie Queene:—ed. J. Upton, 1758; R. Church,
1758-9; Kate M. Warren, 1897-1900.
Commentaries:—Remarks on Spenser’s Poems, by J. Jortin, 1734.
Observations on the Faerie Queene, by T. Warton, 1754.
[For the matter of this note I am largely indebted to Mr. Ostler and
Mr. Percy Simpson.]
THE FAERIE QVEENE.
| |
|
PAGE |
| Dedication to Qveen Elizabeth |
|
2 |
| BOOK I. |
The Legende of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Holinesse |
3 |
| BOOK II. |
The Legend of Sir Gvyon, or of Temperavnce |
165 |
| BOOK III. |
The Legend of Britomartis, or of Chastitie |
342 |
| APPENDIX. |
Stanzas omitted in the Second Edition (1596) |
517 |
THE FAERIE
QVEENE.
Disposed into twelue bookes,
Fashioning
XII. Morall vertues.
LONDON
Printed for VVilliam Ponsonbie.
1596.
TO
THE MOST HIGH,
MIGHTIE
And
MAGNIFICENT
EMPRESSE RENOVVMED
FOR PIETIE, VERTVE,
AND ALL GRATIOVS
GOVERNMENT ELIZABETH BY
THE GRACE OF GOD QVEENE
OF ENGLAND FRAVNCE AND
IRELAND AND OF VIRGINIA,
DEFENDOVR OF THE
FAITH, &c. HER MOST
HVMBLE SERVAVNT
EDMVND SPENSER
DOTH IN ALL HVMILITIE
DEDICATE,
PRESENT
AND CONSECRATE THESE
HIS LABOVRS TO LIVE
VVITH THE ETERNITIE
OF HER
FAME.
THE FIRST
BOOKE OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.
Contayning
THE LEGENDE OF THE
KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE,
OR
OF HOLINESSE.
Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, i
As time her taught
[14], in lowly Shepheards weeds,
Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To blazon broad emongst
[15] her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song.
Helpe then, O
[16] holy Virgin chiefe of nine,
iiThy weaker Nouice to performe thy will,
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his vndeserued wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.
[Pg 4]
And thou most dreaded impe of highest Ioue, iii
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart
At that good knight so cunningly didst roue,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,
In loues and gentle iollities arrayd,
After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.
And with them eke, O Goddesse heauenly bright, iv
Mirrour of grace and Maiestie diuine,
Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my
[17] feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughts 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 dred a-while.
The Patron of true Holinesse,
Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie him to entrapp’[18],
Doth to his home entreate.
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, i
Y cladd in mightie armes and siluer shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
The cruell markes of many’ a bloudy
[19] fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he neuer wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full iolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
But
[20] on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,
iiThe deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as liuing euer him ador’d:
Vpon his shield the like was also scor’d,
For soueraine 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 euer was ydrad.
Vpon a great aduenture he was bond, iii
That greatest Gloriana to him gaue,
That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond,
To winne him worship, and her grace to haue,
Which of all earthly things he most did craue;
And euer as he rode, his hart did earne
To proue his puissance in battell braue
Vpon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Vpon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.
[Pg 6]
A louely Ladie rode him faire beside, iv
Vpon a lowly Asse more white then snow,
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Vnder a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And ouer all a blacke stole she did throw,
As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
And heauie sat
[21] vpon her palfrey slow:
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.
So pure an innocent
[22], as that same lambe,
vShe was in life and euery vertuous lore,
And by descent from Royall lynage came
Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore,
And all the world in their subiection held;
Till that infernall feend with foule vprore
Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:
Whom to auenge, she had this Knight from far compeld
[23].
Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag, vi
That lasie seemd in being euer last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,
The day with cloudes was suddeine ouercast,
And angry Ioue an hideous storme of raine
Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,
That euery wight to shrowd it did constrain,
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselues were fain.
Enforst to seeke some couert nigh at hand, vii
A shadie groue not far away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:
Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heauens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starre:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farre:
Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.
[Pg 7]
And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, viii
Ioying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which therein shrouded from the tempest
[24] dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar neuer dry,
The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,
The Aspine good for staues, the Cypresse funerall.
The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours ix
And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,
The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,
The Eugh obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
The Mirrhe sweete
[25] bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitfull Oliue, and the Platane round,
The caruer Holme, the Maple seeldom
[26] inward sound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way, x
Vntill the blustring storme is ouerblowne;
When weening to returne, whence they did stray,
They
[27] cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in wayes vnknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
That which of them to take, in diuerse doubt they been.
At last resoluing forward still to fare, xi
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 hollow caue,
Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser braue,
And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gaue.
[Pg 8]
Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde, xii
Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash prouoke:
The danger hid, the place vnknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
And perill without show: therefore your stroke
[28]Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.
Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to reuoke
The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue giues her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.
Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place xiii
I better wot then you, though now too late
[29]To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the wandring 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 liuing men.
But full of fire and greedy hardiment, xiv
The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,
But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,
And looked in: his glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
By which he saw the vgly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,
But th’other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.
And as she lay vpon the durtie ground, xv
Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound,
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
Sucking vpon her poisonous
[30] dugs, eachone
Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored:
Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone,
Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.
[Pg 9]
Their dam vpstart, out of her den effraide, xvi
And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her cursed head, whose folds displaid
Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle
Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;
For light she hated as the deadly bale,
Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,
Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any plaine.
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiu’d
[31], he lept
xviiAs Lyon fierce vpon the flying pray,
And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, and forced her to stay:
Therewith enrag’d she loudly gan to bray,
And turning fierce, her speckled taile aduaunst,
Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:
Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:
The stroke down from her head vnto her shoulder glaunst.
Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd, xviii
Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,
And all attonce her beastly body raizd
With doubled forces high aboue the ground:
Tho wrapping vp her wrethed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine
All suddenly about his body wound,
That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine:
God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.
His Lady sad to see his sore constraint, xix
Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye
[32] bee,
Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint:
Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.
That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,
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.
[Pg 10]
Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw xx
A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,
Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,
Which stunck so vildly
[33], 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,
And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:
Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.
As when old father Nilus gins to swell xxi
With timely pride aboue the Ægyptian vale,
His fattie waues do fertile slime outwell,
And ouerflow each plaine and lowly dale:
But when his later spring
[34] gins to auale
[35],
Huge heapes of mudd he leaues, wherein there breed
Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male
And partly female of his fruitfull seed;
Such vgly monstrous shapes elswhere may no man reed.
The same so sore annoyed has the knight, xxii
That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,
His forces fade, ne can no longer
[36] fight.
Whose corage when the feend perceiu’d 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 crall,
And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.
As gentle Shepheard in sweete euen-tide, xxiii
When ruddy
Phœbus[37] gins to welke in west,
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;
A cloud of combrous
[38] gnattes do him molest,
All striuing to infixe their feeble stings,
That from their noyance he no where can rest,
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
[Pg 11]
Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame, xxiv
Then of the certaine perill he stood in,
Halfe furious vnto his foe he came,
Resolv’d in minde all suddenly to win,
Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;
And strooke
[39] at her with more then manly force,
That from her body full of filthie sin
He raft
[40] her hatefull head without remorse;
A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse.
Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare xxv
They saw so rudely falling to the ground,
Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,
Gathred themselues about her body round,
Weening their wonted entrance to haue found
At her wide mouth: but being there withstood
They flocked all about her bleeding wound
[41],
And sucked vp their dying mothers blood,
Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.
That detestable sight him much amazde, xxvi
To see th’vnkindly Impes of heauen accurst,
Deuoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,
Hauing 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
[42] labour spend,
His foes haue slaine themselues, with whom he should contend.
His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre xxvii
Approcht in hast
[43] to greet his victorie,
And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,
Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:
Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
Wherein ye haue great glory wonne this day,
And proou’d your strength on a strong enimie,
Your first aduenture: many such I pray,
And henceforth euer wish, that like succeed it may.
[Pg 12]
Then mounted he vpon his Steede againe, xxviii
And with the Lady backward sought to wend;
That path he kept, which beaten was most plaine,
Ne euer would to any by-way bend,
But still did follow one vnto the end,
The which at last out of the wood them brought.
So forward on his way (with God to frend)
He passed
[44] forth, and new aduenture sought;
Long way he trauelled, before he heard of ought.
At length they chaunst to meet vpon the way xxix
An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,
His feete 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 voyde 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, xxx
Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:
And after asked him, if he did know
Of straunge aduentures, which abroad did pas.
Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas,
Silly old man, that liues in hidden cell,
Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,
Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?
With holy father sits
[45] not with such things to mell.
But if of daunger
[46] which hereby doth dwell,
xxxiAnd homebred euill
[47] ye desire to heare,
Of a straunge
[48] man I can you tidings tell,
That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.
Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,
And shall you
[49] well reward to shew the place,
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,
That such a cursed creature liues so long a space.
[Pg 13]
Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse xxxii
His dwelling is, by which no liuing wight
May euer passe, but thorough great distresse.
Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,
And well I wote, that of your later fight
Ye all forwearied
[50] be: for what so strong,
But wanting rest will also want of might?
The Sunne that measures heauen all day long,
At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waues emong.
Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest, xxxiii
And with new day new worke at once begin:
Vntroubled night they say giues counsell best.
Right well Sir knight ye haue aduised bin,
(Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win
Is wisely to aduise: now day is spent;
Therefore with me ye may take vp your In
For this same night. The knight was well content:
So with that godly father to his home they went.
A little lowly Hermitage it was, xxxiv
Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,
Far from resort of people, that did pas
In trauell to and froe: a little wyde
There was an holy Chappell edifyde,
Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say
His holy things each morne and euentyde:
Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,
Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.
Arriued there, the little house they fill, xxxv
Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:
Rest is their feast, and all things at their will;
The noblest mind the best contentment has.
With faire discourse the euening so they pas:
For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,
And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;
He told of Saintes and Popes, and euermore
[51]He strowd an Aue-Mary after and before.
[Pg 14]
The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast, xxxvi
And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,
As messenger of Morpheus on them cast
Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.
Vnto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:
Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,
He to his study goes, and there amiddes
His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,
He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes.
Then choosing out few wordes most horrible, xxxvii
(Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,
With which and other spelles like terrible,
He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame,
And cursed heauen, and spake reprochfull shame
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;
A bold bad man, that dar’d to call by name
Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night,
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.
And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred xxxviii
Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes
Fluttring about his euer damned hed,
A-waite whereto their seruice he applyes,
To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:
Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,
And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;
The one of them he gaue a message too,
The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.
He making speedy way through spersed ayre, xxxix
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 neuer peepe,
His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed
Doth euer wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe
In siluer deaw his euer-drouping hed,
Whiles sad Night ouer him her mantle black doth spred.
[Pg 15]
Whose double gates he findeth locked fast, xl
The one faire fram’d of burnisht Yuory,
The other all with siluer ouercast;
And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye,
Watching to banish Care their enimy,
Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe
[52].
By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,
And vnto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe
In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.
And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, xli
A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe
And euer-drizling
[53] raine vpon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, 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 enemyes.
The messenger approching to him spake, xlii
But his wast
[54] wordes returnd
[55] to him in vaine:
So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.
Then rudely he him thrust
[56], 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
[57] and fancies weake,
He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.
The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake, xliii
And threatned vnto him the dreaded name
Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,
And lifting vp his lumpish
[58] head, with blame
Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.
Hither
[59] (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.
[Pg 16]
The God obayde, and calling forth straight way xliv
A diuerse dreame out of his prison darke,
Deliuered it to him, and downe did lay
His heauie head, deuoide of carefull carke,
Whose sences all were straight benumbd and starke.
He backe returning by the Yuorie dore,
Remounted vp as light as chearefull Larke,
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
In hast vnto his Lord, where he him left afore.
Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes, xlv
Had made a Lady of that other Spright,
And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes
So liuely, and so like in all mens sight,
That weaker sence it could haue rauisht quight:
The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:
Her all in white he clad, and ouer it
Cast a blacke stole, most like to seeme for Vna fit.
Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought, xlvi
Vnto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
Where he slept soundly void of euill thought,
And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,
In sort as he him schooled priuily:
And that new creature borne without her dew,
Full of the makers guile, with vsage
[60] sly
He taught to imitate that Lady trew,
Whose semblance she did carrie vnder feigned hew.
Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast, xlvii
And comming where the knight in slomber lay,
The one vpon his hardy head him plast,
And made him dreame of loues and lustfull play,
That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked ioy:
Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,
And to him playnd, how that false winged boy
[61]Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame pleasures toy.
[Pg 17]
And she her selfe of beautie soueraigne Queene, xlviii
Faire Venus seemde vnto his bed to bring
Her, whom he waking euermore did weene
[62]To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
Now a loose Leman to vile seruice bound:
And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,
Hymen iõ Hymen, dauncing all around,
Whilst freshest
Flora her with
[63] Yuie girlond crownd.
In this great passion of vnwonted lust, xlix
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
He started
[64] vp, as seeming to mistrust
[65]Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:
Lo there before his face his Lady is,
Vnder blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,
And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
With gentle blandishment and louely looke,
Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.
All cleane dismayd to see so vncouth sight, l
And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought haue
[66] slaine her in his fierce despight:
But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe aduise
To proue his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.
Wringing her hands in wemens
[67] pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre vp gentle ruth,
Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.
And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my loue, li
Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,
And mightie causes wrought in heauen aboue,
Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,
For hoped loue 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 auenging destinie
Hath made iudge of my life or death indifferently.
[Pg 18]
Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leaue lii
My Fathers kingdome, There she stopt with teares;
Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereaue,
And then againe begun
[68], My weaker yeares
Captiu’d to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:
Let me not dye in languor and long teares.
Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?
What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?
Loue of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint liii
Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night
In secret anguish and vnpittied plaint,
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.
Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
Suspect her truth: yet since no’vntruth
[69] he knew,
Her fawning loue with foule disdainefull spight
He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,
That for my sake vnknowne such griefe vnto you grew.
Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground; liv
For all so deare as life is to my hart,
I deeme your loue, 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 appease
Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,
And fed with words, that could not chuse
[70] but please,
So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.
Long after lay he musing at her mood, lv
Much grieu’d to thinke that gentle Dame so light,
For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
At last dull wearinesse of former fight
Hauing yrockt a sleepe 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 againe.
The guilefull great Enchaunter parts
The Redcrosse Knight from Truth:
Into whose stead[71] faire falshood steps,
And workes him wofull ruth.
By this the Northerne wagoner had set i
His seuenfold teme behind the stedfast starre,
That was in Ocean waues yet neuer wet,
But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
To all, that in the wide deepe wandring arre:
And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill
Had warned once, that Phœbus fiery carre
In hast was climbing vp the Easterne hill,
Full enuious that night so long his roome did fill.
When those accursed messengers of hell, ii
That feigning dreame, and that faire-forged Spright
Came to their wicked maister, and gan tell
Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeeding night:
Who all in rage to see his skilfull might
Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine
And sad Proserpines wrath, them to affright.
But when he saw his threatning was but vaine,
He cast about, and searcht his balefull bookes againe.
Eftsoones he tooke that miscreated faire, iii
And that false other Spright, on whom he spred
A seeming body of the subtile aire,
Like a young Squire, in loues and lusty-hed
[72]His wanton dayes that euer loosely led,
Without regard of armes and dreaded fight:
Those two he tooke, and in a secret bed,
Couered with darknesse and misdeeming night,
Them both together laid, to ioy in vaine delight.
[Pg 20]
Forthwith he runnes with feigned faithfull hast iv
Vnto his guest, who after troublous sights
And dreames, gan now to take more sound repast,
Whom suddenly he wakes with fearefull frights,
As one aghast with feends or damned sprights,
And to him cals, Rise rise vnhappy Swaine,
That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked wights
Haue knit themselues in Venus shamefull chaine;
Come see, where your false Lady doth her honour
[73] staine.
All in amaze he suddenly vp start v
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 lewd embracement
[74]:
Which when he saw, he burnt with gealous fire,
The eye of reason was with rage yblent,
And would haue slaine them in his furious ire,
But hardly was restreined of that aged sire.
Returning to his bed in torment great, vi
And bitter anguish of his guiltie sight,
He could not rest, but did his stout heart eat,
And wast his inward gall with deepe despight,
Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring night.
At last faire Hesperus in highest skie
Had spent his lampe, and
[75] brought forth dawning light,
Then vp he rose, and clad him hastily;
The Dwarfe him brought his steed: so both away do fly.
Now when the rosy-fingred Morning faire, vii
Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed,
Had spred her purple robe through deawy aire,
And the high hils Titan discouered,
The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-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 houre;
Then gan she waile and
[76] weepe, to see that woefull stowre.
[Pg 21]
And after him she rode with so much speede viii
As her slow beast could make; but all in vaine:
For him so far had borne his light-foot steede,
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce disdaine,
That him to follow was but fruitlesse paine;
Yet she her weary limbes would neuer rest,
But euery hill and dale, each wood and plaine
Did search, sore grieued in her gentle brest,
He so vngently left her, whom she loued
[77] best.
But subtill Archimago when his guests ix
He saw diuided into double parts,
And Vna wandring in woods and forrests,
Th’end of his drift, he praisd his diuelish arts,
That had such might ouer true meaning harts;
Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth make,
How he may worke vnto her further smarts:
For her he hated as the hissing snake,
And in her many troubles did most pleasure take.
He then deuisde himselfe how to disguise; x
For by his mightie science he could take
As many formes and shapes in seeming wise,
As euer 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 oft for feare would quake,
And oft would flie away. O who can tell
The hidden power of herbes, and might of Magicke spell?
But now seemde best, the person to put on xi
Of that good knight, his late beguiled guest:
In mighty armes he was yclad anon
[78],
And siluer shield
[79]: vpon his coward brest
A bloudy crosse, and on his crauen crest
A bounch of haires
[80] discolourd diuersly:
Full iolly knight he seemde, and well addrest,
And when he sate vpon his courser free,
Saint George himself ye would haue deemed him to be.
[Pg 22]
But he the knight, whose semblaunt he did beare, xii
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 vpon the way
A faithlesse Sarazin all arm’d to point,
In whose great shield was writ with letters gay
Sans foy: full large of limbe and euery ioint
He was, and cared not for God or man a point.
He had a faire companion of his way, xiii
A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red,
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich assay,
And like a Persian mitre on her hed
She wore, with crownes and owches garnished,
The which her lauish louers to her gaue;
Her wanton palfrey all was ouerspred
With tinsell trappings, wouen like a waue,
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses braue.
With faire disport and courting dalliaunce xiv
She intertainde her louer all the way:
But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce,
She soone left off
[81] her mirth and wanton play,
And bad her knight addresse him to the fray:
His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride
And hope to winne his Ladies heart 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, xv
Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous
[82],
Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride:
Soone meete they both, both fell and furious,
That daunted with their forces hideous,
Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand,
And eke themselues too rudely rigorous,
Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand,
Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land.
[Pg 23]
As when two rams stird with ambitious pride, xvi
Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke,
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side
Do meete, that with the terrour
[83] of the shocke
Astonied both, stand sencelesse
[84] as a blocke,
Forgetfull of the hanging victory:
So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke,
Both staring fierce, and holding idely
[85]The broken reliques of their former cruelty.
The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe xvii
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff:
Each others equall puissaunce enuies,
And through their iron sides with cruell
[86] 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 streames of purple bloud new dies
[87] the verdant fields.
Curse on that Crosse (quoth
[88] then the
Sarazin)
xviiiThat keepes thy body from the bitter fit;
Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,
Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:
But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,
And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest
With rigour
[89] so outrageous he smitt,
That a large share it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest.
Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark xix
Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue,
And at his haughtie helmet making mark,
So hugely stroke
[90], that it the steele did riue,
And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue,
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis,
Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue
With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is,
Whither
[91] the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.
[Pg 24]
The Lady when she saw her champion fall, xx
Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,
But from him fled away with all her powre;
Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away
The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure.
Her soone he ouertooke, and bad to stay,
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay.
She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce, xxi
Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show
On silly Dame, subiect to hard mischaunce,
And to your mighty will. Her humblesse low
In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show,
Did much emmoue his stout heroïcke heart,
And said, Deare dame, your suddein ouerthrow
Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.
Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament; xxii
The wretched
[92] woman, whom vnhappy howre
Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
Before that angry heauens list to lowre,
And fortune false betraide me to your
[93] powre,
Was, (O what now auaileth that I was!
[94])
Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,
He that the wide West vnder his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.
He in the first flowre of my freshest age, xxiii
Betrothed me vnto the onely haire
Of a most mighty king, most rich and sage;
Was neuer Prince so faithfull and so faire,
Was neuer Prince so meeke and debonaire;
But ere my hoped day of spousall shone,
My dearest Lord fell from high honours staire,
Into the hands of his accursed fone,
And cruelly was slaine, that shall I euer mone.
[Pg 25]
His blessed body spoild of liuely breath, xxiv
Was afterward, I know not how, conuaid
And fro me hid: of whose most innocent death
When tidings came to me vnhappy 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 loue, long time did languish as the striken hind.
At last it chaunced this proud
Sarazin[95] xxvTo meete me wandring, who perforce me led
With him away, but yet could neuer win
The Fort, that Ladies hold in soueraigne dread.
There lies he now with foule dishonour dead,
Who whiles he liu’de, was called proud Sans foy,
The eldest of three brethren, all three bred
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans ioy,
And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold Sans loy.
In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate, xxvi
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Crauing of you in pitty of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
And said, Faire
[96] Lady hart of flint would rew
The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.
Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye rest, xxvii
Hauing both found 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 cheare the seeming simple maid
Let fall her eyen, as shamefast to the earth,
And yeelding soft, in that she nought gain-said,
So forth they rode, he feining seemely merth,
And she coy lookes: so dainty
[97] they say maketh derth.
[Pg 26]
Long time they thus together traueiled, xxviii
Till weary of their way, they came at last,
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire did spred
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse ouercast,
And their greene leaues trembling with euery blast,
Made a calme shadow far in compasse round:
The fearefull Shepheard often there aghast
Vnder them neuer sat, ne wont there sound
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th’vnlucky ground.
But this good knight soone as he them can spie, xxix
For the coole shade him
[98] thither hastly got:
For golden
Phœbus now ymounted
[99] hie,
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot,
That liuing creature mote it not abide;
And his new Lady it endured not.
There they alight, in hope themselues to hide
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary limbs a tide.
Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other makes, xxx
With goodly purposes there as they sit:
And in his falsed fancy he her takes
To be the fairest wight, that liued 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 rift there came
Small drops of gory bloud, that trickled downe the same.
Therewith a piteous yelling voyce was heard, xxxi
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
[100] wretched Lady, my deare loue,
O too deare loue, loue bought with death too deare.
Astond he stood, and vp his haire did houe,
And with that suddein horror could no member moue.
[Pg 27]
At last whenas the dreadfull passion xxxii
Was ouerpast, and manhood well awake,
Yet musing at the straunge occasion,
And doubting much his sence, he thus bespake;
What voyce of damned Ghost from Limbo lake,
Or guilefull spright wandring in empty aire,
Both which fraile men do oftentimes mistake,
Sends to my doubtfull eares these speaches rare,
Then groning deepe, Nor damned Ghost, (quoth he,) xxxiii
Nor guilefull sprite to thee these wordes 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:
For though a tree I seeme, yet cold and heat me paines.
Say on Fradubio then, or man, or tree, xxxiv
Quoth then the knight, by whose mischieuous 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 striueth to suppresse.
The author then (said he) of all my smarts,
Is one Duessa a false sorceresse,
That many errant knights hath brought to wretchednesse.
In prime of youthly yeares, when corage hot xxxv
The fire of loue and ioy of cheualree
First kindled in my brest, it was my lot
To loue this gentle Lady, whom ye see,
Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree;
With whom as once I rode accompanyde,
Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee,
That had a like faire Lady by his syde,
Like a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa hyde.
[Pg 28]
Whose forged beauty he did take in hand, xxxvi
All other Dames to haue exceeded farre;
I in defence of mine did likewise stand,
Mine, that did then shine as the Morning starre:
So both to battell
[104] fierce arraunged arre,
In which his harder fortune was to fall
Vnder 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 lou’d of Ladies vnlike faire, xxxvii
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.
Frælissa was as faire, as faire mote bee,
And euer false Duessa seemde as faire as shee.
The wicked witch now seeing all this while xxxviii
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 ouercast the day,
And a dull blast, that breathing on her face,
Dimmed her former beauties shining ray,
And with foule vgly forme did her disgrace:
Then was she faire alone, when none was faire in place.
Then cride she out, Fye
[105], fye, deformed wight,
xxxixWhose borrowed beautie now appeareth plaine
To haue before bewitched all mens sight;
O leaue 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 haue kild her; but with faigned paine,
The false witch did my wrathfull hand with-hold;
So left her, where she now is turnd to treen mould.
[Pg 29]
Thens forth
[106] I tooke
Duessa for my Dame,
xlAnd in the witch vnweeting ioyd long time,
Ne euer wist, but that she was the same,
Till on a day (that day is euery 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 euer to haue toucht her, I did deadly rew.
Her neather partes misshapen, monstruous, xli
Were hidd in water, that I could not see,
But they did seeme more foule and hideous,
Then womans shape man would beleeue to bee.
Thens forth
[107] from her most beastly companie
I gan refraine, in minde to slip away,
Soone as appeard safe opportunitie
[108]:
For danger great, if not assur’d decay
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne to stray.
The diuelish hag by chaunges of my cheare xlii
Perceiu’d my thought, and drownd in sleepie night,
With wicked herbes and ointments did besmeare
My bodie all, through charmes and magicke might,
That all my senses were bereaued quight:
Then brought she me into this desert waste,
And by my wretched louers side me pight,
Where now enclosd in wooden wals full faste,
Banisht from liuing wights, our wearie dayes we waste.
But how long time, said then the Elfin knight, xliii
Are you in this misformed house to dwell?
We may not chaunge (quoth he) this euil plight,
Till we be bathed in a liuing well;
That is the terme prescribed by the spell.
O how, said he, mote I that well out find,
That may restore you to your wonted well?
Time and suffised fates to former kynd
Shall vs restore, none else from hence may vs vnbynd.
[Pg 30]
The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, xliv
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 liuing tree had spent,
The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground,
That from the bloud he might be innocent,
And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound:
Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.
Her seeming dead he found with feigned feare, xlv
As all vnweeting of that well she knew,
And paynd himselfe with busie care to reare
Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eylids blew
And dimmed sight with pale and deadly hew
At last she vp gan lift: with trembling cheare
Her vp 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.
Forsaken Truth long seekes her loue,
And makes the Lyon mylde,
Marres blind Deuotions mart, and fals
In hand of leachour vylde.
Nought is there vnder heau’ns wide hollownesse, i
That moues more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t’vnworthy wretchednesse
Through enuies snares or fortunes freakes vnkind:
I, whether lately through her brightnesse
[109] blind,
Or through alleageance and fast fealtie,
Which I do owe vnto all woman kind,
Feele my heart perst with so great agonie,
When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.
And now it is empassioned so deepe, ii
For fairest Vnaes sake, of whom I sing,
That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe,
To thinke how she through guilefull handeling,
Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as euer liuing wight was faire,
Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,
Is from her knight diuorced in despaire
And her due loues deriu’d to that vile witches share.
Yet she most faithfull Ladie all this while iii
Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd
Farre from all peoples prease, as in exile,
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,
To seeke her knight; who subtilly betrayd
Through that late vision, which th’Enchaunter wrought,
[110]Had her abandond. She of nought affrayd,
Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought;
Yet wished tydings none of him vnto her brought.
[Pg 32]
One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, iv
From her vnhastie beast she did alight,
And on the grasse her daintie limbes did lay
In secret shadow, farre from all mens sight:
From her faire head her fillet she vndight,
And laid her stole aside. Her angels face
As the great eye of heauen shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shadie place;
Did neuer mortall eye behold such heauenly grace.
It fortuned out of the thickest wood v
A ramping Lyon rushed suddainly,
Hunting full greedie after saluage blood;
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To haue attonce deuour’d her tender corse:
But to the pray when as he drew more ny,
His bloudie rage asswaged with remorse,
And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.
In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet, vi
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 auenging wrong?
Whose yeelded pride and proud submission,
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 euerie beast in field,
[111] viiQuoth she, his princely puissance doth abate,
And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,
Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate:
But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord,
[112]How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her that him lou’d, and euer most adord,
As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?
[Pg 33]
Redounding teares did choke th’end of her plaint, viii
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;
And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint
The kingly beast vpon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At last in close hart shutting vp her paine,
Arose the virgin borne of heauenly brood,
And to her snowy Palfrey got againe,
To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.
The Lyon would not leaue her desolate, ix
But with her went along, as a strong gard
Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:
Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when she wakt, he waited diligent,
With humble seruice to her will prepard:
From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement,
And euer by her lookes conceiued her intent.
Long she thus traueiled through deserts wyde, x
By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas,
Yet neuer shew of liuing wight espyde;
Till that at length she found the troden gras,
In which the tract of peoples footing was,
Vnder the steepe foot of a mountaine hore;
The same she followes, till at last she has
A damzell spyde slow footing her before,
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.
To whom
[113] approching she to her gan call,
xiTo weet, if dwelling place were nigh at hand;
But the rude wench her answer’d nought at all,
She could not heare, nor speake, nor vnderstand;
Till seeing by her side the Lyon stand,
With suddaine feare her pitcher downe she threw,
And fled away: for neuer in that land
Face of faire Ladie she before did vew,
And that dread
[114] Lyons looke her cast in deadly hew.
[Pg 34]
Full fast she fled, ne euer lookt behynd, xii
As if her life vpon the wager lay,
And home she came, whereas her mother blynd
Sate in eternall night: nought could she say,
But suddaine catching hold, did her dismay
With quaking hands, and other signes of feare:
Who full of ghastly fright and cold affray,
Gan shut the dore. By this arriued there
Dame Vna, wearie Dame, and entrance did requere.
Which when none yeelded, her vnruly Page xiii
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent,
And let her in; where of his cruell rage
Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonishment,
She found them both in darkesome corner pent;
Where that old woman day and night did pray
Vpon her beades deuoutly penitent;
Nine hundred Pater nosters euery day,
And thrise nine hundred Aues she was wont to say.
And to augment her painefull pennance
[115] more,
xivThrise euery weeke in ashes she did sit,
And next her wrinkled skin rough sackcloth wore,
And thrise three times did fast from any bit:
But now for feare her beads she did forget.
Whose needlesse dread for to remoue away,
Faire Vna framed words and count’nance fit:
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 commeth drowsie night, xv
When euery creature shrowded is in sleepe;
Sad Vna downe her laies in wearie plight,
And at her feet the Lyon watch doth keepe:
In stead of rest, she does lament, and weepe
For the late losse of her deare loued knight,
And sighes, and grones, and euermore does steepe
Her tender brest in bitter teares all night,
All night she thinks too long, and often lookes for light.
[Pg 35]
Now when Aldeboran was mounted hie xvi
Aboue the shynie Cassiopeias chaire,
And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lie,
One knocked at the dore, and in would fare;
He knocked fast, and often curst, and sware,
That readie entrance was not at his call:
For on his backe a heauy load he bare
Of nightly stelths and pillage seuerall,
Which he had got abroad by purchase
[116] criminall.
He was to weete a stout and sturdie thiefe, xvii
Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments,
And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe,
Which giuen was to them for good intents;
The holy Saints of their rich vestiments
He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept,
And spoild the Priests of their habiliments,
Whiles none the holy things in safety kept;
Then he by cunning
[117] sleights in at the window crept.
And all that he by right or wrong could find, xviii
Vnto this house he brought, and did bestow
Vpon the daughter of this woman blind,
Abessa daughter of Corceca slow,
With whom he whoredome vsd, that few did know,
And fed her fat with feast of offerings,
And plentie, which in all the land did grow;
Ne spared he to giue her gold and rings:
And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet, xix
Yet of those fearefull women none durst rize,
The Lyon frayed them, him in to let:
He would no longer stay him to aduize,
But open breakes the dore in furious wize,
And entring is; when that disdainfull beast
Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize,
And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest,
Vnder his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.
[Pg 36]
Him booteth not resist, nor succour call, xx
His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand,
Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small,
And quite dismembred hath: the thirstie land
Drunke
[118] vp his life; his corse left on the strand.
His fearefull friends
[119] weare out the wofull night,
Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to vnderstand
The heauie hap, which on them is alight,
Affraid, least to themselues the like mishappen might.
Now when broad day the world discouered has, xxi
Vp Vna rose, vp rose the Lyon eke,
And on their former iourney forward pas,
In wayes vnknowne, her wandring knight to seeke,
With paines farre passing that long wandring Greeke,
That for his loue refused deitie;
Such were the labours of this Lady meeke,
Still seeking him, that from her still did flie,
Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.
Soone as she parted thence, the fearefull twaine, xxii
That blind old woman and her daughter deare
Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slaine,
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 ranne like two amazed deare,
Halfe mad through malice, and reuenging will,
To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.
Whom ouertaking, they gan loudly bray, xxiii
With hollow howling, 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 mischiefs, and long misery
Might fall on her, and follow all the way,
And that in endlesse error she might euer stray.
[Pg 37]
But when she saw her prayers nought preuaile, xxiv
She backe returned with some labour lost;
And in the way as she did weepe and waile,
A knight her met in mighty armes embost,
Yet knight was not for all his bragging bost,
But subtill Archimag, that Vna sought
By traynes into new troubles to haue tost:
Of that old woman tydings he besought,
If that of such a Ladie she could tellen ought.
Therewith she gan her passion to renew, xxv
And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend her heare,
Saying, that harlot she too lately knew,
That causd her shed so many a bitter teare,
And so forth told the story of her feare:
Much seemed he to mone her haplesse chaunce,
And after for that Ladie did inquere
[120];
Which being taught, he forward gan aduaunce
His fair enchaunted steed, and eke his charmed launce.
Ere long he came, where Vna traueild slow, xxvi
And that wilde Champion wayting her besyde:
Whom seeing such, for dread he durst not show
Himselfe too nigh at hand, but turned wyde
Vnto an hill; from whence when she him spyde,
By his like seeming shield, her knight by name
She weend it was, and towards him gan ryde:
Approching nigh, she wist it was the same,
And with faire fearefull humblesse towards him shee came.
And weeping said, Ah my long lacked Lord, xxvii
Where haue ye bene thus long out of my sight?
Much feared I to haue bene quite abhord,
Or ought haue done, that ye displeasen might,
That should as death vnto my deare hart light:
For since mine eye your ioyous 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.
[Pg 38]
He thereto meeting said, My dearest Dame, xxviii
Farre be it from your thought, and fro my will,
To thinke that knighthood I so much should shame,
As you to leaue, that haue me loued still,
And chose in Faery court of meere goodwill,
Where noblest knights were to be found on earth:
The earth shall sooner leaue her kindly skill
To bring forth fruit, and make eternall derth,
Then I leaue you, my liefe, yborne of heauenly berth.
And sooth to say, why I left you so long, xxix
Was for to seeke aduenture in strange
[121] place,
Where Archimago said a felon strong
To many knights did daily worke disgrace;
But knight he now shall neuer more deface:
Good cause of mine excuse; that mote ye please
Well to accept, and euermore embrace
My faithfull seruice, that by land and seas
Haue vowd you to defend, now then your plaint appease.
His louely words her seemd due recompence xxx
Of all her passed paines: one louing howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre:
She has forgot, how many a wofull stowre
For him she late endur’d; she speakes no more
Of past: true is, that true loue hath no powre
To looken backe; his eyes be fixt before.
Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore.
Much like, as when the beaten marinere, xxxi
That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide,
Oft soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare,
And long time hauing tand his tawney hide
With blustring breath of heauen, that none can bide,
And scorching flames of fierce Orions hound,
Soone as the port from farre he has espide,
His chearefull whistle merrily doth sound,
And Nereus crownes with cups; his mates him pledg around.
[Pg 39]
Such ioy made Vna, when her knight she found; xxxii
And eke th’enchaunter ioyous seemd no lesse,
Then the glad marchant, that does vew from ground
His ship farre come from watrie wildernesse,
He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft doth blesse:
So forth they past, and all the way they spent
Discoursing of her dreadfull late distresse,
In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment:
†Who told
[122] her all that fell
[123] in iourney as she went.
They had not ridden farre, when they might see xxxiii
One pricking towards them with hastie heat,
Full strongly armd, and on a courser free,
That through his fiercenesse fomed all with sweat,
And the sharpe yron did for anger eat,
When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed side;
His looke was sterne, and seemed still to threat
Cruell reuenge, which he in hart did hyde,
And on his shield Sans loy in bloudie lines was dyde.
When nigh he drew vnto this gentle payre xxxiv
And saw the Red-crosse, which the knight did beare,
He burnt in fire, and gan eftsoones prepare
Himselfe to battell with his couched speare.
Loth was that other, and did faint through feare,
[124]To taste th’vntryed dint of deadly steele;
But yet his Lady did so well him cheare,
That hope of new good hap he gan to feele;
So bent his speare, and spurnd
[125] his horse with yron heele.
But that proud Paynim forward came so fierce
[126],
xxxvAnd full of wrath, that with his sharp-head speare
Through vainely crossed shield he quite did pierce
[127],
And had his staggering steede not shrunke
[128] for feare,
Through shield and bodie eke he should him beare:
Yet so great was the puissance of his push,
That from his saddle quite he did him beare:
He tombling rudely downe to ground did rush,
And from his gored wound a well of bloud did gush.
[Pg 40]
Dismounting lightly from his loftie steed, xxxvi
He to him lept, in mind to reaue his life,
And proudly said, Lo there the worthie meed
Of him, that slew Sansfoy with bloudie knife;
Henceforth his ghost freed from repining strife,
In peace may passen ouer Lethe lake,
When morning
[129] altars purgd with enemies life,
The blacke infernall Furies doen aslake:
Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy shall from thee take.
Therewith in haste his helmet gan vnlace, xxxvii
Till Vna cride, O hold that heauie hand,
Deare Sir, what euer that thou be in place:
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht stand
Now at thy mercy: Mercie not withstand:
For he is one the truest knight aliue,
Though conquered now he lie on lowly land,
And whilest him fortune fauourd, faire did thriue
In bloudie field: therefore of life him not depriue.
Her piteous words might not abate his rage, xxxviii
But rudely rending vp his helmet, would
Haue slaine him straight
[130]: but when he sees his age,
And hoarie head of Archimago old,
His hastie hand he doth amazed hold,
And halfe ashamed, wondred at the sight:
For the
[131] old man well knew he, though vntold,
In charmes and magicke to haue wondrous might,
Ne euer wont in field, ne in round lists to fight.
And said, Why Archimago, lucklesse syre, xxxix
What doe I see? what hard mishap is this,
That hath thee hither 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
The cloud of death did sit. Which doen away,
He left him lying so, ne would no lenger stay.
[Pg 41]
But to the virgin comes, who all this while xl
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.
But her fierce seruant full of kingly awe xli
And high disdaine, whenas his soueraine Dame
So rudely handled by her foe he sawe,
With gaping iawes full greedy at him came,
And ramping on his shield, did weene the same
Haue reft away with his sharpe rending clawes:
But he was stout, and lust did now inflame
His corage more, that from his griping pawes
He hath his shield redeem’d, and foorth
[132] his swerd he drawes.
O then too weake and feeble was the forse xlii
Of saluage beast, his puissance to withstand:
For he was strong, and of so mightie corse,
As euer wielded speare in warlike hand,
And feates of armes did wisely vnderstand.
Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest
With thrilling point of deadly yron brand,
And launcht his Lordly hart: with death opprest
He roar’d aloud, whiles life forsooke his stubborne brest.
Who now is left to keepe the forlorne maid xliii
From raging spoile of lawlesse victors will?
Her faithfull gard remou’d, her hope dismaid,
Her selfe a yeelded pray to saue or spill.
He now Lord of the field
[133], his pride to fill,
With foule reproches, and disdainfull spight
Her vildly entertaines, and will or nill,
Beares her away vpon his courser light:
Her prayers nought preuaile, his rage is more of might.
[Pg 42]
And all the way, with great lamenting paine, xliv
And piteous plaints she filleth his dull eares,
That stony hart could riuen haue in twaine,
And all the way she wets with flowing teares:
But he enrag’d with rancor, nothing heares.
Her seruile beast yet would not leaue her so,
But followes her farre off, ne ought he feares,
To be partaker of her wandring woe,
More mild in beastly kind, then that her beastly foe.
To sinfull house of Pride, Duessa
guides the faithfull knight,
Where brothers death to wreak Sansioy
doth chalenge him to fight.
Young knight, what euer that dost armes professe, i
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse,
In choice, and change of thy deare loued Dame,
Least thou of her beleeue too lightly blame,
And rash misweening doe thy hart remoue:
For vnto knight there is no greater shame,
Then lightnesse and inconstancie in loue;
That doth this Redcrosse knights ensample plainly proue.
Who after that he had faire Vna lorne, ii
Through light misdeeming of her loialtie,
And false Duessa in her sted had borne,
Called Fidess’, and so supposd to bee;
Long with her traueild, till at last they see
A goodly building, brauely garnished,
The house of mightie Prince it seemd to bee:
And towards it a broad high way that led,
All bare through peoples feet, which thither traueiled.
[Pg 43]
Great troupes of people traueild thitherward iii
Both day and night, of each degree and place,
But few returned, hauing scaped hard,
With balefull beggerie, or foule disgrace,
Which euer after in most wretched case
[134],
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay.
Thither Duessa bad him bend his pace:
For she is wearie of the toilesome way,
And also nigh consumed is the lingring day.
A stately Pallace built of squared bricke, iv
Which cunningly was without morter laid,
Whose wals were high, but nothing strong, nor thick,
And golden foile all ouer them displaid,
That purest skye with brightnesse they dismaid:
High lifted vp were many loftie towres,
And goodly galleries farre ouer laid,
Full of faire windowes, and delightfull bowres;
And on the top a Diall told the timely howres.
It was a goodly heape for to behould, v
And spake the praises of the workmans wit;
But full great pittie, that so faire a mould
Did on so weake foundation euer sit:
For on a sandie hill, that still did flit,
And fall away, it mounted was full hie,
That euery breath of heauen shaked it:
And all the hinder parts, that few could spie,
Were ruinous and old, but painted cunningly.
Arriued there they passed in forth right; vi
For still to all the gates stood open wide,
Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight
Cald Maluenù, who entrance none denide:
Thence to the hall, which was on euery side
With rich array and costly arras dight:
Infinite sorts of people did abide
There waiting long, to win the wished sight
Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace bright.
[Pg 44]
By them they passe, all gazing on them round, vii
And to the Presence mount; whose glorious vew
Their frayle amazed senses did confound:
In liuing Princes court none euer knew
Such endlesse richesse, and so sumptuous
[135] shew;
Ne Persia selfe, the nourse of pompous pride
Like euer saw. And there a noble crew
Of Lordes and Ladies stood on euery side,
Which with their presence faire, the place much beautifide.
High aboue all a cloth of State was spred, viii
And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day,
On which there sate most braue embellished
With royall robes and gorgeous array,
A mayden Queene, that shone as Titans ray,
In glistring gold, and peerelesse pretious stone:
Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay
To dim the brightnesse of her glorious throne,
As enuying her selfe, that too exceeding shone.
Exceeding shone, like Phœbus fairest childe, ix
That did presume his fathers firie wayne,
And flaming mouthes of steedes vnwonted wilde
Through highest heauen with weaker hand to rayne;
Proud of such glory and aduancement vaine,
While flashing beames do daze his feeble eyen,
He leaues the welkin way most beaten plaine,
And rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames the skyen,
With fire not made to burne, but fairely for to shyne.
So proud she shyned in her Princely state, x
Looking to heauen; for earth she did disdayne,
And sitting high; for lowly she did hate:
Lo vnderneath her scornefull 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-lou’d semblance tooke delight;
For she was wondrous faire, as any liuing wight.
[Pg 45]
Of griesly Pluto she the daughter was, xi
And sad Proserpina the Queene of hell;
Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth
[136] to pas
That parentage, with pride so did she swell,
And thundring Ioue, that high in heauen doth dwell,
And wield the world, she claymed for her syre,
Or if that any else did Ioue excell:
For to the highest she did still aspyre,
Or if ought higher were then that, did it desyre.
And proud Lucifera men did her call, xii
That made her selfe a
[137] Queene, and crownd to be,
Yet rightfull kingdome she had none at all,
Ne heritage of natiue soueraintie,
But did vsurpe with wrong and tyrannie
Vpon the scepter, which she now did hold:
Ne ruld her Realmes
[138] with lawes, but pollicie,
And strong aduizement of six wisards old,
That with their counsels bad her kingdome did vphold.
Soone as the Elfin
[139] knight in presence came,
xiiiAnd false Duessa seeming Lady faire,
A gentle Husher, Vanitie by name
Made rowme, and passage for them did prepaire:
So goodly brought them to the lowest staire
Of her high throne, where they on humble knee
Making obeyssance
[140], did the cause declare,
Why they were come, her royall state to see,
To proue the wide report of her great Maiestee.
With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so low, xiv
She thanked them in her disdainefull wise,
Ne other grace vouchsafed them to show
Of Princesse worthy, scarse them bad arise.
Her Lordes and Ladies all this while deuise
Themselues to setten forth to straungers sight:
Some frounce their curled haire in courtly guise,
Some prancke their ruffes, and others trimly dight
Their gay attire: each others greater pride does spight.
[Pg 46]
Goodly they all that knight do entertaine, xv
Right glad with him to haue increast their crew:
But to Duess’ each one himselfe did paine
All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew;
For in that court whylome her well they knew:
Yet the stout Faerie monist the middest crowd
Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly vew,
And that great Princesse too exceeding prowd,
That to strange knight no better countenance allowd.
Suddein vpriseth from her stately place xvi
The royall Dame, and for her coche doth call:
All hurtlen
[141] 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 brightnesse brode doth blaze;
The heapes of people thronging in the hall,
Do ride each other, vpon her to gaze:
Her glorious glitterand
[142] light doth all mens eyes amaze.
So forth she comes, and to her coche does clyme, xvii
Adorned all with gold, and girlonds gay,
That seemd as fresh as Flora in her prime,
And stroue to match, in royall rich array,
Great Iunoes golden chaire, the which they say
The Gods stand gazing on, when she does ride
To Ioues high house through heauens bras-paued way
Drawne of faire Pecocks, that excell in pride,
And full of Argus eyes their tailes dispredden wide.
But this was drawne of six vnequall beasts, xviii
On which her six sage Counsellours did ryde,
Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts,
With like conditions to their kinds applyde:
Of which the first, that all the rest did guyde,
Was sluggish Idlenesse the nourse of sin;
Vpon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde,
Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin,
Like to an holy Monck, the seruice to begin.
[Pg 47]
And in his hand his Portesse still he bare, xix
That much was worne, but therein little red,
For of deuotion he had little care,
Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dayes ded;
Scarse could he once vphold his heauie hed,
To looken, whether it were night or day:
May seeme the wayne was very euill led,
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, xx
And greatly shunned manly exercise,
From
[143] euery worke he chalenged essoyne,
For contemplation sake: yet otherwise,
His life he led in lawlesse riotise;
By which he grew to grieuous malady;
For in his lustlesse limbs through euill guise
A shaking feuer raignd continually:
Such one was Idlenesse, first of this company.
And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, xxi
Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne,
His belly was vp-blowne with luxury,
And eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne,
And like a Crane his necke was long and fyne,
With which he swallowd vp excessiue feast,
For want whereof poore people oft did pyne;
And all the way, most like a brutish beast,
He spued vp his gorge, that all did him deteast.
In greene vine leaues he was right fitly clad; xxii
For other clothes he could not weare for heat,
And on his head an yuie girland had,
From vnder which fast trickled downe the sweat:
Still as he rode, he somewhat 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
[144] he scarse vpholden can,
In shape and life more like a monster, then a man.
[Pg 48]
Vnfit he was for any worldly
[145] thing,
xxiiiAnd eke vnhable
[146] 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 friend he seldome
[147] 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.
And next to him rode lustfull Lechery, xxiv
Vpon a bearded Goat, whose rugged haire,
And whally eyes (the signe of gelosy,)
Was like the person selfe, whom he did beare:
Who rough, and blacke, and filthy did appeare,
Vnseemely man to please faire Ladies eye;
Yet he of Ladies oft was loued deare,
When fairer faces were bid standen by:
O who does know the bent of womens fantasy?
Ina greene gowne he clothed was full faire, xxv
Which vnderneath 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 with ficklenesse,
And learned had to loue with secret lookes,
And well could daunce, and sing with ruefulnesse,
And fortunes tell, and read in louing bookes,
And thousand other wayes, to bait his fleshly hookes.
Inconstant man, that loued all he saw, xxvi
And lusted after all, that he did loue,
Ne would his looser life be tide to law,
But ioyd weake wemens hearts to tempt
[148] and proue
If from their loyall loues he might then moue;
Which lewdnesse fild him with reprochfull paine
Of that fowle euill, which all men reproue,
That rots the marrow, and consumes the braine:
Such one was Lecherie, the third of all this traine.
[Pg 49]
And greedy Auarice by him did ride, xxvii
Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold;
Two iron coffers
[149] hong on either side,
With precious mettall full, as they might hold,
And in his lap an heape of coine he told;
For of his wicked pelfe
[150] his God he made,
And vnto hell him selfe for money sold;
Accursed vsurie was all his trade,
And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide.
His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplast, xxviii
And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware,
Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast,
But both from backe and belly still did spare,
To fill his bags, and richesse to compare;
Yet chylde ne kinsman liuing had he none
To leaue them to; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne,
He led a wretched life vnto him selfe vnknowne.
Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffise, xxix
Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store,
Whose need had end, but no end couetise,
Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him pore,
Who had enough, yet wished euer more
[151];
A vile disease, and eke in foote and hand
A grieuous gout tormented him full sore,
That well he could not touch, nor go, nor stand:
Such one was
Auarice, the fourth
[152] of this faire band.
And next to him malicious Enuie rode, xxx
Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and still did chaw
Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode,
That all the poison ran about his chaw
[153];
But inwardly he chawed his owne maw
At neighbours
[154] wealth, that made him euer 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.
[Pg 50]
All in a kirtle of discolourd say xxxi
He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes;
And in his bosome secretly there lay
An hatefull Snake, the which his taile vptyes
In many folds, and mortall sting implyes.
Still as he rode, he gnasht his teeth, to see
Those heapes of gold with griple Couetyse,
And grudged at the great felicitie
Of proud Lucifera, and his owne companie.
He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds, xxxii
And him no lesse, that any like did vse,
And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds,
His almes for want of faith he doth accuse;
So euery good to bad he doth abuse:
And eke the verse of famous Poets witt
He does backebite, and spightfull poison spues
From leprous mouth on all, that euer writt:
Such one vile
Enuie was, that fifte
[155] in row did sitt.
And him beside rides fierce reuenging Wrath, xxxiii
Vpon a Lion, loth for to be led;
And in his hand a burning brond he hath,
The which he brandisheth about his hed;
His eyes did hurle forth sparkles 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 staind with blood, xxxiv
Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,
Through vnaduized rashnesse woxen wood;
For of his hands he had no gouernement,
Ne car’d for bloud in his auengement:
But when the furious fit was ouerpast,
His cruell facts he often would repent;
Yet wilfull man he neuer would forecast,
How many mischieues should ensue his heedlesse hast.
[Pg 51]
Full many mischiefes follow cruell Wrath; xxxv
Abhorred bloudshed, and tumultuous strife,
Vnmanly murder, and vnthrifty scath,
Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife,
And fretting griefe the enemy of life;
All these, and many euils 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 vngodly tire.
And after all, vpon the wagon beame xxxvi
Rode
Sathan[156], with a smarting whip in hand,
With which he forward lasht the laesie teme,
So oft as Slowth still in the mire did stand.
Huge routs of people did about them band,
Showting for ioy, and still before their way
A foggy mist had couered all the land;
And vnderneath their feet, all scattered lay
Dead sculs and bones of men, whose life had gone astray.
So forth they marchen in this goodly sort, xxxvii
To take the solace of the open aire,
And in fresh flowring fields themselues to sport;
Emongst the rest rode that false Lady faire,
The fowle Duessa, next vnto the chaire
Of proud
Lucifera[157], as one of the traine:
But that good knight would not so nigh repaire,
Him selfe estraunging from their ioyaunce vaine,
Whose fellowship seemd far vnfit for warlike swaine.
So hauing solaced themselues a space xxxviii
With pleasaunce of the breathing fields yfed,
They backe returned to the Princely Place;
Whereas an errant knight in armes ycled,
And heathnish shield, wherein with letters red
Was writ Sans ioy, they new arriued find:
Enflam’d with fury and fiers hardy-hed,
He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts vnkind,
And nourish bloudy vengeaunce in his bitter mind.
[Pg 52]
Who when the shamed shield of slaine Sans foy xxxix
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 leapt, and that same enuious gage
Of victors glory from him snatcht away:
But th’Elfin knight, which ought that warlike wage,
Disdaind to loose
[158] the meed he wonne in fray,
And him rencountring
[159] fierce, reskewd the noble pray.
Therewith they gan to hurtlen
[160] greedily,
xlRedoubted battaile ready to darrayne,
And clash their shields, and shake their swords
[161] on hy,
That with their sturre they troubled all the traine;
Till that great Queene vpon eternall paine
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.
Ah dearest Dame, (quoth then the Paynim bold,) xli
Pardon the errour
[162] of enraged wight,
Whom great griefe made forget the raines to hold
Of reasons rule, to see this recreant
[163] knight,
No knight, but treachour full of false despight
And shamefull treason, who through guile hath slayn
The prowest knight, that euer field did fight,
Euen stout Sans foy (O who can then refrayn?)
Whose shield he beares renuerst
[164], the more to heape disdayn.
And to augment the glorie of his guile, xlii
His dearest loue the faire Fidessa loe
Is there possessed of the traytour vile,
Who reapes the haruest sowen by his foe,
Sowen in bloudy field, and bought with woe:
That brothers hand shall dearely well requight
So be, O Queene, you equall fauour showe.
Him litle answerd th’angry Elfin knight;
He neuer meant with words, but swords to plead his right.
[Pg 53]
But threw his gauntlet as a sacred pledge
[165],
xliiiHis cause in combat the next day to try:
So been they parted both, with harts on edge
[166],
To be aueng’d each on his enimy.
That night they pas in ioy and iollity,
Feasting and courting both in bowre and hall;
For Steward was excessiue Gluttonie,
That of his plenty poured forth to all;
Which doen, the Chamberlain Slowth did to rest them call.
Now whenas darkesome night had all displayd xliv
Her coleblacke curtein ouer 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,
Vp-rose Duessa from her resting place,
And to the Paynims lodging comes with silent pace.
Whom broad awake she finds, in troublous fit, xlv
Forecasting, how his foe he might annoy,
And him amoues with speaches seeming fit:
Ah deare
Sans ioy[167], next dearest to
Sans foy,
Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new ioy
[168],
Ioyous, to see his ymage in mine eye,
And greeu’d, to thinke how foe did him destroy,
That was the flowre of grace and cheualrye;
Lo his Fidessa to thy secret faith I flye.
With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet, xlvi
And bad say on the secret
[169] 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 louely dart
Of deare Sansfoy, I neuer ioyed howre,
But in eternall woes my weaker hart
Haue wasted, louing him with all my powre,
And for his sake haue felt full many an heauie stowre.
[Pg 54]
At last when perils all I weened past, xlvii
And hop’d to reape the crop of all my care,
Into new woes vnweeting I was cast,
By this false faytor, who vnworthy ware
His worthy shield, whom he with guilefull snare
Entrapped slew, and brought to shamefull graue.
Me silly maid away with him he bare,
And euer since hath kept in darksome caue,
For that I would not yeeld, that to Sans-foy I gaue.
But since faire Sunne hath sperst that lowring clowd, xlviii
And to my loathed life now shewes some light,
Vnder your beames I will me safely shrowd,
From dreaded storme of his disdainfull spight:
To you th’inheritance belongs by right
Of brothers prayse, to you eke longs his loue.
Let not his loue, let not his restlesse spright
Be vnreueng’d, that calles to you aboue
From wandring Stygian shores, where it doth endlesse moue.
Thereto said he, Faire
[170] Dame be nought dismaid
xlixFor sorrowes past; their griefe is with them gone:
Ne yet of present perill be affraid;
For needlesse feare did neuer vantage none,
And helplesse hap it booteth not to mone.
Dead is Sans-foy, his vitall paines are past,
Though greeued ghost for vengeance deepe do grone:
He liues, that shall him pay his dewties last,
And guiltie Elfin bloud shall sacrifice in hast.
O but I feare the fickle freakes (quoth shee) l
Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in field.
Why dame (quoth he) what oddes can euer bee,
Where both do fight alike, to win or yield?
Yea but (quoth she) he beares a charmed shield,
And eke enchaunted armes, that none can perce,
Ne none can wound the man, that does them wield.
Charmd or enchaunted (answerd he then ferce)
I no whit reck, ne you the like need to reherce.
[Pg 55]
But faire Fidessa, sithens fortunes guile, li
Or enimies powre hath now captiued you,
Returne from whence ye came, and rest a while
Till morrow next, that I the Elfe subdew,
And with Sans-foyes dead dowry you endew.
Ay me, that is a double death (she said)
With proud foes sight my sorrow to renew:
Where euer yet I be, my secrete aid
Shall follow you. So passing forth she him obaid.
The faithfull knight in equall field
subdewes his faithlesse foe,
Whom false Duessa saues, and for
his cure to hell does goe.
The noble hart, that harbours vertuous thought, i
And is with child of glorious great intent,
Can neuer rest, vntill it forth haue brought
Th’eternall brood of glorie excellent:
Such restlesse passion did all night torment
The flaming corage of that Faery knight,
Deuizing, how that doughtie turnament
With greatest honour he atchieuen might;
Still did he
[171] wake, and still did watch for dawning light.
At last the golden Orientall gate
[172] iiOf greatest heauen gan to open faire,
And Phœbus fresh, as bridegrome to his mate,
Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:
And hurld
[173] his glistring beames through gloomy aire.
Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiu’d, streight way
He started vp, and did him selfe prepaire,
In sun-bright armes, and battailous array:
For with that Pagan proud he combat will that day.
[Pg 56]
And forth he comes into the commune
[174] hall,
iiiWhere earely waite him many a gazing eye,
To weet what end to straunger knights may fall.
There many Minstrales maken melody,
To driue away the dull melancholy,
And many Bardes, that to the trembling chord
Can tune their timely voyces cunningly,
And many Chroniclers, that can record
Old loues, and warres for Ladies doen by many a Lord.
Soone after comes the cruell Sarazin, iv
In wouen maile all armed warily,
And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin
Does care for looke of liuing creatures eye.
They bring them wines of Greece and Araby,
And daintie spices fetcht from furthest Ynd,
To kindle heat of corage priuily:
And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd
T’obserue the sacred lawes of armes, that are assynd.
At last forth comes that far renowmed Queene, v
With royall pomp and Princely maiestie;
She is ybrought vnto a paled greene,
And placed vnder 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
Sans-foy his shield is hangd with bloudy hew:
Both those the lawrell girlonds to the victor dew.
A shrilling trompet sownded from on hye, vi
And vnto battaill bad them selues addresse:
Their shining shieldes about their wrestes
[175] they tye,
And burning blades about their heads do blesse,
The instruments of wrath and heauinesse:
With greedy force each other doth assayle,
And strike so fiercely, that they do impresse
Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred mayle;
The yron walles to ward their blowes are weake and fraile.
[Pg 57]
The Sarazin was stout, and wondrous strong, vii
And heaped blowes like yron hammers great:
For after bloud and vengeance he did long.
The knight was fiers, and full of youthly heat:
And doubled strokes, like dreaded thunders threat:
For all for prayse and honour he did fight.
Both stricken strike, and beaten both do beat,
That from their shields forth flyeth firie light,
And helmets hewen
[176] deepe, shew marks of eithers might.
So th’one for wrong, the other striues for right: viii
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 rauine rend away:
With hideous horrour both together smight,
And souce so sore, that they the heauens affray:
The wise Southsayer seeing so sad sight,
Th’amazed vulgar tels of warres and mortall fight.
So th’one for wrong, the other striues for right, ix
And each to deadly shame would driue his foe:
The cruell steele so greedily doth bight
In tender flesh, that streames of bloud down flow,
With which the armes, that earst so bright did show
[177],
Into a pure vermillion 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.
At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his eye, x
His suddein eye, flaming with wrathfull fyre,
Vpon his brothers shield, which hong thereby:
Therewith redoubled was his raging yre,
And said, Ah wretched sonne of wofull syre,
Doest
[178] thou sit wayling by black
Stygian lake,
Whilest here thy shield is hangd for victors hyre,
And sluggish german doest thy forces slake,
To after-send his foe, that him may ouertake?
[Pg 58]
Goe caytiue Elfe, him quickly ouertake, xi
And soone redeeme from his long wandring woe;
Goe guiltie ghost, to him my message make,
That I his shield haue quit from dying foe.
Therewith vpon his crest he stroke him so,
That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall;
End of the doubtfull battell
[179] deemed tho
The lookers on, and lowd to him gan call
The false Duessa, Thine the shield, and I, and all.
Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie speake, xii
Out of his swowning dreame he gan awake,
And quickning faith, that earst was woxen weake,
The creeping deadly cold away did shake:
Tho mou’d with wrath, and shame, and Ladies sake,
Of all attonce he cast auengd to bee,
And with so’exceeding furie at him strake,
That forced him to stoupe
[180] vpon his knee;
Had he not stouped so, he should haue clouen bee.
And to him said, Goe now proud Miscreant, xiii
Thy selfe thy message doe to german deare,
Alone he wandring thee too long doth want:
Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth beare.
Therewith his heauie hand he high gan reare,
Him to haue slaine; when loe a darkesome clowd
Vpon him fell: he no where doth appeare,
But vanisht is. The Elfe him cals alowd,
But answer none receiues: the darknes him does shrowd.
In haste Duessa from her place arose, xiv
And to him running said, O prowest knight,
That euer Ladie to her loue did chose,
Let now abate the terror
[181] of your might,
And quench the flame of furious despight,
And bloudie vengeance; lo th’infernall powres
Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
Haue borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.
The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.
[Pg 59]
Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye xv
He sought all round about, his thirstie
[182] blade
To bath
[183] in bloud of faithlesse enemy;
Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:
He standes amazed, how he thence should fade.
At last the trumpets
[184] 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 soueraine Queene, xvi
And falling her before on lowly knee,
To her makes present of his seruice seene:
Which she accepts, with thankes, and goodly gree,
Greatly aduauncing his gay cheualree.
So marcheth home, and by her takes the knight,
Whom all the people follow with great glee,
Shouting, and clapping all their hands on hight,
That all the aire it fils, and flyes to heauen bright.
Home is he brought, and laid in sumptuous bed: xvii
Where many skilfull leaches him abide,
To salue his hurts, that yet still freshly bled.
In wine and oyle they wash his woundes wide,
And softly can
[185] embalme on euery side.
And all the while, most heauenly melody
About the bed sweet musicke did diuide,
Him to beguile of griefe and agony:
And all the while Duessa wept full bitterly.
As when a wearie traueller
[186] that strayes
xviiiBy muddy shore of broad seuen-mouthed Nile,
Vnweeting of the perillous wandring wayes,
Doth meet a cruell craftie Crocodile,
Which in false griefe hyding his harmefull guile,
Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender teares:
The foolish man, that pitties all this while
His mournefull plight, is swallowd vp vnwares,
Forgetfull of his owne, that mindes anothers cares.
[Pg 60]
So wept Duessa vntill euentide, xix
That shyning lampes in Ioues high house were light:
Then forth she rose, ne lenger would abide,
But comes vnto the place, where th’Hethen knight
In slombring swownd
[187] nigh voyd of vitall spright,
Lay couer’d with inchaunted cloud all day:
Whom when she found, as she him left in plight,
To wayle his woefull case she would not stay,
But to the easterne coast of heauen makes speedy way.
Where griesly Night, with visage deadly sad, xx
That Phœbus chearefull face durst neuer vew,
And in a foule blacke pitchie mantle clad,
She findes forth comming from her darkesome mew,
Where she all day did hide her hated hew.
Before the dore her yron charet stood,
Alreadie harnessed for iourney new;
And coleblacke steedes yborne of hellish brood,
That on their rustie bits did champ, as they were wood.
Who when she saw Duessa sunny bright, xxi
Adornd with gold and iewels shining cleare,
She greatly grew amazed at the sight,
And th’vnacquainted light began to feare:
For neuer did such brightnesse there appeare,
And would haue backe retyred to her caue,
Vntill the witches speech she gan to heare,
Saying, Yet
[188] O thou dreaded Dame, I craue
Abide, till I haue told the message, which I haue.
She stayd, and foorth Duessa gan proceede, xxii
O thou most auncient Grandmother of all,
More old then Ioue, whom thou at first didst breede,
Or that great house of Gods cælestiall,
Which wast begot in Dæmogorgons hall,
And sawst the secrets of the world vnmade,
Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare to fall
With Elfin sword, most shamefully betrade?
Lo where the stout Sansioy doth sleepe in deadly shade.
[Pg 61]
And him before, I saw with bitter eyes xxiii
The bold Sansfoy shrinke vnderneath his speare;
And now the pray of fowles in field he lyes,
Nor wayld of friends, nor laid on groning beare,
That whylome was to me too dearely deare.
O what of Gods then boots it to be borne,
If old Aveugles sonnes so euill heare?
Or who shall not great
Nightes[189] children scorne,
When two of three her Nephews are so fowle forlorne.
Vp then, vp dreary Dame, of darknesse Queene, xxiv
Go gather vp the reliques of thy race,
Or else goe them auenge, and let be seene,
That dreaded Night in brightest day hath place,
And can the children of faire light deface.
Her feeling speeches some compassion moued
In hart, and chaunge in that great mothers face:
Yet pittie in her hart was neuer proued
Till then: for
[190] euermore she hated, neuer loued.
And said, Deare daughter rightly may I rew xxv
The fall of famous children borne of mee,
And good successes, which their foes ensew:
But who can turne the streame of destinee,
Or breake the chayne of strong necessitee,
Which fast is tyde to Ioues eternall seat?
The sonnes of Day he fauoureth, I see,
And by my ruines thinkes to make them great:
To make one great by others losse, is bad excheat.
Yet shall they not escape so freely all; xxvi
For some shall pay the price of others guilt:
And he the man that made Sansfoy to fall,
Shall with his owne bloud price that he hath spilt.
But what art thou, that telst of Nephews kilt?
I that do seeme not I,
Duessa am
[191],
(Quoth she) how euer now in garments gilt,
And gorgeous gold arayd I to thee came;
Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and Shame.
[Pg 62]
Then bowing downe her aged backe, she kist xxvii
The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face
The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist
Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace
It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place
Could it discerne, though I the mother bee
Of falshood
[192], and root of
Duessaes race.
O welcome child, whom I haue longd to see,
And now haue seene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.
Then to her yron wagon she betakes, xxviii
And with her beares the fowle welfauourd witch:
Through mirkesome aire her readie way she makes.
Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke as pitch,
And two were browne, yet each to each vnlich,
Did softly swim away, ne euer stampe,
Vnlesse she chaunst their stubborne mouths to twitch;
Then foming tarre, their bridles they would champe,
And trampling the fine element, would fiercely rampe.
So well they sped, that they be come at length xxix
Vnto the place, whereas the Paynim lay,
Deuoid of outward sense, and natiue strength,
Couerd with charmed cloud from vew of day,
And sight of men, since his late luckelesse fray.
His cruell wounds with cruddy bloud congealed,
They binden vp so wisely, as they may,
And handle softly, till they can be healed:
So lay him in her charet, close in night concealed.
And all the while she stood vpon the ground, xxx
The wakefull dogs did neuer cease to bay,
As giuing warning of th’vnwonted sound,
With which her yron wheeles did them affray,
And her darke griesly looke them much dismay;
The messenger of death, the ghastly Owle
With drearie shriekes did also her bewray;
And hungry Wolues continually did howle,
At her abhorred face, so filthy and so fowle.
[Pg 63]
Thence turning backe in silence soft they stole, xxxi
And brought the heauie corse with easie pace
To yawning gulfe of deepe Auernus hole.
By that same hole an entrance darke and bace
With smoake and sulphure hiding all the place,
Descends to hell: there creature neuer past,
That backe returned without heauenly grace;
But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines haue brast,
And damned sprights sent forth to make ill men aghast.
By that same way the direfull dames doe driue xxxii
Their mournefull charet, fild with rusty blood,
And downe to Plutoes house are come biliue:
Which passing through, on euery side them stood
The trembling ghosts with sad amazed mood,
Chattring their yron teeth, and staring wide
With stonie eyes; and all the hellish brood
Of feends infernall flockt on euery side,
To gaze on earthly wight, that with the Night durst ride.
They pas the bitter waues of Acheron, xxxiii
Where many soules sit wailing woefully,
And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton,
Whereas the damned ghosts in torments fry,
And with sharpe shrilling shriekes doe bootlesse cry,
Cursing high Ioue, the which them thither sent.
The house of endlesse paine is built thereby,
In which ten thousand sorts of punishment
The cursed creatures doe eternally torment.
Before the threshold dreadfull Cerberus xxxiv
His three deformed heads did lay along,
Curled with thousand adders venemous,
And lilled forth his bloudie flaming tong:
At them he gan to reare his bristles strong,
And felly gnarre, vntill dayes enemy
Did him appease; then downe his taile he hong
And suffered them to passen quietly:
For she in hell and heauen had power equally.
[Pg 64]
There was Ixion turned on a wheele, xxxv
For daring tempt the Queene of heauen to sin;
And Sisyphus an huge round stone did reele
Against an hill, ne might from labour lin;
There thirstie Tantalus hong by the chin;
And Tityus fed a vulture on his maw;
Typhœus ioynts were stretched on a gin,
Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth by law,
And fifty sisters water in leake
[193] vessels draw.
They all beholding worldly wights in place, xxxvi
Leaue off their worke, vnmindfull of their smart,
To gaze on them; who forth by them doe pace,
Till they be come vnto the furthest part:
Where was a Caue ywrought by wondrous art,
Deepe, darke, vneasie, dolefull, comfortlesse,
In which sad
Æsculapius farre a part
[194]Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse,
For that Hippolytus rent corse he did redresse.
Hippolytus a iolly huntsman was, xxxvii
That wont in charet chace the foming Bore;
He all his Peeres in beautie did surpas,
But Ladies loue as losse of time forbore:
His wanton stepdame loued him the more,
But when she saw her offred sweets refused
Her loue she turnd to hate, and him before
His father fierce of treason false accused,
And with her gealous termes his open eares abused.
Who all in rage his Sea-god syre besought, xxxviii
Some cursed vengeance on his sonne to cast:
From surging gulf two monsters straight were brought,
With dread whereof his chasing steedes aghast,
Both charet swift and huntsman ouercast.
His goodly corps on ragged cliffs
[195] yrent,
Was quite dismembred, and his members chast
Scattered on euery mountaine, as he went,
That of Hippolytus was left no moniment.
[Pg 65]
His cruell stepdame seeing what was donne, xxxix
Her wicked dayes with wretched knife did end,
In death auowing th’innocence of her sonne.
Which hearing his rash Syre, began to rend
His haire, and hastie tongue, that did offend:
Tho gathering vp the relicks
[196] of his smart
By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts frend,
Them brought to Æsculape, that by his art
Did heale them all againe, and ioyned euery part.
Such wondrous science in mans wit to raine xl
When Ioue auizd, that could the dead reuiue,
And fates expired could renew againe,
Of endlesse life he might him not depriue,
But vnto hell did thrust him downe aliue,
With flashing thunderbolt ywounded sore:
Where long remaining, he did alwaies striue
Himselfe with salues to health for to restore,
And slake the heauenly fire
[197], that raged euermore.
There auncient Night arriuing, did alight xli
From her nigh
[198] wearie waine, and in her armes
To Æsculapius brought the wounded knight:
Whom hauing softly disarayd of armes,
Tho gan to him discouer all his harmes,
Beseeching him with prayer, and with praise,
If either salues, or oyles, or herbes, or charmes
A fordonne wight from dore of death mote raise,
He would at her request prolong her nephews daies.
Ah Dame (quoth he) thou temptest me in vaine, xlii
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 heauen dew
Here endlesse penance for one fault I pay,
But that redoubled crime with vengeance new
Thou biddest me to eeke? Can Night defray
The wrath of thundring Ioue, that rules both night and day?
[Pg 66]
Not so (quoth she) but sith that heauens king xliii
From hope of heauen hath thee excluded quight,
Why fearest thou, that canst not hope for thing,
And fearest not, that more thee hurten might,
Now in the powre of euerlasting Night?
Goe to then, O thou farre renowmed
[199] sonne
Of great Apollo, shew thy famous might
In medicine, that else hath to thee wonne
Great paines, and greater praise, both neuer to be donne.
Her words preuaild: And then the learned leach xliv
His cunning hand gan to his wounds
[200] to lay,
And all things else, the which his art did teach:
Which hauing seene, from thence arose away
The mother of dread darknesse, and let stay
Aueugles sonne there in the leaches cure,
And backe returning tooke her wonted way,
To runne her timely race, whilst Phœbus pure
In westerne waues his wearie wagon did recure.
The false Duessa leauing noyous Night, xlv
Returnd to stately pallace of dame Pride;
Where when she came, she found the Faery knight
Departed thence, albe his woundes
[201] wide
Not throughly heald, vnreadie were to ride.
Good cause he had to hasten thence away;
For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spide,
Where in a dongeon
[202] deepe huge numbers
[203] lay
Of caytiue wretched thrals, that wayled night and day.
A ruefull sight, as could be seene with eie; xlvi
Of whom he learned had in secret wise
The hidden cause of their captiuitie,
How mortgaging their liues to Couetise,
Through wastfull Pride, and wanton Riotise,
They were by law of that proud Tyrannesse
Prouokt with Wrath, and Enuies false surmise,
Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse,
Where they should liue in woe, and die in wretchednesse.
[Pg 67]
There was that great proud king of Babylon, xlvii
That would compell all nations to adore,
And him as onely God to call vpon,
Till through celestiall doome throwne out of dore,
Into an Oxe he was transform’d of yore:
There also was king Crœsus, that enhaunst
His heart too high through his great riches store;
And proud Antiochus, the which aduaunst
His cursed hand gainst God, and on his altars
[204] daunst.
And them long time before, great Nimrod was, xlviii
That first the world with sword and fire warrayd;
And after him old Ninus farre did pas
In princely pompe, of all the world obayd;
There also was that mightie Monarch layd
Low vnder all, yet aboue all in pride,
That name of natiue syre did fowle vpbrayd,
And would as Ammons sonne be magnifide,
Till scornd of God and man a shamefull death he dide.
All these together in one heape were throwne, xlix
Like carkases of beasts in butchers stall.
And in another corner wide were strowne
The antique ruines of the Romaines fall:
Great Romulus the Grandsyre of them all,
Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus,
Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hanniball,
Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius,
High Cæsar, great Pompey, and fierce Antonius.
Amongst these mighty men were wemen mixt, l
Proud wemen, vaine, forgetfull of their yoke:
The bold Semiramis, whose sides transfixt
With sonnes owne blade, her fowle reproches spoke;
Faire Sthenobœa, that her selfe did choke
With wilfull cord
[205], for wanting of her will;
High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke
Of Aspes sting her selfe did stoutly kill:
And thousands moe the like, that did that dongeon fill.
[Pg 68]
Besides the endlesse routs of wretched thralles, li
Which thither were assembled day by day,
From all the world after their wofull falles,
Through wicked pride, and wasted wealthes decay.
But most of all, which in that
[206] Dongeon lay
Fell from high Princes courts, or Ladies bowres,
Where they in idle pompe, or wanton play,
Consumed had their goods, and thriftlesse howres,
And lastly throwne themselues into these heauy stowres.
Whose case when as the carefull Dwarfe had tould, lii
And made ensample of their mournefull sight
Vnto his maister, he no lenger would
There dwell in perill of like painefull plight,
But early rose, and ere that dawning light
Discouered had the world to heauen wyde,
He by a priuie Posterne tooke his flight,
That of no enuious eyes he mote be spyde:
For doubtlesse death ensewd, if any him descryde.
Scarse could he footing find in that fowle way, liii
For many corses, like a great Lay-stall
Of murdred men which therein strowed lay,
Without remorse, or decent funerall:
Which all through that great Princesse pride did fall
And came to shamefull end. And them beside
Forth ryding vnderneath the castell wall,
A donghill of dead carkases he spide,
The dreadfull spectacle of that sad house of Pride.
From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace
fayre Vna is releast:
Whom saluage nation does adore,
and learnes her wise beheast.
As when a ship, that flyes faire vnder saile, i
An hidden rocke escaped hath vnwares,
That lay in waite her wrack for to bewaile,
The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares
At perill past, and yet in
[207] doubt ne dares
To ioy at his foole-happie ouersight:
So doubly is distrest twixt ioy and cares
The dreadlesse courage
[208] of this Elfin knight,
Hauing escapt so sad ensamples in his sight.
Yet sad he was that his too hastie speed ii
The faire Duess’ had forst him leaue behind;
And yet more sad, that Vna his deare dreed
Her truth had staind with treason so vnkind;
Yet crime in her could neuer creature find,
But for his loue, and for her owne selfe sake,
She wandred had from one to other Ynd,
Him for to seeke, ne euer would forsake,
Till her vnwares the fierce Sansloy did ouertake.
Who after Archimagoes fowle defeat, iii
Led her away into a forrest wilde,
And turning wrathfull fire to lustfull heat,
With beastly sin thought her to haue defilde,
And made the vassall of his pleasures vilde.
Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes,
Her to perswade, that stubborne fort to yilde:
For greater conquest of hard loue he gaynes,
That workes it to his will, then he that it constraines.
[Pg 70]
With fawning wordes he courted her a while, iv
And looking louely, and oft sighing sore,
Her constant hart did tempt with diuerse guile:
But wordes,
[209] and lookes, and sighes she did abhore,
As rocke of Diamond stedfast euermore.
Yet for to feed his fyrie lustfull eye,
He snatcht the vele, that hong her face before;
Then gan her beautie shine, as brightest skye,
And burnt his beastly hart t’efforce her chastitye.
So when he saw his flatt’ring arts to fayle, v
And subtile engines bet from batteree,
With greedy force he gan the fort assayle,
Whereof he weend possessed soone to bee,
And win
[210] rich spoile of ransackt chastetee.
Ah heauens, that do this hideous act behold,
And heauenly virgin thus outraged see,
How can ye vengeance iust so long withhold,
And hurle not flashing flames vpon that Paynim bold?
The pitteous maiden carefull comfortlesse, vi
Does throw out thrilling shriekes, and shrieking cryes,
The last vaine helpe of womens great distresse,
And with loud plaints importuneth the skyes,
That molten starres do drop like weeping eyes;
And Phœbus flying so most shamefull sight,
His blushing face in foggy cloud implyes,
And hides for shame. What wit of mortall wight
Can now deuise to quit a thrall from such a plight?
Eternall prouidence exceeding thought, vii
Where none appeares can make her selfe a way:
A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought,
From Lyons clawes to pluck the griped pray.
Her shrill outcryes and shriekes so loud did bray,
That all the woodes and forestes did resownd;
A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,
Whiles old Syluanus slept in shady arber sownd.
[Pg 71]
Who when they heard that pitteous strained voice, viii
In hast forsooke their rurall meriment,
And ran towards the far rebownded noyce,
To weet, what wight so loudly did lament.
Vnto the place they come incontinent:
Whom when the raging Sarazin espide,
A rude, misshapen
[211], monstrous rablement,
Whose like he neuer saw, he durst not bide,
But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ride.
The wyld woodgods arriued in the place, ix
There find the virgin dolefull
[212] desolate,
With ruffled rayments, and faire blubbred face,
As her outrageous foe had left her late,
And trembling yet through feare of former hate;
All stand amazed at so vncouth sight,
And gin to pittie her vnhappie state,
All stand astonied at her beautie bright,
In their rude eyes vnworthie of so wofull plight.
She more amaz’d, in double dread doth dwell; x
And euery tender part for feare does shake:
As when a greedie Wolfe through hunger
[213] fell
A seely Lambe farre from the flocke does take,
Of whom he meanes his bloudie feast to make,
A Lyon spyes fast running towards him,
The innocent pray in hast he does forsake,
Which quit from death yet quakes in euery lim
With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon looke so grim.
Such fearefull fit assaid her trembling hart, xi
Ne word to speake, ne ioynt to moue she had:
The saluage nation feele her secret smart,
And read her sorrow in her count’nance sad;
Their frowning forheads with rough hornes yclad,
And rusticke horror all a side 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.
[Pg 72]
The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet commit xii
Her single person to their barbarous truth,
But still twixt feare and hope amazd does sit,
Late learnd what harme to hastie trust ensu’th,
They in compassion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beautie soueraine,
Are wonne with pitty and vnwonted ruth,
And all prostrate vpon the lowly plaine,
Do kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count’nance faine.
Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise, xiii
And yieldes her to extremitie of time;
So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,
And walketh forth without suspect of crime:
They all as glad, as birdes of ioyous Prime,
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 oliue girlond cround.
And all the way their merry pipes they sound, xiv
That all the woods with doubled
[214] Eccho ring,
And with their horned feet do weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant Spring.
So towards old Syluanus they her bring;
Who with the noyse awaked, commeth out,
To weet the cause, his weake steps gouerning,
And aged limbs on Cypresse stadle stout,
And with an yuie twyne his wast
[215] is girt about.
Far off he wonders, what them makes so glad, xv
Or
[216] Bacchus merry fruit they did inuent,
Or Cybeles franticke rites haue made them mad;
They drawing nigh, vnto their God present
That flowre of faith and beautie excellent.
The God himselfe vewing that mirrhour rare,
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent;
His owne faire Dryope now he thinkes not faire,
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.
[Pg 73]
The woodborne people fall before her flat, xvi
And worship her as Goddesse of the wood;
And old Syluanus selfe bethinkes not, what
To thinke of wight so faire, but gazing stood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly brood;
Sometimes Dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,
But Venus neuer had so sober mood;
Sometimes Diana he her takes to bee,
But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.
By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue xvii
His ancient loue, and dearest Cyparisse,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy
Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;
For griefe whereof the lad n’ould after ioy,
But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.
The wooddy Nymphes, faire Hamadryades xviii
Her to behold do thither runne apace,
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades,
Flocke all about to see her louely face:
But when they vewed haue her heauenly grace,
They enuie her in their malitious mind,
And fly 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 maid, xix
Did her content to please their feeble eyes,
And long time with that saluage people staid,
To gather breath in many miseries.
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 restraine
From her own worship, they her Asse would worship fayn.
[Pg 74]
It fortuned a noble warlike knight xx
By iust occasion to that forrest came,
To seeke his kindred, and the lignage right,
From whence he tooke his well deserued name:
He had in armes abroad wonne muchell fame,
And fild far landes with glorie of his might,
Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of shame,
And euer lou’d to fight for Ladies right,
But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did delight.
A Satyres sonne yborne in forrest wyld, xxi
By straunge aduenture as it did betyde,
And there begotten of a Lady myld,
Faire Thyamis the daughter of Labryde,
That was in sacred bands of wedlocke tyde
To Therion, a loose vnruly swayne;
Who had more ioy to raunge the forrest wyde,
And chase the saluage beast with busie payne,
Then serue his Ladies loue, and wast in pleasures vayne.
The forlorne mayd did with loues longing burne, xxii
And could not lacke her louers company,
But to the wood she goes, to serue her turne,
And seeke her spouse, that from her still does fly,
And followes other game and venery:
A Satyre chaunst her wandring for to find,
And kindling coles of lust in brutish eye,
The loyall links of wedlocke did vnbind,
And made her person thrall vnto his beastly kind.
So long in secret cabin there he held xxiii
Her captiue to his sensuall desire,
Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld,
And bore a boy vnto that saluage sire:
Then home he suffred her for to retire,
For ransome leauing him the late borne childe;
Whom till to ryper yeares he gan aspire,
He noursled
[217] vp in life and manners wilde,
Emongst wild beasts and woods, from lawes of men exilde.
[Pg 75]
For all he taught the tender ymp, was but xxiv
To banish cowardize and bastard feare;
His trembling hand he would him force to put
Vpon 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 ouertake,
That euery beast for feare of him did fly and quake.
Thereby so fearelesse, and so fell he grew, xxv
That his owne sire and maister of his guise
Did often tremble at his horrid vew,
And oft for dread of hurt would him aduise,
The angry beasts not rashly to despise,
Nor too much to prouoke; for he would learne
The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise,
(A lesson hard) and make the Libbard sterne
Leaue roaring, when in rage he for reuenge did earne.
And for to make his powre approued more, xxvi
Wyld beasts 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 fierce and fell
[218];
And them constraine in equall teme to draw.
Such ioy he had, their stubborne harts to quell,
And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull aw,
That his beheast they feared, as a
[219] tyrans law.
His louing mother came vpon a day xxvii
Vnto the woods, to see her little sonne;
And chaunst vnwares 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 requere
Her children deare, whom he away had wonne:
The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,
And lull in rugged armes, withouten childish feare.
[Pg 76]
The fearefull Dame all quaked at the sight, xxviii
And turning backe, gan fast to fly away,
Vntill with loue reuokt 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 ioy,
For loue of me leaue 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 delights of bloudy game xxix
He trayned was, till ryper yeares he raught,
And there abode, whilst any beast of name
Walkt in that forest, whom he had not taught
To feare his force: and then his courage haught
Desird of forreine foemen to be knowne,
And far abroad for straunge aduentures sought:
In which his might was neuer ouerthrowne,
But through all Faery lond his famous worth was blown.
Yet euermore it was his manner faire, xxx
After long labours and aduentures spent,
Vnto those natiue woods for to repaire,
To see his sire and ofspring auncient.
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he vnwares the fairest Vna 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 heauenly rare, xxxi
Whose like in womens wit he neuer 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 ioyd to make proofe of her crueltie
On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse, and so trew:
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company,
And learnd her discipline of faith and veritie.
[Pg 77]
But she all vowd vnto the Redcrosse knight, xxxii
His wandring perill closely did lament,
Ne in this new acquaintaunce could delight,
But her deare heart with anguish did torment,
And all her wit in secret counsels spent,
How to escape. At last in priuie wise
To Satyrane she shewed her intent;
Who glad to gain such fauour, gan deuise,
How with that pensiue Maid he best might thence arise.
So on a day when Satyres all were gone, xxxiii
To do their seruice to Syluanus old,
The gentle virgin left behind alone
He led away with courage stout and bold.
Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,
Or euer hope recouer her againe:
In vaine he seekes that hauing cannot hold.
So fast he carried her with carefull paine,
That they the woods
[220] are past, and come now to the plaine.
The better part now of the lingring day, xxxiv
They traueild had, when as they farre espide
A wearie wight forwandring by the way,
And towards him they gan in hast to ride,
To weet of newes, that did abroad betide,
Or tydings 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 weedes forworne, xxxv
And soild with dust of the long dried way;
His sandales were with toilesome trauell torne,
And face all tand with scorching sunny ray,
As he had traueild many a sommers day,
Through boyling sands of Arabie and Ynde;
And in his hand a Iacobs staffe, to stay
His wearie limbes vpon: and eke behind,
His scrip did hang, in which his needments he did bind.
[Pg 78]
The knight approching nigh, of him inquerd xxxvi
Tydings of warre, and of aduentures new;
But warres, nor new aduentures none he herd.
Then Vna gan to aske, if ought he knew,
Or heard abroad of that her champion trew,
That in his armour bare a croslet red.
Aye me, Deare dame (quoth he) well may I rew
To tell the sad sight, which mine eies haue red:
These eyes did see that knight both liuing and eke ded.
That cruell word her tender hart so thrild, xxxvii
That suddein cold did runne
[221] through euery vaine,
And stony horrour all her sences fild
With dying fit, that downe she fell for paine.
The knight her lightly reared vp againe,
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe:
Then wonne from death, she bad him tellen plaine
The further processe of her hidden griefe;
The lesser pangs can beare, who hath endur’d the chiefe.
Then gan the Pilgrim thus, I chaunst this day, xxxviii
This fatall day, that shall I euer rew,
To see two knights in trauell on my way
(A sory sight) arraung’d in battell new,
Both breathing vengeaunce, both of wrathfull hew:
My fearefull flesh did tremble at their strife,
To see their blades so greedily imbrew,
That drunke
[222] with bloud, yet thristed
[223] after life:
What more? the Redcrosse knight was slaine with Paynim knife.
Ah dearest Lord (quoth she) how might that bee, xxxix
And he the stoutest knight, that euer wonne?
Ah dearest dame (quoth he) 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 vs of ioy hath reft?
Not far away (quoth he
[224]) he hence doth wonne
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him left
Washing his bloudy wounds, that through the steele were cleft.
[Pg 79]
Therewith the knight thence marched forth in hast, xl
Whiles Vna with huge heauinesse opprest,
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:
Euen he it was, that earst would haue supprest
Faire Vna: whom when Satyrane espide,
With fowle reprochfull words he boldly him defide.
And said, Arise thou cursed Miscreaunt, xli
That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train
Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the Redcrosse to haue slain:
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield.
The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,
And catching vp in hast his three square shield,
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to the field.
And drawing nigh him said, Ah misborne Elfe, xlii
In euill houre thy foes thee hither sent,
Anothers wrongs to wreake vpon thy selfe:
Yet ill thou blamest me, for hauing blent
My name with guile and traiterous intent;
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I neuer 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 prouen trew.
Therewith they gan, both furious and fell, xliii
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 liuing eie.
Large floods of bloud adowne their sides did raile;
But floods of bloud could not them satisfie:
Both hungred
[225] after death: both chose to win, or die.
[Pg 80]
So long they fight, and fell
[226] reuenge pursue,
xlivThat fainting each, themselues to breathen let,
And oft refreshed, battell oft renue:
As when two Bores with rancling malice met,
Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,
Til breathlesse both them selues aside retire,
Where foming wrath, their cruell tuskes they whet,
And trample th’earth, the whiles they may respire;
Then backe to fight againe, new breathed and entire.
So fiersly, when these knights had breathed once, xlv
They gan to fight returne, increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruell rage attonce,
With heaped strokes more hugely, then before,
That with their drerie wounds and bloudy gore
They both deformed, scarsely could be known.
By this sad Vna fraught with anguish sore,
Led with their noise, which through the aire was thrown,
[227]Arriu’d, where they in erth their fruitles bloud had sown.
Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin xlvi
Espide, he gan reuiue the memory
Of his lewd lusts, and late attempted sin,
And left the doubtfull battell hastily,
To catch her, newly offred to his eie:
But Satyrane with strokes him turning, staid,
And sternely bad him other businesse plie,
Then hunt the steps of pure vnspotted Maid:
Wherewith he all enrag’d, these bitter speaches said.
O foolish faeries sonne, what furie mad xlvii
Hath thee incenst, to hast thy dolefull fate
[228]?
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 loue another. Lo then for thine ayd
Here take thy louers token on thy pate.
So they to
[229] fight; the whiles the royall Mayd
Fled farre away, of that proud Paynim sore afrayd.
[Pg 81]
But that false Pilgrim, which that leasing told, xlviii
Being in deed old Archimage, did stay
In secret shadow, all this to behold,
And much reioyced in their bloudy 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.
The Redcrosse knight is captiue made
By Gyaunt proud opprest,
Prince Arthur meets with Vna greatly
with those newes distrest.
What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware, i
As to descry the crafty cunning traine,
By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,
And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine,
To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,
[230]The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?
Great maistresse of her art was that false Dame,
The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes name.
Who when returning from the drery Night, ii
She fownd not in that perilous house of Pryde,
Where she had left, the noble Redcrosse knight,
Her hoped pray,
[231] she would no lenger bide,
But forth she went, to seeke him far and wide.
Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie sate,
To rest him selfe, foreby a fountaine side,
Disarmed all of yron-coted Plate,
And by his side his steed the grassy forage ate.
[Pg 82]
He feedes vpon the cooling shade, and bayes iii
His sweatie forehead in the breathing wind,
Which through the trembling leaues full gently playes
Wherein the cherefull birds of sundry kind
Do chaunt sweet musick, to delight his mind:
The Witch approching gan him fairely greet,
And with reproch of carelesnesse vnkind
Vpbrayd, for leauing her in place vnmeet,
With fowle words tempring faire, soure gall with hony sweet.
Vnkindnesse past, they gan of solace treat, iv
And bathe in pleasaunce of the ioyous shade,
Which shielded them against the boyling heat,
And with greene boughes decking a gloomy glade,
About the fountaine like a girlond made;
Whose bubbling waue did euer freshly well,
Ne euer would through feruent sommer fade:
The sacred Nymph, which therein wont to dwell,
Was out of Dianes fauour, as it then befell.
The cause was this: one day when Phœbe fayre v
With all her band was following the chace,
This Nymph, quite tyr’d with heat of scorching ayre
Sat downe to rest in middest of the race:
The goddesse wroth gan fowly her
[232] disgrace,
And bad the waters, which from her did flow,
Be such as she her selfe was then in place.
Thenceforth her waters waxed
[233] dull and slow,
And all that drunke thereof, did
[234] faint and feeble grow.
Hereof this gentle knight vnweeting was, vi
And lying downe vpon the sandie graile,
Drunke of the streame, as cleare as cristall glas;
[235]Eftsoones his manly forces gan to faile,
And mightie strong was turnd to feeble fraile.
His chaunged powres at first them selues not felt,
Till crudled cold his corage gan assaile,
And chearefull bloud in faintnesse chill did melt,
Which like a feuer fit through all his body swelt.
[Pg 83]
Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame, vii
Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,
Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,
Which through the wood loud bellowing, did rebownd,
That all the earth for terrour seemd to shake,
And trees did tremble. Th’Elfe therewith astownd,
Vpstarted lightly from his looser make,
And his vnready weapons gan in hand to take.
But ere he could his armour on him dight, viii
Or get his shield, his monstrous enimy
With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight,
An hideous Geant horrible and hye,
That with his talnesse seemd to threat the skye,
The ground eke groned vnder him for dreed;
His liuing like saw neuer liuing eye,
Ne durst behold: his stature did exceed
The hight of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed.
The greatest Earth his vncouth mother was, ix
And blustring Æolus his boasted sire,
Who with his breath, which through the world doth pas,
Her hollow womb did secretly inspire,
And fild her hidden caues with stormie yre,
That she conceiu’d; and trebling the dew time,
In which the wombes of women
[236] do expire,
Brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime,
Puft vp with emptie wind, and fild with sinfull crime.
So growen great through arrogant delight x
Of th’high descent, whereof he was yborne,
And through presumption of his matchlesse might,
All other powres and knighthood he did scorne.
Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne,
And left to losse: his stalking steps are stayde
Vpon a snaggy Oke, which he had torne
Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made
His mortall mace, wherewith his foemen he dismayde.
[Pg 84]
That when the knight he spide, he gan aduance xi
With huge force and insupportable mayne,
And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;
Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse,
[237] all in vaine
Did to him pace, sad battaile to darrayne,
Disarmd, disgrast, and inwardly dismayde,
And eke so faint in euery ioynt and vaine,
Through that fraile fountaine, which him feeble made,
That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse single blade.
The Geaunt strooke so maynly mercilesse, xii
That could haue ouerthrowne a stony towre,
And were not heauenly grace, that him did blesse,
He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre:
But he was wary of that deadly stowre,
And lightly lept from vnderneath the blow:
Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre,
That with the wind it did him ouerthrow,
And all his sences stound
[238], that still he lay full low.
As when that diuelish yron Engin wrought xiii
In deepest Hell, and framd by Furies skill,
With windy Nitre and quick Sulphur fraught,
And ramd with bullet
[239] round, ordaind to kill,
Conceiueth fire, the heauens it doth fill
With thundring noyse, and all the ayre doth choke,
That none can breath, nor see, nor heare at will,
Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke
[240],
That th’onely breath him daunts, who hath escapt the stroke.
So daunted when the Geaunt saw the knight,
[241] xivHis heauie hand he heaued vp on hye,
And him to dust thought to haue battred quight,
Vntill Duessa loud to him gan crye;
O great Orgoglio, greatest vnder skye,
O hold thy mortall hand for Ladies sake,
Hold for my sake, and do him not to dye,
But vanquisht thine eternall bondslaue make,
And me thy worthy meed vnto thy Leman take.
[Pg 85]
He hearkned, and did stay from further harmes, xv
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 new found make.
Then vp 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 without remorse.
From that day forth Duessa was his deare, xvi
And highly honourd in his haughtie eye,
He gaue her gold and purple pall to weare,
And triple crowne set on her head full hye,
And her endowd with royall maiestye:
Then for to make her dreaded more of men,
And peoples harts with awfull terrour tye,
A monstrous beast ybred in filthy fen
He chose, which he had kept long time in darksome den.
Such one it was, as that renowmed Snake xvii
Which great Alcides in Stremona slew,
Long fostred in the filth of Lerna lake,
Whose many heads out budding euer new,
Did breed him endlesse labour to subdew:
But this same Monster much more vgly was;
For seuen great heads out of his body grew,
An yron brest, and backe of scaly bras,
And all embrewd in bloud, his eyes did shine as glas.
His tayle was stretched out in wondrous length, xviii
That to the house of heauenly gods it raught,
And with extorted powre, and borrow’d strength,
The euer-burning lamps from thence it brought
[242],
And prowdly threw to ground, as things of nought
[243];
And vnderneath his filthy feet did tread
The sacred things, and holy heasts foretaught.
Vpon this dreadfull Beast with seuenfold head
He set the false Duessa, for more aw and dread.
[Pg 86]
The wofull Dwarfe, which saw his maisters fall, xix
Whiles he had keeping of his grasing steed,
And valiant knight become a caytiue thrall,
When all was past, tooke vp his forlorne weed,
His mightie armour, missing most at need;
His siluer shield, now idle maisterlesse;
His poynant speare, that many made to bleed,
The ruefull moniments of heauinesse,
And with them all departes, to tell his great distresse.
He had not trauaild long, when on the way xx
He wofull Ladie, wofull Vna met,
Fast flying from the
[244] Paynims greedy pray,
Whilest Satyrane him from pursuit did let:
Who when her eyes she on the Dwarfe had set,
And saw the signes, that deadly tydings spake,
She fell to ground for sorrowfull regret,
And liuely breath her sad brest did forsake,
Yet might her pitteous hart be seene to pant and quake.
The messenger of so vnhappie newes
[245] xxiWould faine haue dyde: dead was his hart within,
Yet outwardly some little comfort shewes:
At last recouering hart, he does begin
To rub her temples, and to chaufe her chin,
And euery tender part does tosse and turne:
So hardly he the flitted life does win,
Vnto her natiue prison to retourne:
Then gins her grieued ghost thus to lament and mourne.
Ye dreary instruments of dolefull sight, xxii
That doe this deadly spectacle behold,
Why do ye lenger feed on loathed light,
Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould,
Sith cruell fates the carefull threeds vnfould,
The which my life and loue together tyde?
Now let the stony dart of senselesse cold
Perce to my hart, and pas through euery side,
And let eternall night so sad sight
[246] fro me hide.
[Pg 87]
O lightsome day, the lampe of highest Ioue, xxiii
First made by him, mens wandring wayes to guyde,
When darknesse he in deepest dongeon droue,
Henceforth thy hated face for euer hyde,
And shut vp heauens windowes shyning 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 vp with death, shall haue their deadly meed.
Then downe againe she fell vnto the ground; xxiv
But he her quickly reared vp againe:
Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly swownd,
And thrise he her reviu’d with busie paine:
At last when life recouer’d had the raine,
And ouer-wrestled his strong enemie,
With foltring tong, and trembling euery vaine,
Tell on (quoth she) the wofull Tragedie,
The which these reliques sad present vnto mine eie.
Tempestuous fortune hath spent all her spight, xxv
And thrilling sorrow throwne his vtmost dart;
Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heauy plight,
Then that I feele, and harbour in mine hart:
Who hath endur’d the whole, can beare each part.
If death it be, it is not the first wound,
That launched hath my brest with bleeding smart.
Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound;
If lesse, then that I feare,
[247] more fauour I haue found.
Then gan the Dwarfe the whole discourse declare, xxvi
The subtill traines of Archimago old;
The wanton loues of false Fidessa faire,
Bought with the bloud of vanquisht Paynim bold:
The wretched payre transform’d to treen mould;
The house of Pride, and perils round about;
The combat, which he with Sansioy did hould;
The lucklesse conflict with the Gyant stout,
Wherein captiu’d, of life or death he stood in doubt.
[Pg 88]
She heard with patience all vnto the end, xxvii
And stroue to maister sorrowfull assay,
Which greater grew, the more she did contend,
And almost rent her tender hart in tway;
And loue fresh coles vnto her fire did lay:
For greater loue, the greater is the losse.
Was neuer Ladie loued dearer day,
Then she did loue the knight of the Redcrosse;
For whose deare sake so many troubles her did tosse.
At last when feruent sorrow slaked was, xxviii
She vp arose, resoluing him to find
A liue or dead: and forward forth doth pas,
All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd:
And euermore in constant carefull mind
he fed her wound with fresh renewed bale;
Long tost with stormes, and bet with bitter wind,
High ouer hils, and low adowne the dale,
She wandred many a wood, and measurd many a vale.
At last she chaunced by good hap to meet xxix
A goodly knight, faire marching by the way
Together with his Squire, arayed meet:
His glitterand armour shined farre away,
Like glauncing light of Phœbus brightest ray;
From top to toe no place appeared bare,
That deadly dint of steele endanger may:
Athwart his brest a bauldrick braue he ware,
That shynd, like twinkling stars, with stons most pretious rare.
And in the midst thereof one pretious stone xxx
Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights,
Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding shone,
Like Hesperus emongst the lesser lights,
And stroue for to amaze the weaker sights;
Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong
In yuory sheath, ycaru’d with curious slights;
Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong
Of mother pearle, and buckled with a golden tong.
[Pg 89]
His haughtie helmet, horrid all with gold, xxxi
Both glorious brightnesse, and great terrour bred;
For all the crest a Dragon did enfold
With greedie pawes, and ouer all did spred
His golden wings: his dreadfull hideous hed
Close couched on the beuer, seem’d to throw
From flaming mouth bright sparkles fierie red,
That suddeine horror to faint harts did show;
And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his backe full low.
Vpon the top of all his loftie crest, xxxii
A bunch
[248] of haires discolourd diuersly,
With sprincled pearle, and gold full richly drest,
Did shake, and seem’d to daunce for iollity,
Like to an Almond tree ymounted hye
On top of greene
Selinis[249] all alone,
With blossomes braue bedecked daintily;
Whose
[250] tender locks do tremble euery one
At euery little breath, that vnder heauen is blowne.
His warlike shield all closely couer’d was, xxxiii
Ne might of mortall eye be euer seene;
Not made of steele
[251], nor of enduring bras,
Such earthly mettals soone consumed bene:
But all of Diamond perfect pure and cleene
It framed was, one massie entire mould,
Hewen out of Adamant rocke with engines keene,
That point of speare it neuer percen could,
Ne dint of direfull sword diuide the substance would.
The same to wight he neuer wont disclose, xxxiv
But when as monsters huge he would dismay,
Or daunt vnequall armies of his foes,
Or when the flying heauens he would affray;
For so exceeding shone his glistring ray,
That Phœbus golden face it did attaint,
As when a cloud his beames doth ouer-lay;
And siluer Cynthia wexed pale and faint,
As when her face is staynd with magicke arts constraint.
[Pg 90]
No magicke arts hereof had any might, xxxv
Nor bloudie 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 appall,
Men into stones therewith he could transmew,
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.
Ne let it seeme
[252], that credence this exceedes,
xxxviFor he that made the same, was knowne right well
To haue done much more admirable deedes.
It Merlin was, which whylome did excell
All liuing 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 Faerie Queene it brought
To Faerie lond, where yet it may be seene, if sought.
A gentle youth, his dearely loued Squire xxxvii
His speare of heben wood behind him bare,
Whose harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire,
Had riuen many a brest with pikehead square;
A goodly person, and could menage faire
[253]His stubborne steed with curbed canon bit,
Who vnder him did trample
[254] as the aire,
And chauft
[255], that any on his backe should sit;
The yron rowels into frothy fome he bit.
When as this knight nigh to the Ladie drew, xxxviii
With louely court he gan her entertaine;
But when he heard her answeres loth, he knew
Some secret sorrow did her heart distraine:
Which to allay, and calme her storming paine,
Faire feeling words he wisely gan display,
And for her humour fitting purpose faine,
To tempt the cause it selfe for to bewray;
Wherewith emmou’d
[256], these bleeding words she gan to say.
[Pg 91]
What worlds delight, or ioy of liuing speach xxxix
Can heart, so plung’d in sea of sorrowes deepe,
And heaped with so huge misfortunes, reach?
The carefull cold beginneth for to creepe,
And in my heart his yron arrow steepe,
Soone as I thinke vpon my bitter bale:
Such helplesse harmes yts better hidden keepe,
Then rip vp griefe, where it may not auaile,
My last left comfort is, my woes to weepe and waile.
Ah Ladie deare, quoth then the gentle knight, xl
Well may I weene, your griefe is wondrous great;
For wondrous great griefe groneth in my spright,
Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes treat.
But wofull Ladie let me you intrete,
For to vnfold the anguish of your hart:
Mishaps are maistred by aduice discrete,
And counsell mittigates the greatest smart;
Found neuer helpe, who neuer would his hurts impart.
O but (quoth she) great griefe will not be tould, xli
And can more easily be thought, then said.
Right so; (quoth he) but he, that neuer would,
Could neuer: will to might giues greatest aid.
But griefe (quoth she) does greater grow displaid,
If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire.
Despaire breedes not (quoth he) where faith is staid.
No faith so fast (quoth she) but flesh does paire.
Flesh may empaire (quoth he) but reason can repaire.
His goodly reason, and well guided speach xlii
So deepe did settle in her gratious thought,
That her perswaded to disclose the breach,
Which loue and fortune in her heart had wrought,
And said; Faire
[257] Sir, I hope good hap hath brought
You to inquire
[258] the secrets of my griefe,
Or that your wisedome will direct my thought,
Or that your prowesse can me yield reliefe:
Then heare the storie sad, which I shall tell you briefe.
[Pg 92]
The forlorne Maiden, whom your eyes haue seene xliii
The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries,
Am th’only daughter of a King and Queene,
Whose parents deare, whilest
[259] equall destinies
Did runne
[260] about, and their felicities
The fauourable heauens did not enuy,
Did spread their rule through all the territories,
Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by,
And
Gehons[261] golden waues doe wash continually.
Till that their cruell cursed enemy, xliv
An huge great Dragon horrible in sight,
Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary,
With murdrous rauine, and deuouring might
Their kingdome spoild, and countrey wasted quight:
Themselues, for feare into his iawes to fall,
He forst to castle strong to take their flight,
Where fast embard in mightie brasen wall,
He has them now foure yeres besiegd to make them thrall.
Full many knights aduenturous and stout xlv
Haue enterprizd that Monster to subdew;
From euery coast that heauen walks about,
Haue thither come the noble Martiall crew,
That famous hard atchieuements still pursew,
Yet neuer any could that girlond win,
But all still shronke, and still he greater grew:
All they for want of faith, or guilt of sin,
The pitteous pray of his fierce crueltie haue bin.
At last yledd with farre reported praise, xlvi
Which flying fame throughout the world had spred,
Of doughtie 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 deliuer might.
[Pg 93]
It was my chance (my chance was faire and good) xlvii
There for to find a fresh vnproued knight,
Whose manly hands
[262] imbrew’d in guiltie blood
Had neuer bene, ne euer by his might
Had throwne to ground the vnregarded right:
Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath made
(I witnesse am) in many a cruell fight;
The groning ghosts of many one dismaide
Haue felt the bitter dint of his auenging blade.
And ye the forlorne reliques of his powre, xlviii
His byting sword, and his deuouring speare,
Which haue endured many a dreadfull 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 ruefull losse,
And of my dolefull disauenturous deare:
O heauie record of the good Redcrosse,
Where haue you
[263] left your Lord, that could so well you tosse?
Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had, xlix
That he my captiue langour
[264] should redeeme,
Till all vnweeting, an Enchaunter bad
His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme
My loyalty, not such as it did seeme;
That rather death desire, then such despight.
Be iudge ye heauens, that all things right esteeme,
How I him lou’d, and loue with all my might,
So thought I eke of him, and thinke I thought aright.
Thenceforth me desolate he quite forsooke, l
To wander, where wilde fortune would me lead,
And other bywaies he himselfe betooke,
Where neuer foot of liuing wight did tread,
That brought not backe the balefull body dead;
In which him chaunced false Duessa meete,
Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread,
Who with her witchcraft and misseeming sweete,
Inueigled him to follow her desires vnmeete.
[Pg 94]
At last by subtill sleights she him betraid li
Vnto his foe, a Gyant huge and tall,
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid,
Vnwares surprised, and with mightie mall
The monster mercilesse him made to fall,
Whose fall did neuer foe before behold;
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched thrall,
Remedilesse, for aie he doth him hold;
This is my cause of griefe, more great, then may be told.
Ere she had ended all, she gan to faint: lii
But he her comforted and faire bespake,
Certes, Madame, ye haue 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 haue acquit your captiue knight,
Assure your selfe, I will you not forsake.
His chearefull words reuiu’d her chearelesse spright,
So forth they went, the Dwarfe them guiding euer right.
Faire virgin to redeeme her deare
brings Arthur to the fight:
Who slayes the Gyant[265], wounds the beast,
and strips Duessa quight.
Ay me, how many perils doe enfold i
The righteous man, to make him daily fall?
Were not, that heauenly grace doth him vphold,
And stedfast truth acquite him out of all.
Her loue is firme, her care continuall,
So oft as he through
[266] his owne foolish pride,
Or weaknesse is to sinfull bands made thrall:
Else should this Redcrosse knight in bands haue dyde,
For whose deliuerance she this Prince doth thither guide.
They sadly traueild thus, vntill they came ii
Nigh to a castle builded strong and hie:
Then cryde the Dwarfe, lo yonder is the same,
In which my Lord my liege doth lucklesse lie,
Thrall to that Gyants hatefull tyrannie:
Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres assay.
The noble knight alighted by and by
From loftie steede, and bad the Ladie stay,
To see what end of fight should him befall that day.
So with the
[267] Squire, th’admirer of his might,
iiiHe marched forth towards that castle wall;
Whose gates he found fast shut, ne lining wight
To ward the same, nor answere commers call.
Then tooke that Squire an horne of bugle small,
Which hong adowne his side in twisted gold,
And tassels gay. Wyde wonders ouer all
Of that same hornes great vertues weren told,
Which had approued bene in vses manifold.
[Pg 96]
Was neuer wight, that heard that shrilling sound, iv
But trembling feare did feele in euery vaine;
Three miles it might be easie heard around,
And Ecchoes three answerd it selfe againe:
No false enchauntment, nor deceiptfull traine
Might once abide the terror of that blast,
But presently was voide 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 Geants gate he blew, v
That all the castle quaked from the ground,
And euery dore of freewill open flew.
The Gyant selfe dismaied with that sownd,
Where he with his Duessa dalliance fownd,
In hast came rushing forth from inner bowre,
With staring countenance sterne, as one astownd,
And staggering steps, to weet, what suddein stowre
[268]Had wrought that horror strange, and dar’d his dreaded powre.
And after him the proud Duessa came, vi
High mounted on her manyheaded beast,
And euery head with fyrie tongue did flame,
And euery head was crowned on his creast,
And bloudie mouthed with late cruell feast.
That when the knight beheld, his mightie shild
Vpon his manly arme he soone addrest,
And at him fiercely flew, with courage fild,
And eger greedinesse through euery member thrild.
Therewith the Gyant buckled him to fight, vii
Inflam’d with scornefull wrath and high disdaine,
And lifting vp his dreadfull club on hight,
All arm’d with ragged snubbes and knottie graine,
Him thought at first encounter to haue slaine.
But wise
[269] and warie was that noble Pere,
And lightly leaping from so monstrous maine,
Did faire auoide the violence him nere;
It booted nought, to thinke, such thunderbolts to beare.
[Pg 97]
Ne shame he thought to shunne
[270] so hideous might:
viiiThe idle stroke, enforcing furious way,
Missing the marke of his misaymed sight
Did fall to ground, and with his heauie sway
So deepely dinted in the driuen clay,
That three yardes deepe a furrow vp did throw:
The sad earth wounded with so sore assay,
Did grone full grieuous vnderneath the blow,
And trembling with strange feare, did like an earthquake show.
As when almightie Ioue in wrathfull mood, ix
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent,
Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food,
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment,
Through riuen cloudes and molten firmament;
The fierce threeforked engin making way,
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent,
And all that might his angrie passage stay,
And shooting in the earth, casts vp a mount of clay.
His boystrous club, so buried in the ground, x
He could not rearen vp againe so light,
But that the knight him at auantage
[271] found,
And whiles he stroue his combred clubbe to quight
Out of the earth, with blade all burning bright
He smote off his left arme, which like a blocke
Did fall to ground, depriu’d of natiue might;
Large streames of bloud out of the truncked stocke
Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riuen rocke.
Dismaied with so desperate deadly wound, xi
And eke impatient of vnwonted paine,
He loudly brayd with beastly yelling sound,
That all the fields rebellowed againe;
As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
Do for the milkie mothers want complaine,
And fill the fields with troublous bellowing,
The neighbour woods around with hollow murmur ring
[272].
[Pg 98]
That when his deare Duessa heard, and saw xii
The euill stownd, that daungerd her estate,
Vnto his aide she hastily did draw
Her dreadfull beast, who swolne with bloud of late
Came ramping forth with proud presumpteous
[273] gate,
And threatned all his heads like flaming brands.
But him the Squire made quickly to retrate,
Encountring fierce with single sword in hand,
And twixt him and his Lord did like a bulwarke stand.
The proud Duessa full of wrathfull spight, xiii
And fierce disdaine, to be affronted so,
Enforst her purple beast with all her might
That stop out of the way to ouerthroe,
Scorning the let of so vnequall foe:
But nathemore would that courageous swayne
To her yeeld passage, gainst his Lord to goe,
But with outrageous strokes did him restraine,
And with his bodie bard the way atwixt them twaine.
Then tooke the angrie witch her golden cup, xiv
Which still she bore, replete with magick artes;
Death and despeyre did many thereof sup,
And secret poyson through their inner
[274] parts,
Th’eternall bale of heauie wounded harts;
Which after charmes and some enchauntments said,
She lightly sprinkled on his weaker parts;
Therewith his sturdie courage soone was quayd,
And all his senses were with suddeine dread dismayd.
So downe he fell before the cruell beast, xv
Who on his necke his bloudie clawes did seize,
That life nigh
[275] crusht out of his panting brest:
No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize.
That when the carefull knight gan well auise,
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 loued Squire into such thraldome brought.
[Pg 99]
And high aduauncing his bloud-thirstie blade, xvi
Stroke one of those deformed heads so sore,
That of his puissance proud ensample made;
His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore,
And that misformed shape mis-shaped more:
A sea of bloud gusht from the gaping wound,
That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore,
And ouerflowed all the field around;
That ouer shoes in bloud he waded on the ground.
Thereat he roared for exceeding paine, xvii
That to haue heard, great horror would haue bred,
And scourging th’emptie ayre with his long traine,
Through great impatience of his grieued hed
His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted
Would haue cast downe, and trod in durtie myre,
Had not the Gyant soone her succoured;
Who all enrag’d with smart and franticke yre,
Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre.
The force, which wont in two to be disperst, xviii
In one alone left hand he now vnites,
Which is through rage more strong then both were erst;
With which his hideous club aloft he dites,
And at his foe with furious rigour smites,
That strongest Oake might seeme to ouerthrow:
The stroke vpon his shield so heauie lites,
That to the ground it doubleth him full low
[276]:
What mortall wight could euer beare so monstrous blow?
And in his fall his shield, that couered was, xix
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew:
The light whereof, that heauens light did pas,
Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw,
That eye mote not the same endure to vew.
Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye,
He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew
His weapon huge, that heaued was on hye
For to haue slaine the man, that on the ground did lye.
[Pg 100]
And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amaz’d xx
At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,
Became starke blind, and all his senses daz’d,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field,
And seem’d himselfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maistresse proud perceiu’d to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,
Vnto the Gyant loudly she gan call,
O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or else we perish all.
At her so pitteous cry was much amoou’d
[277] xxiHer champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proou’d:
But all in vaine: for he has read his end
In that bright shield, and all their
[278] forces spend
Themselues 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 senses quight.
Whom when the Prince, to battell new addrest, xxii
And threatning high his dreadfull 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 clift,
Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,
The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.
Or as a Castle reared high and round, xxiii
By subtile engins and malitious slight
Is vndermined from the lowest ground,
And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,
At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight
Her hastie ruine does more heauie make,
And yields it selfe vnto the victours might;
Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemd to shake
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.
[Pg 101]
The knight then lightly leaping to the pray, xxiv
With mortall steele him smot againe so sore,
That headlesse his vnweldy bodie lay,
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store.
[279]But soone as breath out of his
[280] breast 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 bladder was.
Whose grieuous fall, when false Duessa spide, xxv
Her golden cup she cast vnto the ground,
And crowned mitre rudely threw aside;
Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound,
That she could not endure that dolefull stound,
But leauing all behind her, fled away:
The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,
And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay,
So brought vnto his Lord, as his deserued pray.
The royall Virgin, which beheld from farre, xxvi
In pensiue plight, and sad perplexitie,
The whole atchieuement of this doubtfull warre,
Came running fast to greet his victorie,
With sober gladnesse, and myld modestie,
And with sweet ioyous cheare him thus bespake;
Faire braunch of noblesse, flowre of cheualrie,
That with your worth the world amazed make,
How shall I quite the paines, ye suffer for my sake?
And you fresh bud of vertue springing fast, xxvii
Whom these sad eyes saw nigh vnto deaths dore,
What hath poore Virgin for such perill past,
Wherewith you to reward? Accept therefore
My simple selfe, and seruice euermore;
And he that high does sit, and all things see
With equall eyes
[281], their merites to restore,
Behold what ye this day haue done for mee,
And what I cannot quite, requite with vsuree.
[Pg 102]
But sith the heauens, and your faire handeling
[282] xxviiiHaue made you maister
[283] of the field this day,
Your fortune maister eke with gouerning,
And well begun 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 dongeon lay,
Where he his better dayes hath wasted all.
O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd does call.
Forthwith he gaue in charge vnto his Squire, xxix
That scarlot whore to keepen carefully;
Whiles he himselfe with greedie great desire
Into the Castle entred forcibly,
[284]Where liuing 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 ouer all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene in bowre or hall.
At last with creeping crooked pace forth came xxx
An
[285] old old man, with beard as white as snow,
That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame,
And guide his wearie gate both too and fro:
For his eye sight him failed long ygo,
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore,
The which vnused rust did ouergrow:
Those were the keyes of euery inner dore,
But he could not them vse, but kept them still in store.
But very vncouth sight was to behold, xxxi
How he did fashion his vntoward pace,
For as he forward moou’d his footing old,
So backward still was turnd his wrincled face,
Vnlike to men, who euer as they trace,
Both feet and face one way are wont to lead.
This was the auncient keeper of that place,
And foster father of the Gyant dead;
His name Ignaro did his nature right aread.
[Pg 103]
His reuerend haires and holy grauitie xxxii
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.
Againe he askt, where that same knight was layd,
Whom great Orgoglio with his puissaunce fell
Had made his caytiue thrall;
[286] againe he sayde,
He could not tell: ne euer other answere made.
Then asked he, which way he in might pas: xxxiii
He could not tell, againe he answered.
Thereat the curteous
[287] knight displeased was,
And said, Old sire, it seemes thou hast not red
How ill it sits
[288] with that same siluer hed
In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to bee:
But if thou be, as thou art pourtrahed
With natures pen, in ages graue degree,
Aread in grauer wise, what I demaund of thee.
His answere likewise was, he could not tell. xxxiv
Whose sencelesse speach, and doted ignorance
When as the noble Prince had marked well,
He ghest his nature by his countenance,
And calmd his wrath with goodly temperance.
Then to him stepping, from his arme did reach
Those keyes, and made himselfe free enterance.
Each dore he opened without any breach;
There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to empeach.
There all within full rich arayd he found, xxxv
With royall arras and resplendent gold.
And did with store of euery thing abound,
That greatest Princes presence might behold.
But all the floore (too filthy to be told)
With bloud of guiltlesse babes, and innocents trew,
Which there were slaine, as sheepe out of the fold,
Defiled was, that dreadfull was to vew,
And sacred ashes ouer it was strowed new.
[Pg 104]
And there beside of marble stone was built xxxvi
An Altare, caru’d with cunning imagery,
On which true Christians bloud was often spilt,
And holy Martyrs often doen to dye,
With cruell malice and strong tyranny:
Whose blessed sprites from vnderneath the stone
To God for vengeance cryde continually,
And with great griefe were often heard to grone,
That hardest heart would bleede, to heare their piteous mone.
Through euery rowme he sought, and euery bowr, xxxvii
But no where could he find that wofull thrall:
At last he came vnto 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 liuing wight
Were housed therewithin, whom he enlargen might.
Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmuring voyce xxxviii
These piteous plaints and dolours did resound;
O who is that, which brings me happy choyce
Of death, that here lye dying euery stound,
Yet liue perforce in balefull darkenesse bound?
For now three Moones haue changed thrice their hew,
And haue beene thrice hid vnderneath the ground,
Since I the heauens chearefull face did vew,
O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.
Which when that Champion heard, with percing point xxxix
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore,
And trembling horrour ran through euery ioynt,
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 euer forth a filthie banefull smell.
[Pg 105]
But neither darkenesse fowle, nor filthy bands, xl
Nor noyous smell his purpose could withhold,
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands)
But that with constant zeale, and courage bold,
After long paines and labours manifold,
He found the meanes that Prisoner vp to reare;
Whose feeble thighes, vnhable to vphold
His pined corse, him scarse to light could beare,
A ruefull spectacle of death and ghastly drere.
His sad dull eyes deepe sunck in hollow pits, xli
Could not endure th’vnwonted sunne to view;
His bare thin cheekes for want of better bits,
And empty sides deceiued of their dew,
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew;
His rawbone armes, whose mighty brawned bowrs
Were wont to riue steele plates, and
[289] helmets hew,
Were cleane consum’d, and all his vitall powres
Decayd, and all his flesh shronk vp like withered flowres.
Whom when his Lady saw, to him she ran xlii
With hasty ioy: to see him made her glad,
And sad to view his visage pale and wan,
Who earst in flowres of freshest youth was clad.
Tho when her well of teares she wasted had,
She said, Ah dearest Lord, what euill starre
On you hath fround, and pourd his influence bad,
That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre,
And this misseeming hew your manly looks doth marre?
But welcome now my Lord, in wele or woe, xliii
Whose presence I haue lackt too long a day;
And fie
[290] on Fortune mine auowed foe,
Whose wrathfull wreakes them selues do now alay.
And for these wrongs shall treble penaunce pay
Of treble good: good growes of euils priefe.
The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did dismay,
Had no delight to treaten of his griefe;
His long endured famine needed more reliefe.
[Pg 106]
Faire Lady, then said that victorious knight, xliv
The things, that grieuous were to do, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight;
Best musicke breeds †delight
[291] in loathing eare:
But th’onely good, that growes of passed feare,
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein.
This dayes ensample hath this lesson deare
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen,
That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men.
Henceforth sir knight, take to you wonted strength, xlv
And maister these mishaps with patient might;
Loe where your foe lyes stretcht in monstrous 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 liue, or dye.
To do her dye (quoth Vna) were despight,
And shame t’auenge so weake an enimy;
But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let her fly.
So as she bad, that witch they disaraid, xlvi
And robd of royall robes, and purple pall,
And ornaments that richly were displaid;
Ne spared they to strip her naked all.
Then when they had despoild her tire and call,
Such as she was, their eyes might her behold,
That her misshaped
[292] parts did them appall,
A loathly, wrinckled hag, ill fauoured, old,
Whose secret filth good manners biddeth not be told.
Her craftie head was altogether bald, xlvii
And as in hate of honorable eld,
Was ouergrowne with scurfe and filthy scald;
Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were feld,
And her sowre breath abhominably smeld;
Her dried dugs, like bladders lacking wind,
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them weld;
Her wrizled skin as rough, as maple rind,
So scabby was, that would haue loathd all womankind.
[Pg 107]
Her neather parts, the shame of all her kind, xlviii
My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to write;
[293]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 vneuen paw:
More vgly shape yet neuer liuing creature saw.
Which when the knights beheld, amazd they were, xlix
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight.
Such then (said Vna) 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,
They let her goe at will, and wander wayes vnknowne.
She flying fast from heauens hated face, l
And from the world that her discouered wide,
Fled to the wastfull wildernesse apace,
From liuing eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurkt
[294] in rocks and caues long vnespide.
But that faire crew of knights, and Vna faire
Did in that castle afterwards abide,
To rest them selues, and weary powres repaire,
Where store they found of all, that dainty was and rare.
His loues and lignage Arthur tells:[295]
The knights knit friendly bands[296]:
Sir Treuisan flies from Despayre,
Whom Redcrosse knight withstands.
O Goodly golden chaine, wherewith yfere i
The vertues linked are in lonely wize:
And noble minds of yore allyed were,
In braue poursuit of cheualrous emprize,
That none did others safety despize,
Nor aid enuy to him, in need that stands,
But friendly each did others prayse deuize
[297]How to aduaunce with fauourable hands,
As this good Prince redeemd the Redcrosse knight from bands.
Who when their powres,
[298] empaird through labour long,
iiWith dew repast they had recured well,
And that weake captiue wight now wexed strong,
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their aduentures fell,
But ere they parted, Vna faire besought
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die vnknown, and buried be in thanklesse thought.
Faire virgin (said the Prince) ye me require iii
A thing without the compas of my wit:
For both the lignage and the certain Sire,
From which I sprong, from me are hidden yit.
For all so soone as life did me admit
Into this world, and shewed heauens light,
From mothers pap I taken was vnfit:
And streight deliuered to a Faery knight,
To be vpbrought in gentle thewes and martiall might.
[Pg 109]
Vnto old Timon he me brought byliue, iv
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath beene
In warlike feates th’expertest man aliue,
And is the wisest now on earth I weene;
His dwelling is low in a valley greene,
Vnder the foot of Rauran mossy hore,
From whence the riuer Dee as siluer cleene
His tombling billowes rolls with gentle rore:
There all my dayes he traind me vp in vertuous lore.
Thither the great Magicien Merlin came, v
As was his vse, ofttimes to visit me:
For he had charge my discipline to frame,
And Tutours nouriture to ouersee.
Him oft and oft I askt in priuitie,
Of what loines and what lignage I did spring:
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee,
That I was sonne and heire vnto a king,
As time in her iust terme the truth to light should bring.
Well worthy impe, said then the Lady gent, vi
And Pupill fit for such a Tutours hand.
But what aduenture, or what high intent
Hath brought you hither into Faery land,
Aread Prince Arthur, crowne of Martiall band?
Full hard it is (quoth he) to read aright
The course of heauenly cause, or vnderstand
The secret meaning of th’eternall might,
That rules mens wayes, and rules the thoughts of liuing wight.
For whither he through fatall deepe foresight vii
Me hither sent, for cause to me vnghest,
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day and night
Whilome doth rancle in my riuen brest,
With forced fury following his behest,
Me hither brought by wayes yet neuer found,
You to haue helpt I hold my selfe yet blest.
Ah curteous knight (quoth she) what secret wound
Could euer find, to grieue the gentlest hart on ground?
[Pg 110]
Deare Dame (quoth he) you sleeping sparkes awake, viii
Which troubled once, into huge flames will grow,
Ne euer will their feruent fury slake,
Till liuing moysture into smoke do flow,
And wasted life do lye in ashes low.
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire,
But told it flames, and hidden it does glow,
I will reuele, what ye so much desire:
Ah Loue, lay downe thy bow, the
[299] whiles I may respire.
It was in freshest flowre of youthly yeares, ix
When courage first does creepe in manly chest,
Then first the
[300] coale of kindly heat appeares
To kindle loue in euery liuing brest;
But me had warnd old
Timons[301] wise behest,
Those creeping flames by reason to subdew,
Before their rage grew to so great vnrest,
As miserable louers vse to rew,
Which still wex old in woe, whiles woe still wexeth new.
That idle name of loue, and louers life, x
As losse of time, and vertues enimy
I euer scornd, and ioyd to stirre vp strife,
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy,
Ay wont to laugh, when them I heard to cry,
And blow the fire, which them to ashes brent:
Their God himselfe, grieu’d at my libertie,
Shot many a dart at me with fiers intent,
But I them warded all with wary gouernment.
But all in vaine: no fort can be so strong, xi
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sound,
But will at last be wonne with battrie long,
Or vnawares
[302] at disauantage found;
Nothing is sure, that growes on earthly ground:
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly might,
And boasts, in beauties chaine not to be bound,
Doth soonest fall in disauentrous fight,
And yeeldes his caytiue neck to victours most despight.
[Pg 111]
Ensample make of him your haplesse ioy, xii
And of my selfe now mated, as ye see;
Whose prouder vaunt that proud auenging boy
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my libertie.
For on a day prickt forth with iollitie
Of looser life, and heat of hardiment,
Raunging the forest wide on courser free,
The fields, the floods, the heauens with one consent
Did seeme to laugh on
[303] me, and fauour mine intent.
For-wearied with my sports, I did alight xiii
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me layd;
The verdant gras my couch did goodly dight,
And pillow was my helmet faire displayd:
Whiles euery sence the humour sweet embayd,
And slombring soft my hart did steale away,
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd
Her daintie limbes full softly down did lay:
So faire a creature yet saw neuer sunny day.
Most goodly glee and louely blandishment xiv
She to me made, and bad me loue her deare,
For dearely sure her loue was to me bent,
As when iust time expired should appeare.
But whether dreames delude, or true it were,
Was neuer hart so rauisht with delight,
Ne liuing man like words did euer heare,
As she to me deliuered all that night;
And at her parting said, She Queene of Faeries hight.
When I awoke, and found her place deuoyd, xv
And nought but pressed gras, where she had lyen,
I sorrowed all so much, as earst I ioyd,
And washed all her place with watry eyen.
From that day forth I lou’d that face diuine;
From that day forth I cast in carefull mind,
To seeke her out with labour, and long tyne,
And neuer vow
[304] to rest, till her I find,
Nine monethes I seeke in vaine yet ni’ll that vow vnbind.
[Pg 112]
Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale, xvi
And chaunge of hew great passion did bewray;
Yet still he stroue to cloke his inward bale,
And hide the smoke, that did his fire display,
Till gentle Vna thus to him gan say;
O happy Queene of Faeries, that hast found
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse may
Defend thine honour, and thy foes confound:
True Loues are often sown, but seldom grow on ground.
Thine, O then, said the gentle Redcrosse knight, xvii
Next to that Ladies loue, shalbe the place,
O fairest virgin, full of heauenly light,
Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly race,
Was firmest fixt in mine extremest case.
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life,
Of that great Queene may well gaine worthy grace:
For onely worthy you through prowes priefe
Yf liuing man mote worthy be, to be her liefe.
So diuersly discoursing of their loues, xviii
The golden Sunne his glistring head gan shew,
And sad remembraunce now the Prince amoues,
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew:
Als Vna earnd her traueill to renew.
Then those two knights, fast friendship for to bynd,
And loue establish each to other trew,
Gaue goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull mynd,
And eke as
[305] pledges firme, right hands together ioynd.
Prince Arthur gaue a boxe of Diamond sure, xix
Embowd with gold and gorgeous ornament,
Wherein were closd few drops of liquor pure,
Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent,
That any wound could heale incontinent:
Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight him gaue
A booke, wherein his
[306] Saueours testament
Was writ with golden letters rich and braue;
A worke of wondrous grace, and able
[307] soules to saue.
[Pg 113]
Thus beene they parted, Arthur on his way xx
To seeke his loue, and th’other for to fight
With Vnaes 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 recouered had his former hew:
For him to be yet weake and wearie well she knew.
So as they traueild, lo they gan espy xxi
An armed knight towards them gallop fast,
That seemed from some feared foe to fly,
Or other griesly thing, that him agast.
Still as he fled, his eye was backward cast,
As if his feare still followed him behind;
Als flew his steed, as he his bands had brast,
And with his winged heeles did tread the wind,
As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his kind.
Nigh as he drew, they might perceiue his head xxii
To be vnarmd, and curld vncombed heares
Vpstaring stiffe, dismayd with vncouth dread;
Nor drop of bloud in all his face appeares
Nor life in limbe: and to increase his feares,
In fowle reproch of knighthoods faire degree,
About his neck an hempen rope he weares,
That with his glistring armes does ill agree;
But he of rope or armes has now no memoree.
The Redcrosse knight toward him crossed fast, xxiii
To weet, what mister wight was so dismayd:
There him he finds 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 deliuer might;
Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd,
And eke from whom make ye this hasty flight:
For neuer knight I saw in such misseeming plight.
[Pg 114]
He answerd nought at all, but adding new xxiv
Feare to his first amazment, staring wide
With stony eyes, and hartlesse hollow hew,
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspide
[308]Infernall furies, with their chaines vntide.
Him yet againe, and yet againe bespake
The gentle knight; who nought to him replide,
But trembling euery ioynt did inly quake,
And foltring tongue at last these words seemd forth to shake.
For Gods deare loue, Sir knight, do me not stay; xxv
For loe he comes, he comes fast after mee.
Eft looking backe would faine haue runne away;
But he him forst to stay, and tellen free
The secret cause of his perplexitie:
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach,
Could his bloud-frosen hart emboldned bee,
But through his boldnesse rather feare did reach,
Yet forst, at last he made through silence suddein breach.
And am I now in safetie sure (quoth he) xxvi
From him, that would haue forced me to dye?
And is the point of death now turnd fro mee,
That I may tell this haplesse history?
Feare nought: (quoth he) no daunger now is nye.
[309]Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,
(Said he) the which with this vnlucky eye
I late beheld, and had not greater grace
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the place.
I lately chaunst (Would I had neuer chaunst) xxvii
With a faire knight to keepen companee,
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe aduaunst
In all affaires, and was both bold and free,
But not so happie as mote happie bee:
He lou’d, as was his lot, a Ladie gent,
That him againe lou’d in the least degree:
For she was proud, and of too high intent,
And ioyd to see her louer languish and lament.
[Pg 115]
From whom returning sad and comfortlesse, xxviii
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villen (God from him me blesse)
That cursed wight, from whom I scapt whyleare,
A man of hell, that cals himselfe Despaire:
Who first vs greets, and after faire areedes
Of tydings strange, and of aduentures rare:
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden weedes,
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly deedes.
Which when he knew, and felt our feeble harts xxix
Embost with bale, and bitter byting griefe,
Which loue had launched
[310] with his deadly darts,
With wounding words and termes of foule repriefe
[311]He pluckt from vs all hope of due reliefe,
That earst vs held in loue of lingring life;
Then hopelesse hartlesse, gan the cunning thiefe
Perswade vs die, to stint all further strife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rustie knife.
With which sad instrument of hastie death, xxx
That wofull louer, loathing lenger light,
A wide way made to let forth liuing breath.
But I more fearefull, or more luckie wight,
Dismayd with that deformed dismall sight,
Fled fast away, halfe dead with dying feare:
Ne yet assur’d of life by you, Sir knight,
Whose like infirmitie like chaunce may beare:
But God you neuer let his charmed speeches heare.
How may a man (said he) with idle speach xxxi
Be wonne, to spoyle the Castle of his health?
I wote (quoth he) whom triall late did teach,
That like would not for all this worldes wealth:
His subtill tongue, like dropping honny, mealt’th
[312]Into the hart, and searcheth euery vaine,
That ere one be aware, by secret stealth
His powre is reft, and weaknesse doth remaine.
O neuer Sir desire to try his guilefull traine.
[Pg 116]
Certes (said he) hence shall I neuer rest, xxxii
Till I that treachours art haue heard and tride;
And you Sir knight, whose name mote I request,
Of grace do me vnto his cabin guide.
I that hight Treuisan (quoth he) will ride
Against my liking backe, to doe you grace:
But nor for gold nor glee will I abide
By you, when ye arriue in that same place;
For leuer had I die, then see his deadly face.
Ere long they come, where that same wicked wight xxxiii
His dwelling has, low in an hollow caue,
Farre vnderneath a craggie clift ypight
[313],
Darke, dolefull, drearie, like a greedie graue,
That still for carrion carcases doth craue:
On top whereof aye dwelt the ghastly Owle,
Shrieking his balefull note, which euer draue
Farre from that haunt all other chearefull fowle;
And all about it wandring ghostes did waile and howle.
And all about old stockes and stubs of trees, xxxiv
Whereon nor fruit, nor leafe was euer seene,
Did hang vpon the ragged rocky knees;
On which had many wretches hanged beene,
Whose carcases were scattered
[314] on the greene,
And throwne about the cliffs
[315]. Arriued there,
That bare-head knight for dread and dolefull teene,
Would faine haue fled, ne durst approchen neare,
But th’other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.
That darkesome caue they enter, where they find xxxv
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind;
His griesie lockes, long growen, and vnbound,
Disordred hong about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;
His raw-bone cheekes through penurie and pine,
Were
[316] shronke into his iawes, as he did neuer dine.
[Pg 117]
His garment nought but many ragged clouts, xxxvi
With thornes together pind and patched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside there lay vpon the gras
A drearie corse, whose life away did pas,
All wallowd in his owne yet luke-warme blood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rustie knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushing flood.
Which piteous spectacle, approuing trew xxxvii
The wofull tale that Treuisan had told,
When as the gentle Redcrosse knight did vew,
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold,
Him to auenge, before his bloud were cold,
And to the villein said, Thou damned wight,
The author of this fact, we here behold,
What iustice can but iudge against thee right,
With thine owne bloud to price his bloud, here shed in sight?
[317]
What franticke fit (quoth he) hath thus distraught xxxviii
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to giue?
What iustice euer other iudgement taught,
But he should die, who merites not to liue?
None else to death this man despayring driue,
But his owne guiltie mind deseruing death.
Is then vniust to each his due to giue?
Or let him die, that loatheth liuing breath?
Or let him die at ease, that liueth here vneath?
Who trauels
[318] by the wearie wandring way,
xxxixTo come vnto his wished home in haste,
And meetes a flood, that doth his passage stay,
Is not great grace to helpe him ouer past,
Or free his feet, that in the myre sticke fast?
Most enuious man, that grieues at neighbours good,
And fond, that ioyest in the woe thou hast,
Why wilt not let him passe, that long hath stood
Vpon the banke, yet wilt thy selfe not passe the flood?
[Pg 118]
He there does now enioy eternall rest xl
And happie ease, which thou doest want and craue,
And further from it daily wanderest:
What if some litle paine the passage haue,
That makes fraile flesh to feare the bitter waue?
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet graue?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
The knight much wondred at his suddeine wit, xli
And said, The terme of life is
[319] limited,
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten it;
The souldier may not moue from watchfull sted,
Nor leaue his stand, vntill his Captaine bed.
Who life did limit by almightie doome,
(Quoth he) knowes best the termes established;
And he, that points the Centonell his roome,
Doth license him depart at sound of morning droome.
Is not his deed, what euer thing is donne, xlii
In heauen and earth? did not he all create
To die againe? all ends that was begonne.
Their times in his eternall booke of fate
Are written sure, and haue their certaine date.
Who then can striue with strong necessitie,
That holds the world in his still chaunging state,
Or shunne the death ordaynd by destinie?
When houre of death is come, let none aske whence, nor why.
The lenger life, I wote the greater sin, xliii
The greater sin, the greater punishment:
All those great battels, which thou boasts to win,
Through strife, and bloud-shed, and auengement,
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt repent:
For life must life, and bloud must bloud repay.
Is not enough thy euill life forespent?
For he, that once hath missed the right way,
The further he doth goe, the further he doth stray.
[Pg 119]
Then do no further goe, no further stray, xliv
But here lie downe, and to thy rest betake,
Th’ill to preuent, that life ensewen may.
For what hath life, that may it loued make,
And giues not rather cause it to forsake?
Feare, sicknesse, age, losse, labour, sorrow, strife,
Paine, hunger, cold, that makes the hart to quake;
And euer fickle fortune rageth rife,
All which, and thousands mo do make a loathsome life.
Thou wretched man, of death hast greatest need, xlv
If in true ballance thou wilt weigh thy state:
For neuer knight, that dared warlike deede,
More lucklesse disauentures did amate:
Witnesse the dongeon deepe, wherein of late
Thy life shut vp, 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 maiest happen fall.
Why then doest thou, O man of sin, desire xlvi
To draw thy dayes forth to their last degree?
Is not the measure of thy sinfull hire
High heaped vp with huge iniquitie,
Against the day of wrath, to burden thee?
Is not enough, that to this Ladie milde
Thou falsed
[320] hast thy faith with periurie,
And sold thy selfe to serue Duessa vilde,
With whom in all abuse thou hast thy selfe defilde?
Is not he iust, that all this doth behold xlvii
From highest heauen, and beares an equall eye?
Shall he thy sins vp in his knowledge fold,
And guiltie be of thine impietie?
Is not his law, Let euery sinner die:
Die shall all flesh? what then must needs be donne,
Is it not better to doe willinglie,
Then linger, till the glasse be all out ronne?
Death is the end of woes: die soone, O faeries sonne.
[Pg 120]
The knight was much enmoued with his speach, xlviii
That as a swords point through his hart did perse,
And in his conscience made a secret breach,
Well knowing true all, that he did reherse,
And to his fresh remembrance did reuerse
The vgly 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.
In which amazement, when the Miscreant xlix
Perceiued him to wauer weake and fraile,
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience dant,
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile,
To driue him to despaire, and quite to quaile,
He shew’d him painted in a table plaine,
The damned ghosts, that doe in torments waile,
And thousand feends that doe them endlesse paine
With fire and brimstone, which for euer shall remaine.
The sight whereof so throughly him dismaid, l
That nought but death before his eyes he saw,
And euer burning wrath before him laid,
By righteous sentence of th’Almighties law:
Then gan the villein him to ouercraw,
And brought vnto him swords, ropes, poison, fire,
And all that might him to perdition draw;
And bad him choose, what death he would desire:
For death was due to him, that had prouokt Gods ire.
But when as none of them he saw him take, li
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and keene,
And gaue it him in hand: his hand did quake,
And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene,
And troubled bloud through his pale face was seene
To come, and goe with tydings from the hart,
As it a running messenger had beene.
At last resolu’d to worke his finall smart,
He lifted vp his hand, that backe againe did start.
[Pg 121]
Which when as
Vna saw
[321], through euery vaine
liiThe crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but soone reliu’d
[322] 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 harted knight,
What meanest thou by this reprochfull strife?
Is this the battell, which thou vauntst to fight
With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible and bright?
Come, come away, fraile, feeble
[323], fleshly wight,
liiiNe let vaine words bewitch thy manly hart,
Ne diuelish thoughts dismay thy constant spright.
In heauenly mercies hast thou not a part?
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that chosen art?
Where iustice growes, there grows eke greater grace,
The which doth quench the brond of hellish smart,
And that accurst hand-writing doth deface.
[324]Arise, Sir knight arise, and leaue this cursed place.
So vp he rose, and thence amounted streight. liv
Which when the carle beheld, and saw his guest
Would safe depart, for all his subtill sleight,
He chose an halter from among the rest,
And with it hung himselfe, vnbid vnblest.
But death he could not worke himselfe thereby;
For thousand times he so himselfe had drest,
Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die,
Till he should die his last, that is eternally.
Her faithfull knight faire Vna brings
to house of Holinesse,
Where he is taught repentance, and
the way to heauenly blesse.
What man is he, that boasts of fleshly might, i
And vaine assurance of mortality,
Which all so soone, as it doth come to fight,
Against spirituall foes, yeelds by and by,
Or from the field most cowardly doth fly?
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill,
That thorough grace hath gained victory.
If any strength we haue, it is to ill,
But all the good is Gods, both power and eke will.
By that, which lately hapned, Vna saw, ii
That this her knight was feeble, and too faint;
And all his sinews woxen weake and raw,
Through long enprisonment
[325], and hard constraint,
Which he endured in his late restraint,
That yet he was vnfit for bloudie fight:
Therefore to cherish him with diets daint,
She cast to bring him, where he chearen might,
Till he recouered had his late decayed plight.
There was an auntient house not farre away, iii
Renowmd throughout the world for sacred lore,
And pure vnspotted life: so well they say
It gouernd was, and guided euermore,
Through wisedome of a matrone graue and hore;
Whose onely ioy was to relieue the needes
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpelesse pore:
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes,
And all the day in doing good and godly deedes.
[Pg 123]
Dame Cœlia men did her call, as thought iv
From heauen to come, or thither to arise,
The mother of three daughters, well vpbrought
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 louely fere
Was lincked, and by him had many pledges dere.
Arriued there, the dore they find fast lockt; v
For it was warely watched night and day,
For feare of many foes: but when they knockt,
The Porter opened vnto them streight way:
He was an aged syre, all hory gray,
With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full slow,
Wont on a staffe his feeble steps to stay,
Hight Humiltá. They passe in stouping low;
For streight and narrow was the way, which he did show.
Each goodly thing is hardest to begin, vi
But entred in a spacious court they see,
Both plaine, and pleasant 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 speeches and behauiour hee
Did labour liuely to expresse the same,
And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall they came.
There fairely them receiues a gentle Squire, vii
Of milde demeanure, and rare courtesie,
Right cleanly clad in comely sad attire;
In word and deede that shew’d great modestie,
And knew his good to all of each degree,
Hight Reuerence. He them with speeches meet
Does faire entreat; no courting nicetie,
But simple true
[326], and eke vnfained sweet,
As might become a Squire so great persons to greet.
[Pg 124]
And afterwards them to his Dame he leades, viii
That aged Dame, the Ladie of the place:
Who all this while was busie at her beades:
Which doen, she vp arose with seemely grace,
And toward them full matronely did pace.
Where when that fairest Vna she beheld,
Whom well she knew to spring from heauenly race,
Her hart with ioy vnwonted inly sweld,
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker eld.
And her embracing said, O happie earth, ix
Whereon thy innocent feet doe euer tread,
Most vertuous virgin borne of heauenly berth,
That to redeeme thy woefull parents head,
From tyrans rage, and euer-dying dread,
Hast wandred through the world now long a day;
Yet ceasest not thy wearie soles to lead,
What grace hath thee now hither brought this way?
Or doen thy feeble feet vnweeting hither stray?
Strange thing it is an errant knight to see x
Here in this place, or any other wight,
That hither turnes his steps. So few there bee,
That chose
[327] the narrow path, or seeke the right:
All keepe the broad high way, and take delight
With many rather for to go astray,
And be partakers of their euill plight,
Then with a few to walke the rightest way;
O foolish men, why haste ye to your owne decay?
Thy selfe to see, and tyred limbs to rest, xi
O matrone sage (quoth she) I hither came,
And this good knight his way with me addrest,
Led with thy prayses and broad-blazed fame,
That vp to heauen is blowne. The auncient Dame
[328]Him goodly greeted in her modest guise,
And entertaynd them both, as best became,
With all the court’sies, that she could deuise,
Ne wanted ought, to shew her bounteous or wise.
[Pg 125]
Thus as they gan of sundry things deuise, xii
Loe two most goodly virgins came in place,
Ylinked arme in arme in louely wise,
With countenance demure, and modest grace,
They numbred euen steps and equall pace:
Of which the eldest, that Fidelia hight,
Like sunny beames threw from her Christall face,
That could haue dazd the rash beholders sight,
And round about her head did shine like heauens light.
She was araied all in lilly white, xiii
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold,
With wine and water fild vp to the hight,
In which a Serpent did himselfe enfold,
That horrour made to all, that did behold;
But she no whit did chaunge her constant mood:
And in her other hand she fast did hold
A booke, that was both signd and seald with blood,
Wherein darke things were writ, hard to be vnderstood.
Her younger sister, that Speranza hight, xiv
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:
Vpon her arme a siluer anchor lay,
Whereon she leaned euer, as befell:
And euer vp to heauen, as she did pray,
Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarued other way.
They seeing Vna, towards her gan wend, xv
Who them encounters with like courtesie;
Many kind speeches they betwene them spend,
And greatly ioy each other well
[329] to see:
Then to the knight with shamefast modestie
They turne themselues, at Vnaes meeke request,
And him salute with well beseeming glee;
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed best,
And goodly gan
[330] discourse of many a noble gest.
[Pg 126]
Then Vna thus; But she your sister deare; xvi
The deare Charissa where is she become?
Or wants she health, or busie is elsewhere?
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.
Indeede (quoth she) that should her
[331] trouble sore,
But thankt be God, and her encrease so euermore.
Then said the aged Cœlia, Deare dame, xvii
And you good Sir, I wote that of your toyle,
And labours long, through which ye hither came,
Ye both forwearied be: therefore a whyle
I read you rest, and to your bowres recoyle.
Then called she a Groome, that forth him led
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile
Of puissant armes, and laid in easie bed;
His name was meeke Obedience rightfully ared.
Now when their wearie limbes with kindly rest, xviii
And bodies were refresht with due repast,
Faire Vna gan Fidelia faire request,
To haue her knight into her schoolehouse plaste,
That of her heauenly learning he might taste,
And heare the wisedome of her words diuine.
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 bloud ywrit, xix
That none could read, except she did them teach,
She vnto him disclosed euery whit,
And heauenly documents thereout did preach,
That weaker wit of man could neuer reach,
Of God, of grace, of iustice, of free will,
That wonder was to heare her goodly speach:
For she was able, with her words to kill,
And raise againe to life the hart, that she did thrill.
[Pg 127]
And when she list poure out her larger spright, xx
She would commaund the hastie Sunne to stay,
Or backward turne his course from heauens hight;
Sometimes great hostes of men she could dismay,
Dry-shod to passe, she parts the flouds in tway;
[332]And eke huge mountaines from their natiue seat
She would commaund, themselues to beare away,
And throw in raging sea with roaring threat.
Almightie God her gaue such powre, and puissance great.
The faithfull knight now grew in litle space, xxi
By hearing her, and by her sisters lore,
To such perfection of all heauenly grace,
That wretched world he gan for to abhore,
And mortall life gan loath, as thing forlore,
Greeu’d with remembrance of his wicked wayes,
And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so sore,
That he desirde
[333] to end his wretched dayes:
So much the dart of sinfull guilt the soule dismayes.
But wise Speranza gaue him comfort sweet, xxii
And taught him how to take assured hold
Vpon her siluer anchor, as was meet;
Else had his sinnes so great, and manifold
Made him forget all that Fidelia told.
In this distressed doubtfull agonie,
When him his dearest Vna did behold,
Disdeining life, desiring leaue to die,
She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.
And came to Cœlia to declare her smart, xxiii
Who well acquainted with that commune plight,
Which sinfull horror workes in wounded hart,
Her wisely comforted all that she might,
With goodly counsell and aduisement right;
And streightway sent with carefull diligence,
To fetch a Leach, the which had great insight
In that disease of grieued conscience,
And well could cure the same; His name was Patience.
[Pg 128]
Who comming to that soule-diseased knight, xxiv
Could hardly him intreat, to tell his griefe:
Which knowne, and all that noyd his heauie spright
[334]Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply reliefe
[335]Of salues and med’cines, which had passing priefe,
And thereto added words of wondrous might:
By which to ease he him recured briefe,
And much asswag’d the passion of his plight,
That he his paine endur’d, as seeming now more light.
But yet the cause and root of all his ill, xxv
Inward corruption, and infected sin,
Not purg’d nor heald, behind remained still,
And festring sore did rankle yet within,
Close creeping twixt the marrow and the skin.
Which to extirpe, he laid him priuily
Downe in a darkesome lowly place farre in,
Whereas he meant his corrosiues to apply,
And with streight
[336] diet tame his stubborne malady.
In ashes and sackcloth he did array xxvi
His daintie corse, proud humors to abate,
And dieted with fasting euery day,
The swelling of his wounds to mitigate,
And made him pray both earely and eke late:
And euer as superfluous flesh did rot
Amendment readie still at hand did wayt,
To pluck it out with pincers firie whot,
That soone in him was left no one corrupted iot.
And bitter Penance with an yron whip, xxvii
Was wont him once to disple euery day:
And sharpe Remorse his hart did pricke and nip,
That drops of bloud thence like a well did play;
And sad
Repentance vsed to embay
[337]His bodie in salt water smarting sore,
[338]The filthy blots of sinne to wash away.
So in short space they did to health restore
The man that would not liue, but earst lay at deathes dore.
[Pg 129]
In which his torment often was so great, xxviii
That like a Lyon he would cry and rore,
And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes eat.
His owne deare Vna hearing euermore
His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often tore
Her guiltlesse garments, and her golden heare,
For pitty of his paine and anguish sore;
Yet all with patience wisely she did beare;
For well she wist, his crime could else be neuer cleare.
Whom thus recouer’d by wise Patience, xxix
And trew Repentance they to Vna brought:
Who ioyous of his cured conscience,
Him dearely kist, and fairely eke besought
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 faire Vna brought this vnacquainted guest.
She was a woman in her freshest age, xxx
Of wondrous beauty, and of bountie rare,
With goodly grace and comely personage,
That was on earth not easie to compare;
Full of great loue, but Cupids wanton snare
As hell she hated, chast in worke and will;
Her necke and breasts were euer 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, xxxi
Playing their sports, that ioyd 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 wondrous faire,
[339]Whose passing price vneath was to be told;
And by her side there sate a gentle paire
Of turtle doues, she sitting in an yuorie chaire.
[Pg 130]
The knight and Vna entring, faire her greet, xxxii
And bid her ioy of that her happie brood;
Who them requites with court’sies seeming meet,
And entertaines with friendly chearefull mood.
Then Vna her besought, to be so good,
As in her vertuous rules to schoole her knight,
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.
She was right ioyous of her iust request, xxxiii
And taking by the hand that Faeries sonne,
Gan him instruct in euery good behest,
Of loue, and righteousnesse, 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 fordonne:
In which when him she well instructed hath,
From thence to heauen she teacheth him the ready path.
Wherein his weaker wandring steps to guide, xxxiv
An auncient matrone she to her does call,
Whose sober lookes her wisedome well descride:
Her name was Mercie, well knowne ouer all,
To be both gratious, and eke liberall:
To whom the carefull charge of him she gaue,
To lead aright, that he should neuer fall
In all his wayes through this wide worldes
[340] waue,
That Mercy in the end his righteous soule might saue.
The godly Matrone by the hand him beares xxxv
Forth from her presence, by a narrow way,
Scattred with bushy thornes, and ragged breares,
Which still before him she remou’d away,
That nothing might his ready passage stay:
And euer when his feet encombred were,
Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to stray,
She held him fast, and firmely did vpbeare,
As carefull Nourse her child from falling oft does reare.
[Pg 131]
Eftsoones vnto an holy Hospitall, xxxvi
That was fore by the way, she did him bring,
In which seuen Bead-men that had vowed all
Their life to seruice of high heauens king
Did spend their dayes in doing godly thing:
Their
[341] gates to all were open euermore,
That by the wearie way were traueiling,
And one sate wayting euer them before,
To call in commers-by
[342], that needy were and pore.
The first of them that eldest was, and best, xxxvii
Of all the house had charge and gouernement,
As Guardian and Steward of the rest:
His office was to giue entertainement
And lodging, vnto all that came, and went:
Not vnto such, as could him feast againe,
And double quite, for that he on them spent,
But such, as want of harbour did constraine:
Those for Gods sake his dewty was to entertaine.
The second was as
[343] Almner of the place,
xxxviiiHis office was, the hungry for to feed,
And thristy giue to drinke, a worke of grace:
He feard not once him selfe to be in need,
Ne car’d to hoord for those, whom he did breede:
The grace of God he layd vp still in store,
Which as a stocke he left vnto his seede;
He had enough, what need him care for more?
And had he lesse, yet some he would giue to the pore.
The third had of their wardrobe custodie, xxxix
In which were not rich tyres, nor garments gay,
The plumes of pride, and wings of vanitie,
But clothes
[344] meet to keepe keene could away,
And naked nature seemely to aray;
With which bare wretched wights he dayly clad,
The images of God in earthly clay;
And if that no spare cloths
[345] to giue he had,
His owne coate he would cut, and it distribute glad.
[Pg 132]
The fourth appointed by his office was, xl
Poore prisoners to relieue with gratious ayd,
And captiues to redeeme with price of bras,
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them had stayd;
And though they faultie were, yet well he wayd,
That God to vs forgiueth euery howre
Much more then that, why they in bands were layd,
And he that harrowd hell with heauie stowre,
The faultie soules from thence brought to his heauenly bowre.
The fift had charge sicke persons to attend, xli
And comfort those, in point of death which lay;
For them most needeth comfort in the end,
When sin, and hell, and death do most dismay
The feeble soule departing hence away.
All is but lost, that liuing we bestow,
If not well ended at our dying day.
O man haue mind of that last bitter throw;
For as the tree does fall, so lyes it euer low.
The sixt had charge of them now being dead, xlii
In seemely sort their corses to engraue,
And deck with dainty flowres their bridall bed,
That to their heauenly spouse both sweet and braue
They might appeare, when he their soules shall saue.
The wondrous workemanship of Gods owne mould,
Whose face he made, all beasts to feare, and gaue
All in his hand, euen dead we honour should.
Ah dearest God me graunt, I dead be not defould.
The seuenth now after death and buriall done, xliii
Had charge the tender Orphans of the dead
And widowes ayd, least they should be vndone:
In face of iudgement 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 gaue them euer free.
[Pg 133]
There when the Elfin knight arriued was, xliv
The first and chiefest of the seuen, whose care
Was guests to welcome, towardes him did pas:
Where seeing Mercie, that his steps vp bare,
And alwayes led, to her with reuerence 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 founderesse.
There she awhile him stayes, him selfe to rest, xlv
That to the rest more able he might bee:
During which time, in euery good behest
And godly worke of Almes and charitee
She him instructed with great industree;
Shortly therein so perfect he became,
That from the first vnto the last degree,
His mortall life he learned had to frame
In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or blame.
Thence forward by that painfull way they pas, xlvi
Forth to an hill, that was both steepe and hy;
On top whereof a sacred chappell was,
And eke a litle Hermitage thereby,
Wherein an aged holy man did lye,
That day and night said his deuotion,
Ne other worldly busines did apply;
His name was heauenly Contemplation;
Of God and goodnesse was his meditation.
Great grace that old man to him giuen had; xlvii
For God he often saw from heauens hight,
All were his earthly eyen both blunt and bad,
And through great age had lost their kindly sight,
Yet wondrous quick and persant was his spright,
As Eagles eye, that can behold the Sunne:
That hill they scale with all their powre and might,
That his frayle thighes nigh wearie and fordonne
Gan faile, but by her helpe the top at last he wonne.
[Pg 134]
There they do finde that godly aged Sire, xlviii
With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed,
As hoarie frost with spangles doth attire
The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.
Each bone might through his body well be red,
And euery sinew seene through his long fast:
For nought he car’d his carcas long vnfed;
His mind was full of spirituall repast,
And pyn’d his flesh, to keepe his body low and chast.
Who when these two approching he aspide xlix
At their first presence grew agrieued sore,
That forst him lay his heauenly thoughts aside;
And had he not that Dame respected more,
Whom highly he did reuerence and adore,
He would not once haue moued 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 height.
What end (quoth she
[346]) should cause vs take such paine,
lBut that same end, which euery liuing wight
Should make his marke, high heauen to attaine?
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth right
To that most glorious house, that glistreth bright
With burning starres, and euerliuing fire,
Whereof the keyes are to thy hand behight
By wise Fidelia? she doth thee require,
To shew it to this knight, according his desire.
Thrise happy man, said then the father graue, li
Whose staggering steps thy steady hand doth lead,
And shewes the way, his sinfull soule to saue.
Who better can the way to heauen aread,
Then thou thy selfe, that was both borne and bred
In heauenly throne, where thousand Angels shine?
Thou doest the prayers of the righteous sead
Present before the maiestie diuine,
And his auenging wrath to clemencie incline.
[Pg 135]
Yet since
[347] thou bidst, thy pleasure shalbe donne.
liiThen come thou man of earth, and see the way,
That neuer yet was seene of Faeries sonne,
That neuer leads the traueiler astray,
But after labours long, and sad delay,
Brings
[348] them to ioyous rest and endlesse blis.
But first thou must a season fast and pray,
Till from her bands the spright assoiled is,
And haue her strength recur’d from fraile infirmitis.
That done, he leads him to the highest Mount; liii
Such one, as that same mighty man of God,
That bloud-red billowes like a walled front
On either side disparted with his rod,
Till that his army dry-foot through them yod,
Dwelt fortie dayes vpon; where writ in stone
With bloudy letters by the hand of God,
The bitter doome of death and balefull mone
He did receiue, whiles flashing fire about him shone.
Or like that sacred hill, whose head full hie, liv
Adornd with fruitfull Oliues all arownd,
Is, as it were for endlesse memory
Of that deare Lord, who oft thereon was fownd,
For euer with a flowring girlond crownd:
Or like that pleasaunt Mount, that is for ay
Through famous Poets verse each where renownd,
On which the thrise three learned Ladies play
Their heauenly notes, and make full many a louely lay.
From thence, far off he vnto him did shew lv
A litle path, that was both steepe and long,
Which to a goodly Citie 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 Citie of the great king hight it well,
Wherein eternall peace and happinesse doth dwell.
[Pg 136]
As he thereon stood gazing, he might see lvi
The blessed Angels to and fro descend
From highest heauen, in gladsome companee,
And with great ioy into that Citie wend,
As commonly as friend does with his frend.
Whereat he wondred much, and gan enquere,
What stately building durst so high extend
Her loftie towres vnto the starry sphere,
And what vnknowen nation there empeopled were.
Faire knight (quoth he) Hierusalem that is, lvii
The new Hierusalem, that God has built
For those to dwell in, that are chosen his,
His chosen people purg’d from sinfull guilt,
With pretious
[349] bloud, which cruelly was spilt
On cursed tree, of that vnspotted lam,
That for the sinnes of all the world was kilt:
Now are they Saints all in that Citie sam,
More deare vnto their God, then younglings to their dam.
Till now, said then the knight, I weened well, lviii
That great Cleopolis, where I haue beene,
In which that fairest
Faerie Queene doth dwell,
[350]The fairest Citie was, that might be seene;
And that bright towre all built of christall cleene,
Panthea, seemd the brightest thing, that was:
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene;
For this great Citie that does far surpas,
And this bright Angels towre quite dims that towre of glas.
Most trew, then said the holy aged man; lix
Yet is
Cleopolis for earthly frame
[351],
The fairest peece, that eye beholden can:
And well beseemes all knights of noble name,
That couet in th’immortall booke of fame
To be eternized, that same to haunt,
And doen their seruice to that soueraigne Dame,
That glorie does to them for guerdon graunt:
For she is heauenly borne, and heauen may iustly vaunt.
[Pg 137]
And thou faire ymp, sprong out from English race, lx
How euer now accompted
[352] Elfins sonne,
Well worthy doest thy seruice for her grace,
To aide a virgin desolate foredonne.
But when thou famous victorie hast wonne,
And high emongst all knights hast hong thy shield,
Thenceforth the suit of earthly conquest shonne,
And wash thy hands from guilt of bloudy field:
For bloud can nought but sin, and wars but sorrowes yield.
Then seeke this path, that I to thee presage, lxi
Which after all to heauen shall thee send;
Then peaceably thy
[353] painefull pilgrimage
To yonder same Hierusalem do bend,
Where is for thee ordaind a blessed end:
For thou emongst those Saints, whom thou doest see,
Shalt be a Saint, and thine owne nations frend
And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt called bee,
Saint George of mery England, the signe of victoree.
Vnworthy wretch (quoth he) of so great grace, lxii
How dare I thinke such glory to attaine?
These that haue it attaind, were in like cace
(Quoth he) as wretched, and liu’d in like paine.
[354]But deeds of armes must I at last be faine,
And Ladies loue to leaue so dearely bought?
What need of armes, where peace doth ay remaine,
(Said he) and battailes none are to be fought?
[355]As for loose loues are vaine,
[356] and vanish into nought.
O let me not (quoth he) then turne
[357] againe
lxiiiBacke to the world, whose ioyes so fruitlesse are;
But let me here for aye in peace remaine,
Or streight way on that last long voyage fare,
That nothing may my present hope empare.
That may not be (said he) ne maist thou yit
Forgo that royall maides bequeathed care,
Who did her cause into thy hand commit,
Till from her cursed foe thou haue her freely quit.
[Pg 138]
Then shall I soone, (quoth he) so God me grace, lxiv
Abet that virgins cause disconsolate,
And shortly backe returne vnto this place,
To walke this 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 nominate?
[358]That word shall I (said he) auouchen good,
Sith to thee is vnknowne the cradle of thy brood.
For well I wote, thou springst from ancient race lxv
Of Saxon kings, that haue with mightie hand
And many bloudie battailes fought in place
[359]High reard their royall throne in
Britane[360] land,
And vanquisht them, vnable to withstand:
From thence a Faerie thee vnweeting reft,
There as thou slepst in tender swadling band,
And her base Elfin brood there for thee left.
Such men do Chaungelings call, so chaungd by Faeries theft.
Thence she thee brought into this Faerie lond, lxvi
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde,
Where thee a Ploughman all vnweeting fond,
As he his toylesome teme that way did guyde,
And brought thee vp in ploughmans state to byde,
Whereof Georgos he thee gaue to name;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,
To Faery court thou cam’st to seeke for fame,
And proue thy puissaunt armes, as seemes thee best became.
O holy Sire (quoth he) how shall I quight lxvii
The many fauours I with thee haue found,
That hast my name and nation red aright,
And taught the way that does to heauen bound?
This said, adowne he looked to the ground,
To haue returnd, but dazed were his eyne,
Through passing brightnesse, which did quite confound
His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne.
So darke are earthly things compard to things diuine.
[Pg 139]
At last whenas himselfe he gan to find, lxviii
To Vna back he cast him to retire;
Who him awaited still with pensiue mind.
Great thankes and goodly meed to that good syre,
He thence departing gaue for his paines hyre.
So came to Vna, who him ioyd to see,
And after litle rest, gan him desire,
Of her aduenture mindfull for to bee.
So leaue they take of Cœlia, and her daughters three.
The knight with that old Dragon fights
two dayes incessantly:
The third him ouerthrowes, and gayns
most glorious victory.
High time now gan it wex for
Vna faire
[361],
iTo thinke of those her captiue Parents deare,
And their forwasted kingdome to repaire:
Whereto whenas they now approched neare,
With hartie words her knight she gan to cheare,
And in her modest manner thus bespake;
Deare knight, as deare, as euer knight was deare,
That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake,
High heauen behold the tedious toyle, ye for me take.
Now are we come vnto my natiue soyle, ii
And to the place, where all our perils dwell;
Here haunts that feend, and does his dayly spoyle,
Therefore henceforth be at
[362] your keeping well,
And euer ready for your foeman fell.
The sparke of noble courage now awake,
And striue your excellent selfe to excell;
That shall ye euermore renowmed make,
Aboue all knights on earth, that batteill vndertake.
[Pg 140]
And pointing forth, lo yonder is (said she) iii
[363]The brasen towre in which my parents deare
For dread of that huge feend emprisond be,
[364]Whom I from far
[365] see on the walles 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
Vnto you bring, to ease you of your misery.
With that they heard a roaring hideous sound, iv
That all the ayre with terrour filled wide,
And seemd vneath to shake the stedfast ground.
Eftsoones that dreadfull Dragon they espide,
Where stretcht
[366] he lay vpon the sunny side
[367]Of a great hill, himselfe like a great hill.
But all so soone, as he from far descride
Those glistring armes, that heauen with light did fill,
He rousd himselfe full blith, and hastned them vntill.
Then bad the knight his
[368] Lady yede aloofe,
vAnd to an hill her selfe with draw aside,
From whence she might behold that battailles proof
And eke be safe from daunger far descryde:
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde.
Now O thou sacred Muse, most learned Dame,
Faire ympe of Phœbus and his aged bride,
The Nourse of time, and euerlasting fame,
That warlike hands ennoblest with immortall name;
O gently come into my feeble brest, vi
Come gently, but not with that mighty rage,
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest infest,
And harts of great Heroës doest enrage,
That nought their kindled courage may aswage,
[369]Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to sownd;
[370]The God of warre with his fiers equipage
Thou doest awake, sleepe neuer he so sownd,
And scared
[371] nations doest with horrour sterne astownd.
[Pg 141]
Faire Goddesse lay that furious fit aside, vii
Till I of warres and bloudy Mars do sing,
And Briton fields with Sarazin bloud bedyde,
Twixt that great faery Queene and Paynim king,
That with their horrour heauen and earth did ring,
A worke of labour long, and endlesse prayse:
But now a while let downe that haughtie string,
And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse,
That I this man of God his godly armes may blaze.
By this the dreadfull Beast drew nigh to hand, viii
Halfe flying, and halfe footing in his hast,
That with his largenesse measured much land,
And made wide shadow vnder his huge wast;
As mountaine doth the valley ouercast.
Approching nigh, he reared high afore
His body monstrous, horrible, and vast
[372],
Which to increase his wondrous greatnesse more,
Was swolne with wrath, and poyson, and with bloudy gore.
And ouer, all with brasen scales was armd, ix
Like plated coate of steele, so couched neare,
That nought mote perce, ne might his corse be harmd
With dint of sword
[373], nor push of pointed speare;
Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare,
His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely dight,
So shaked he, that horrour was to heare,
For as the clashing of an Armour bright,
Such noyse his rouzed scales did send vnto the knight.
His flaggy wings when forth he did display, x
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,
[374]Were like mayne-yards, with flying canuas lynd
[375],
With which whenas him list the ayre to beat,
And there by force vnwonted passage find,
The cloudes before him fled for terrour great,
And all the heauens stood still amazed with his threat.
[Pg 142]
His huge long tayle wound vp in hundred foldes, xi
Does ouerspred his long bras-scaly backe,
Whose wreathed boughts when euer he vnfoldes,
And thicke entangled knots adown does slacke,
[376]Bespotted as
[377] with shields 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 stings in-fixed arre,
Both deadly sharpe, that sharpest steele exceeden farre.
But stings and sharpest steele did far exceed xii
The sharpnesse of his cruell rending clawes;
Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed,
What euer thing does touch his rauenous pawes,
Or what within his reach he euer drawes.
But his most hideous head my toung to tell
[378]Does tremble: for his deepe deuouring iawes
Wide gaped, like the griesly mouth of hell,
Through which into his darke abisse all rauin fell.
And that more wondrous was, in either iaw xiii
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged were,
In which yet trickling bloud and gobbets raw
Of late deuoured bodies did appeare,
That sight thereof bred cold congealed feare:
Which to increase, and all atonce to kill,
A cloud of smoothering smoke and sulphur 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 shining shields, xiv
Did burne with wrath, and sparkled liuing fyre;
As two broad Beacons, set in open fields,
Send forth their flames farre off to euery shyre,
And warning giue, that enemies conspyre,
With fire and sword the region to inuade;
So flam’d his eyne with rage and rancorous yre:
But farre within, as in a hollow glade,
Those glaring lampes were set, that made a dreadfull shade.
[Pg 143]
So dreadfully he towards him did pas, xv
Forelifting vp aloft his speckled brest,
And often bounding on the brused gras,
As for great ioyance of his newcome guest.
Eftsoones he gan aduance his haughtie crest,
As chauffed Bore his bristles doth vpreare,
And shoke his scales to battell readie drest;
That made the Redcrosse knight nigh quake for feare,
As bidding bold defiance to his foeman neare.
The knight gan fairely couch his steadie speare, xvi
And fiercely ran at him with rigorous might:
The pointed steele arriuing rudely theare,
His harder hide would neither perce, nor bight,
But glauncing by forth passed forward right;
Yet sore amoued with so puissant push,
The 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.
Both horse and man vp lightly rose againe, xvii
And fresh encounter towards him addrest:
But th’idle stroke yet backe recoyld in vaine,
And found no place his deadly point to rest.
Exceeding rage enflam’d the furious beast,
To be auenged of so great despight;
For neuer felt his imperceable brest
So wondrous force, from hand of liuing wight;
Yet had he prou’d the powre of many a puissant knight.
Then with his wauing wings displayed wyde, xviii
Himselfe vp high he lifted from the ground,
And with strong flight did forcibly diuide
The yielding aire, which nigh too feeble found
Her flitting partes, and element vnsound,
To beare so great a weight: he cutting way
With his broad sayles, about him soared round:
At last low stouping with vnweldie sway,
Snatcht vp both horse and man, to beare them quite away.
[Pg 144]
Long he them bore aboue the subiect plaine, xix
So farre as Ewghen bow a shaft may send,
Till struggling strong did him at last constraine,
To let them downe before his flightes end:
As hagard hauke presuming to contend
With hardie fowle, aboue his hable might,
His wearie pounces all in vaine doth spend,
To trusse the pray too heauie for his flight;
Which comming downe to ground, does free it selfe by fight.
He so disseized of his gryping grosse, xx
The knight his thrillant speare againe assayd
In his bras-plated body to embosse,
And three mens strength vnto the stroke he layd;
Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked, as affrayd,
And glauncing from his scaly necke, did glyde
Close vnder his left wing, then broad displayd.
The percing steele there wrought a wound full wyde,
That with the vncouth smart the Monster lowdly cryde.
He cryde, as raging seas are wont to rore, xxi
When wintry storme his wrathfull wreck does threat,
The rolling billowes beat the ragged shore,
As they the earth would shoulder from her seat,
And greedie gulfe does gape, as he would eat
His neighbour element in his reuenge:
Then gin the blustring brethren boldly threat,
To moue the world from off his stedfast henge,
And boystrous battell make, each other to auenge.
The steely head stucke fast still in his flesh, xxii
Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the wood,
And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed fresh
A gushing riuer of blacke goarie blood,
That drowned all the land, whereon he stood;
The streame thereof would driue a water-mill.
Trebly augmented was his furious mood
With bitter sense of his deepe rooted ill,
That flames of fire he threw forth from his large nosethrill.
[Pg 145]
His hideous tayle then hurled he about, xxiii
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble thyes
Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage stout
Striuing to loose the knot, that fast him tyes,
Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash implyes,
That to the ground he is perforce constraynd
To throw his rider: who can quickly ryse
From off
[379] the earth, with durty bloud distaynd,
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he disdaynd.
And fiercely tooke his trenchand blade in hand, xxiv
With which he stroke so furious and so fell,
That nothing seemd the puissance could withstand:
Vpon 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 when he saw them come, he did them still forsake.
The knight was wrath
[380] to see his stroke beguyld,
xxvAnd smote againe with more outrageous might;
But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld,
And left not any marke, where it did light;
As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight.
The beast impatient of his smarting wound,
And of so fierce and forcible despight,
Thought with his wings to stye aboue the ground;
But his late wounded wing vnseruiceable found.
Then full of griefe and anguish vehement, xxvi
He lowdly brayd, that like was neuer heard,
And from his wide deuouring ouen sent
A flake of fire, that flashing in his beard,
Him all amazd, and almost made affeard:
The scorching flame sore swinged
[381] all his face,
And through his armour all his bodie seard,
That he could not endure so cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leaue, and helmet to vnlace.
[Pg 146]
Not that great Champion of the antique world, xxvii
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt
[382],
And hath for twelue huge labours high extold,
So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poysoned garment did enchaunt
With Centaures bloud, and bloudie verses charm’d,
As did this knight twelue thousand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm’d,
That erst him goodly arm’d, now most of all him harm’d.
Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieued, brent xxviii
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire
That neuer man such mischiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft desire,
But death will neuer come, when needes require.
Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
He cast to suffer him no more respire,
But gan his sturdie sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.
It fortuned (as faire it then befell) xxix
Behind his backe vnweeting, where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a springing well,
From which fast trickled forth a siluer flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
That happie land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld those sacred waues, it rightly hot
The well of life, ne yet his vertues had forgot.
For vnto life the dead it could restore, xxx
And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
Those that with sicknesse were infected sore,
It could recure, and aged long decay
Renew, as one
[383] were borne that very day.
Both Silo this, and Iordan did excell,
And th’English Bath, and eke the german Spau,
Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus match this well:
Into the same the knight backe ouerthrowen, fell.
[Pg 147]
Now gan the golden Phœbus for to steepe xxxi
His fierie face in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their iournall labours they did rest,
When that infernall Monster, hauing kest
His wearie foe into that liuing well,
Can high aduance his broad discoloured brest,
Aboue his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.
Which when his pensiue Ladie saw from farre, xxxii
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 chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent
All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.
The morrow next gan early to appeare, xxxiii
That Titan rose to runne his daily race;
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,
Vp rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loued knight to moue his manly pace:
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.
At last she saw, where he vpstarted braue xxxiv
Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay;
As Eagle fresh out of the Ocean waue,
Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray,
And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay,
Like Eyas hauke vp mounts vnto the skies,
His newly budded pineons to assay,
And marueiles
[384] at himselfe, still as he flies:
So new this new-borne knight to battell new did rise.
[Pg 148]
Whom when the damned feend so fresh did spy, xxxv
No wonder if he wondred at the sight,
And doubted, whether his late enemy
It were, or other new supplied knight.
He, now to proue his late renewed might,
High brandishing his bright deaw-burning blade,
Vpon his crested scalpe so sore did smite,
That to the scull a yawning wound it made:
The deadly dint his dulled senses all dismaid.
I wote not, whether the reuenging steele xxxvi
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;
Else neuer could the force of fleshly arme,
Ne molten mettall in his bloud embrew:
For till that stownd could neuer wight him harme,
By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor mighty charme.
The cruell wound enraged him so sore, xxxvii
That loud he yelded
[385] for exceeding paine;
As hundred ramping Lyons seem’d to rore,
Whom rauenous hunger did thereto constraine:
Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched traine,
And therewith scourge the buxome aire so sore,
That to his force to yeelden it was faine;
Ne ought his sturdie strokes might stand afore,
That high trees ouerthrew, and rocks in peeces tore.
The same aduauncing high aboue his head, xxxviii
With sharpe intended sting so rude him smot,
That to the earth him droue, as stricken dead,
Ne liuing wight would haue him life behot:
The mortall sting his angry needle shot
Quite through his shield, and in his shoulder seasd,
Where fast it stucke, ne would there out be got:
The griefe thereof him wondrous sore diseasd,
Ne might his ranckling paine with patience be appeasd.
[Pg 149]
But yet more mindfull of his honour deare, xxxix
Then of the grieuous smart, which him did wring,
From loathed soile he can him lightly reare,
And stroue to loose the farre infixed sting
[386]:
Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,
Inflam’d with wrath, his raging blade he heft,
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty string
[387]Of his huge taile he quite a sunder
[388] cleft,
Fiue ioynts thereof he hewd, and but the stump him left.
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cryes, xl
With foule enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,
The hell-bred beast threw forth vnto the skyes,
That all was couered with darknesse dire:
Then fraught with rancour, and engorged ire,
He cast at once him to auenge for all,
And gathering vp himselfe out of the mire,
With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall
[389]Vpon his sunne-bright shield, and gript it fast withall.
Much was the man encombred with his hold, xli
In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,
Ne wist yet, how his talants to vnfold;
Nor
[390] harder was from
Cerberus greedie iaw
To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw
To reaue by strength
[391] the griped gage away:
Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw,
And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,
It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.
Tho when he saw no power might preuaile, xlii
His trustie sword he cald to his last aid,
Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile,
And double blowes about him stoutly laid,
That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;
As sparckles from the Anduile vse to fly,
When heauie hammers on the wedge are swaid;
Therewith at last he forst him to vnty
One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.
[Pg 150]
The other foot, fast fixed on his shield,
[392] xliiiWhenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield,
He smot thereat with all his might and maine,
That nought so wondrous puissance might sustaine;
Vpon the ioynt the lucky steele did light,
And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine;
The paw yet missed not his minisht might,
But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.
For griefe thereof, and diuelish despight, xliv
From his infernall fournace forth he threw
Huge flames, that dimmed all the heauens light,
Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew;
As burning Aetna from his boyling stew
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke,
And ragged ribs of mountaines molten new,
Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke,
That all the land with stench, and heauen with horror choke.
The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence xlv
So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire
A little backward for his best defence,
To saue his bodie from the scorching fire,
Which he from hellish entrailes did expire.
It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide)
As he recoyled backward, in the mire
His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide,
And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide.
There grew a goodly tree him faire beside, xlvi
Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red,
As they in pure vermilion had beene dide,
Whereof great vertues ouer all were red:
For happie life to all, which thereon fed,
And life eke euerlasting did befall:
Great God it planted in that blessed sted
With his almightie hand, and did it call
The tree of life,
[393] the crime of our first fathers fall.
[Pg 151]
In all the world like was not to be found, xlvii
Saue in that soile, where all good things did grow,
And freely sprong out of the fruitfull ground,
As incorrupted Nature did them sow,
Till that dread Dragon all did ouerthrow.
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby,
Whereof who so did eat, eftsoones did know
Both good and ill: O mornefull memory:
That tree through one mans fault hath doen vs all to dy.
From that first tree forth flowd, as from a well, xlviii
A trickling streame of Balme, most soueraine
And daintie deare, which on the ground still fell,
And ouerflowed all the fertill plaine,
As it had deawed bene with timely raine:
Life and long health that gratious ointment gaue,
And deadly woundes could heale,
[394] and reare againe
The senselesse corse appointed for the graue.
Into that same he fell: which did from death him saue.
For nigh thereto the euer damned beast xlix
Durst not approch, for he was deadly made,
And all that life preserued, did detest:
Yet he it oft aduentur’d to inuade.
By this the drouping day-light gan to fade,
And yeeld his roome
[395] to sad succeeding night,
Who with her sable mantle gan to shade
The face of earth, and wayes of liuing wight,
And high her burning torch set vp in heauen bright.
When gentle Vna saw the second fall l
Of her deare knight, who wearie of long fight,
And faint through losse of bloud, mou’d not at all,
But lay as in a dreame of deepe delight,
Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose vertuous might
Did heale his wounds, and scorching heat alay,
Againe she stricken was with sore affright,
And for his safetie gan deuoutly pray;
And watch the noyous night, and wait for ioyous day.
[Pg 152]
The ioyous day gan early to appeare, li
And faire
Aurora from the
[396] deawy bed
Of aged Tithone gan her selfe to reare,
With rosie cheekes, for shame as blushing red;
Her golden lockes for haste were loosely shed
About her eares, when Vna her did marke
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers spred,
[397]From heauen high to chase the chearelesse darke;
[398]With merry note her loud salutes the mounting larke.
Then freshly vp arose the doughtie knight, lii
All healed of his hurts and woundes
[399] wide,
And did himselfe to battell readie dight;
Whose early foe awaiting him beside
To haue deuourd, so soone as day he spyde,
When now he saw himselfe so freshly reare,
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde,
He woxe dismayd, and gan his fate to feare;
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him aduaunced neare.
And in his first encounter, gaping wide, liii
He thought attonce him to haue swallowd quight,
And rusht vpon him with outragious pride;
Who him r’encountring fierce, as hauke in flight,
Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon bright
Taking aduantage of his open iaw,
Ran through his mouth with so importune might,
That deepe emperst his darksome hollow maw,
And back retyrd, his life bloud forth with all did draw.
So downe he fell, and forth his life did breath, liv
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes swift;
So downe he fell, that th’earth him vnderneath
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift;
So downe he fell, as an huge rockie clift,
Whose false foundation waues haue washt away,
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayneland rift,
And rolling downe, great Neptune doth dismay;
So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay.
[Pg 153]
The knight himselfe euen trembled at his fall, lv
So huge and horrible a masse it seem’d;
And his deare Ladie, that beheld it all,
Durst not approch for dread, which she misdeem’d,
But yet at last, when as the direfull feend
She saw not stirre, off-shaking vaine affright,
She nigher drew, and saw that ioyous end:
Then God she praysd, and thankt her faithfull knight,
That had atchieu’d so great a conquest by his might.
Faire Vna to the Redcrosse knight
betrouthed is with ioy:
Though false Duessa it to barre
her false sleights doe imploy.
Behold I see the hauen nigh at hand, i
To which I meane my wearie course to bend;
Vere the maine shete, and beare vp with the land,
The which afore is fairely to be kend,
And seemeth safe from stormes, that may offend;
There this faire virgin wearie of her way
Must landed be, now at her iourneyes end:
There eke my feeble barke a while may stay,
Till merry wind and weather call her thence away.
Scarsely had Phœbus in the glooming East ii
Yet harnessed his firie-footed teeme,
Ne reard aboue the earth his flaming creast,
When the last deadly smoke aloft did steeme,
That signe of last outbreathed life did seeme
[400]Vnto the watchman on the castle wall;
Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did deeme,
And to his Lord and Ladie lowd gan call,
To tell, how he had seene the Dragons fatall fall.
[401]
[Pg 154]
Vprose with hastie ioy, and feeble speed iii
That aged Sire, the Lord of all that land,
And looked forth, to weet, if true indeede
Those tydings were, as he did vnderstand,
Which whenas true by tryall he out fond
[402],
He bad to open wyde his brazen gate,
Which long time had bene shut, and out of hond
Proclaymed ioy and peace through all his state;
For dead now was their foe, which them forrayed late.
Then gan triumphant Trompets sound on hie, iv
That sent to heauen the ecchoed report
Of their new ioy, and happie victorie
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,
Reioycing at the fall of that great beast,
From whose eternall bondage now they were releast.
Forth came that auncient Lord and aged Queene, v
Arayd in antique robes downe to the ground,
And sad habiliments right well beseene;
A noble crew about them waited round
Of sage and sober Peres, all grauely gownd;
Whom farre before did march a goodly band
Of tall young men, all hable armes to sownd,
But now they laurell braunches bore in hand;
Glad signe of victorie and peace in all their land.
Vnto that doughtie Conquerour they came, vi
And him before themselues prostrating low,
Their Lord and Patrone loud did him proclame,
And at his feet their laurell 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 do grow,
When morning deaw vpon their leaues doth light:
And in their hands sweet Timbrels all vpheld on hight.
[Pg 155]
And them before, the fry of children young vii
Their wanton sports and childish mirth did play,
And to the Maydens sounding tymbrels
[403] sung
In well attuned notes, a ioyous lay,
And made delightfull musicke all the way,
Vntill they came, where that faire virgin stood;
As faire
Diana in fresh sommers day
[404]Beholds her Nymphes, enraung’d in shadie wood,
Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood.
So she beheld those maydens meriment viii
With chearefull vew; who when to her they came,
Themselues to ground with gratious
[405] humblesse bent,
And her ador’d by honorable name,
Lifting to heauen her euerlasting fame:
Then on her head they set a girland greene,
And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt game;
Who in her selfe-resemblance well beseene,
Did seeme such, as she was, a goodly maiden Queene.
And after,
[406] all the raskall many ran,
ixHeaped together in rude rablement,
To see the face of that victorious man:
Whom all admired, as from heauen sent,
And gazd vpon with gaping wonderment.
But when they came, where that dead Dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large extent,
The sight with idle feare did them dismay,
Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.
Some feard, and fled; some feard and well it faynd; x
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 Dragonets, his fruitfull seed;
Another said, that in his eyes did rest
Yet sparckling fire, and bad thereof take heed;
Another said, he saw him moue his eyes indeed.
[Pg 156]
One mother, when as
[407] her foolehardie chyld
xiDid come too
[408] neare, and with his talants play,
Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe reuyld,
And to her gossips
[409] gan in counsell say;
How can I tell, but that his talants
[410] may
Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender hand?
So diuersly themselues in vaine they fray;
Whiles some more bold, to measure him nigh stand,
To proue how many acres he did spread of land.
Thus flocked all the folke him round about, xii
The whiles that hoarie king, with all his traine,
Being arriued, where that champion stout
After his foes defeasance did remaine,
Him goodly greetes, and faire does entertaine,
With princely gifts of yuorie and gold,
And thousand thankes him yeelds for all his paine.
Then when his daughter deare he does behold,
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth manifold.
And after to his Pallace he them brings, xiii
With shaumes, and trompets, and with Clarions sweet;
And all the way the ioyous people sings,
And with their garments strowes the paued street:
Whence mounting vp, they find purueyance meet
Of all, that royall Princes court became,
And all the floore was vnderneath their feet
Bespred with costly scarlot of great name,
On which they lowly sit, and fitting purpose frame.
What needs me tell their feast and goodly guize, xiv
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine?
What needs of daintie dishes to deuize,
Of comely seruices, or courtly trayne
[411]?
My narrow leaues cannot in them containe
The large discourse of royall Princes state.
Yet was their manner then but bare and plaine:
For th’antique world excesse and pride did hate;
Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen vp but late.
[Pg 157]
Then when with meates and drinkes of euery kinde xv
Their feruent appetites they quenched had,
That auncient Lord gan fit occasion finde,
Of straunge aduentures, and of perils sad,
Which in his trauell him befallen had,
For to demaund of his renowmed guest:
Who then with vtt’rance graue, and count’nance sad,
From point to point, as is before exprest,
Discourst his voyage long, according his request.
Great pleasure
[412] mixt with pittifull regard,
xviThat godly King and Queene did passionate,
Whiles they his pittifull aduentures 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 neuer gentle knight, as he of late,
So tossed was in fortunes cruell freakes;
And all the while salt teares bedeawd the hearers cheaks.
Then said that
[413] royall Pere in sober wise;
xviiDeare Sonne, great beene the euils, which ye bore
From first to last in your late enterprise,
That I note, whether prayse, or pitty more:
For neuer liuing man, I weene, so sore
In sea of deadly daungers was distrest;
But since
[414] now safe ye seised haue the shore,
And well arriued are, (high God be blest)
Let vs deuize of ease and euerlasting rest.
Ah dearest Lord, said then that doughty knight, xviii
Of ease or rest I may not yet deuize;
For by the faith, which I to armes haue plight,
I bounden am streight after this emprize,
As that your daughter can ye well aduize,
Backe to returne to that great Faerie Queene,
And her to serue six yeares in warlike wize,
Gainst that proud Paynim
[415] king, that workes her teene:
Therefore I ought craue pardon, till I there haue beene.
[Pg 158]
Vnhappie falles that hard necessitie, xix
(Quoth he) the troubler of my happie peace,
And vowed foe of my felicitie;
Ne I against the same can iustly preace:
But since
[416] that band ye cannot now release,
Nor doen vndo; (for vowes may not be vaine)
Soone as the terme of those six yeares shall cease,
Ye then shall hither backe returne againe,
The marriage to accomplish vowd betwixt you twain.
Which for my part I couet to performe, xx
In sort as through the world I did proclame,
That who so kild that monster most deforme,
And him in hardy battaile ouercame,
Should haue mine onely daughter to his Dame,
And of my kingdome heire apparaunt bee:
Therefore since
[417] now to thee perteines the same,
By dew desert of noble cheualree,
Both daughter and eke kingdome, lo I yield to thee.
Then forth he called that his daughter faire, xxi
The fairest Vn’ his onely daughter deare,
His onely daughter, and his onely heyre;
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
[418] dawning day is drawing
[419] neare,
And to the world does bring long wished light;
So faire and fresh that Lady shewd her selfe in sight.
So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May; xxii
For she had layd her mournefull stole aside,
And widow-like sad wimple throwne away,
Wherewith her heauenly
[420] beautie she did hide,
Whiles on her wearie iourney she did ride;
And on her now a garment she did weare,
All lilly white, withoutten spot, or pride,
That seemd like silke and siluer wouen neare,
But neither silke nor siluer therein did appeare.
[Pg 159]
The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, xxiii
And glorious light of her sunshyny face
To tell, were as to striue against the streame.
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
Her heauenly lineaments for to enchace.
Ne wonder; for her owne deare loued knight,
All were she dayly with himselfe in place,
Did wonder much at her celestiall sight:
Oft had he seene her faire, but neuer so faire dight.
So fairely dight, when she in presence came, xxiv
She to her Sire made humble reuerence,
And bowed low, that her right well became,
And added grace vnto her excellence:
Who with great wisedome, and graue eloquence
Thus gan to say. But eare he thus had said,
With flying speede, and seeming great pretence,
Came running in, much like a man dismaid,
A Messenger with letters, which his message said.
All in the open hall amazed stood, xxv
At suddeinnesse of that vnwarie sight,
And wondred at his breathlesse hastie mood.
But he for nought would stay his passage right,
Till 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 hands that writ he did betake,
Which he disclosing, red thus, as the paper spake.
To thee, most mighty king of Eden faire, xxvi
Her greeting sends in these sad lines addrest,
The wofull daughter, and forsaken heire
Of that great Emperour of all the West;
And bids thee be aduized for the best,
Ere thou thy daughter linck in holy band
Of wedlocke to that new vnknowen guest:
For he already plighted his right hand
Vnto another loue, and to another land.
[Pg 160]
To me sad mayd, or rather widow sad, xxvii
He was affiaunced long time before,
And sacred pledges he both gaue, and had,
False erraunt knight, infamous, and forswore:
Witnesse the burning Altars, which he swore,
And guiltie heauens of his bold periury,
Which though he hath polluted oft of
[421] yore,
Yet I to them for Judgement iust do fly,
And them coniure t’auenge this shamefull iniury.
Therefore since
[422] mine he is, or free or bond,
xxviiiOr false or trew, or liuing or else dead,
Withhold, O soueraine Prince, your hasty hond
From knitting league with him, I you aread;
Ne weene my right with strength adowne to tread,
Through weakenesse of my widowhed, or woe:
For truth is strong, her
[423] rightfull cause to plead,
And shall find friends, if need requireth soe,
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither friend, nor foe, Fidessa.
When he these bitter byting words had red, xxix
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 solemne silence thus he brake,
With doubtfull eyes fast fixed on his guest;
Redoubted knight, that for mine onely sake
Thy life and honour late aduenturest,
Let nought be hid from me, that ought to be exprest.
What meane these bloudy vowes, and idle threats, xxx
Throwne out from womanish impatient mind?
What heauens? what altars? what enraged heates
Here heaped vp with termes of loue vnkind,
My conscience cleare with guilty bands would bind?
High God be witnesse, that I guiltlesse ame.
But if your selfe, Sir knight, ye faultie find,
Or wrapped be in loues of former Dame,
With crime do not it couer, but disclose the same.
[Pg 161]
To whom the Redcrosse knight this answere sent, xxxi
My Lord, my King, be nought hereat dismayd,
Till well ye wote by graue intendiment,
What woman, and wherefore doth me vpbrayd
With breach of loue, and loyalty betrayd.
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward
I lately traueild, that vnwares I strayd
[424]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 found xxxii
Of this false woman, that Fidessa hight,
Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on ground,
Most false Duessa, royall richly dight,
That easie was t’
[425] inuegle weaker sight:
Who by her wicked arts, and wylie skill,
Too false and strong for earthly skill or might,
Vnwares me wrought vnto her wicked will,
And to my foe betrayd, when least I feared ill.
Then stepped forth the goodly royall Mayd, xxxiii
And on the ground her selfe prostrating low,
With sober countenaunce thus to him sayd;
O pardon me, my soueraigne Lord, to show
The secret treasons, which of late I know
To haue bene wroght by that false sorceresse.
She onely she it is, that earst did throw
This gentle knight into so great distresse,
That death him did awaite in dayly wretchednesse.
And now it seemes, that she suborned hath xxxiv
This craftie messenger with letters vaine
[426],
To worke new woe and improuided scath,
By breaking of the band betwixt vs twaine;
Wherein she vsed hath the practicke paine
Of this false footman, clokt with simplenesse,
Whom if ye please for to discouer plaine,
Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse,
The falsest man aliue; who
[427] tries shall find no lesse.
[Pg 162]
The king was greatly moued at her speach, xxxv
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 faitor false, and bound him strait:
Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band,
As chained Beare, whom cruell dogs do bait,
With idle force did faine them to withstand,
And often semblaunce made to scape out of their hand.
But they him layd full low in dungeon deepe, xxxvi
And bound him hand and foote with yron chains.
And with continuall watch did warely keepe;
Who then would thinke, that by his subtile trains
He could escape fowle death or deadly paines?
Thus when that Princes wrath was pacifide,
He gan renew the late forbidden banes,
And to the knight his daughter deare he tyde,
With sacred rites and vowes for euer to abyde.
His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, xxxvii
That none but death for euer can deuide;
His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit,
The housling fire did kindle and prouide,
And holy water thereon sprinckled wide;
At which the
[428] bushy Teade a groome did light,
And sacred lampe in secret chamber hide,
Where it should not be quenched day nor night,
For feare of euill fates, but burnen euer bright.
Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, xxxviii
And made great feast to solemnize that day;
They all perfumde with frankincense
[429] diuine,
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 play,
To driue away the dull Melancholy;
The whiles one sung a song of loue and iollity.
[Pg 163]
During the which there was an heauenly noise xxxix
Heard sound through all the Pallace pleasantly,
Like as it had bene many an Angels voice,
Singing before th’eternall maiesty,
In their trinall triplicities on hye;
Yet wist no creature, whence that heauenly sweet
Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly
Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet,
And rauished with rare impression in his sprite.
Great ioy was made that day of young and old, xl
And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land,
That their exceeding merth may not be told:
Suffice it heare by signes to vnderstand
The vsuall ioyes at knitting of loues band.
Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold,
Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand,
And euer, when his eye did her behold,
His
[430] heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold.
Her ioyous presence and sweet company xli
In full content he there did long enioy,
Ne wicked enuie, ne
[431] vile gealosy
His deare delights were able to annoy:
Yet swimming in that sea of blisfull ioy,
He nought forgot, how he whilome had sworne,
In case he could that monstrous beast destroy,
Vnto his Faerie Queene backe to returne:
The which he shortly did, and Vna left to mourne.
Now strike your sailes ye iolly Mariners, xlii
For we be come vnto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers,
And light this wearie vessell of her lode.
Here she a while may make her safe abode,
Till she repaired haue her tackles spent,
And wants supplide. And then againe abroad
On the long voyage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede and fairely finish her intent.
FINIS LIB. I.
[Pg 164]
[Pg 165]
THE SECOND
BOOKE OF THE
FAERIE QVEENE.
Contayning,
THE LEGEND OF SIR GVYON,
OR
Of Temperaunce.
Right well I wote most mighty Soueraine, i
That all this famous antique history,
Of some th’aboundance of an idle braine
Will iudged be, and painted forgery,
Rather then matter of iust memory,
Sith none, that breatheth liuing aire, does know,
Where is that happy land of Faery,
Which I so much do vaunt, yet no where show,
But vouch antiquities, which no body can know.
But let that man with better sence aduize, ii
That of the world least part to vs is red:
And dayly how through hardy enterprize,
Many great Regions are discouered,
Which to late age were neuer mentioned.
Who euer heard of th’Indian Peru?
Or who in venturous vessell measured
The
Amazons[432] huge riuer now found trew?
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did euer vew?
[Pg 166]
Yet all these were, when no man did them know; iii
Yet haue from wisest ages hidden beene:
And later times things more vnknowne shall show.
Why then should witlesse man so much misweene
That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?
What if within the Moones faire shining spheare?
What if in euery other starre vnseene
Of other worldes he happily should heare?
He wonder would much more: yet such to some appeare.
Of Faerie lond yet if he more inquire, iv
By certaine signes here set in sundry place
He may it find; ne let him then admire,
But yield his sence to be too blunt and bace,
That no’te without an hound fine footing trace.
And thou
[433], O fairest Princesse vnder sky,
In this faire mirrhour maist behold thy face,
And thine owne realmes in lond of Faery,
And in this antique Image thy great auncestry.
The which O pardon me thus to enfold v
In couert vele, and wrap in shadowes light,
That feeble eyes your glory may behold,
Which else
[434] could not endure those beames
[435] bright,
But would be dazled with exceeding light.
O pardon, and vouchsafe with patient eare
The braue aduentures of this Faery knight
The good Sir Guyon gratiously to heare,
In whom great rule of Temp’raunce goodly doth appeare.
Guyon by Archimage abusd,
The Redcrosse knight awaytes,
Findes Mordant and Amauia slaine
With pleasures poisoned baytes.
That cunning Architect of cancred guile, i
Whom Princes late displeasure left in bands,
For falsed letters and suborned wile,
Soone as the
Redcrosse knight he vnderstands
[436]To beene departed out of Eden lands,
To serue againe his soueraine Elfin Queene,
His artes he moues, and out of caytiues
[437] hands
Himselfe he frees by secret meanes vnseene;
His shackles emptie left, him selfe escaped cleene.
And forth he fares full of malicious mind, ii
To worken mischiefe and auenging woe,
Where euer he that godly knight may find,
His onely hart sore, and his onely foe,
Sith Vna now he algates must forgoe,
Whom his victorious hands did earst restore
To natiue
[438] crowne and kingdome late ygoe:
Where she enioyes sure peace for euermore,
As weather-beaten ship arriu’d on happie shore.
Him therefore now the obiect of his spight iii
And deadly food
[439] he makes: him to offend
By forged treason, or by open fight
He seekes, of all his drift the aymed end:
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend,
[440]His practick wit, and his faire filed tong,
With thousand other sleights: for well he kend,
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce hong;
For hardly could be
[441] hurt, who was already stong.
[Pg 168]
Still as he went, he craftie stales did lay,
[442] ivWith cunning traines him to entrap vnwares,
And priuie spials plast in all his way,
To weete what course he takes, and how he fares;
To ketch him at a vantage
[443] in his snares.
But now so wise and warie was the knight
[444]By triall of his former harmes and cares,
[445]That he descride, and shonned still his slight:
The fish that once was caught, new bait will hardly bite.
Nath’lesse th’Enchaunter would not spare his paine, v
In hope to win occasion to his will;
Which when he long awaited had in vaine,
He chaungd his minde from one to other ill:
For to all good he enimy was still.
Vpon the way him fortuned to meet,
Faire marching vnderneath 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 vpright, vi
His countenaunce demure and temperate,
But yet so sterne and terrible in sight,
That cheard his friends, and did his foes amate:
He was an Elfin borne of noble state,
And mickle worship in his natiue land;
Well could he tourney and in lists debate,
And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huons hand,
When with king Oberon he came to Faerie land.
Him als accompanyd vpon the way vii
A comely Palmer, clad in blacke attire,
Of ripest yeares, and haires all hoarie gray,
That with a staffe his feeble steps did stire,
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 sire,
And euer with slow pace the knight did lead,
Who taught his trampling steed with equall steps to tread.
[Pg 169]
Such whenas Archimago them did view, viii
He weened well to worke some vncouth wile,
Eftsoones vntwisting his deceiptfull clew,
He gan to weaue a web of wicked guile,
And with faire
[446] countenance and flattring stile,
To them approching, thus the knight bespake:
Faire sonne of
Mars, that seeke with warlike spoile,
[447]And great atchieu’ments great your selfe to make,
Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble misers sake.
He stayd his steed for humble misers sake, ix
And bad tell on the tenor of his plaint;
Who feigning then in euery limbe to quake,
Through inward feare, and seeming pale and faint
With piteous mone his percing speach gan paint;
Deare Lady how shall I declare thy cace,
Whom late I left in langourous
[448] constraint?
Would God thy selfe now present were in place,
To tell this ruefull tale; thy sight could win thee grace.
Or rather would, O would it so had chaunst, x
That you, most noble Sir, had present beene,
When that lewd ribauld with vile lust aduaunst
Layd first his filthy hands on virgin cleene,
To spoile her daintie corse
[449] so faire and sheene,
As on the earth, great mother of vs all,
With liuing eye more faire was neuer seene,
Of chastitie and honour virginall:
Witnesse ye heauens, whom she in vaine to helpe did call.
How may it be, (said then the knight halfe wroth,) xi
That knight should knighthood euer so haue shent?
None but that saw (quoth he) would weene for troth,
How shamefully that Maid he did torment.
Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent,
And drew her on the ground, and his sharpe sword
[450]Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent,
And threatned death with many a bloudie word;
Toung hates to tell the rest, that eye to see abhord.
[Pg 170]
Therewith amoued from his sober mood, xii
And liues he yet (said he) that wrought this act,
And doen the heauens afford him vitall food?
He liues, (quoth he) and boasteth of the fact,
Ne yet hath any knight his courage crackt.
Where may that treachour then (said he) be found,
Or by what meanes may I his footing tract?
That shall I shew (said he) as sure, as hound
The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the bleeding wound.
He staid not lenger talke, but with fierce ire xiii
And zealous hast away is quickly gone
To seeke that knight, where him that craftie Squire
Supposd to be. They do arriue anone,
Where sate a gentle Lady all alone,
With garments rent, and haire discheueled,
Wringing her hands, 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, xiv
Faire Ladie, through foule sorrow ill bedight,
Great pittie is to see you thus dismaid,
And marre the blossome of your beautie bright:
For thy appease your griefe and heauie plight,
And tell the cause of your conceiued paine.
For if he liue, that hath you doen despight,
[451]He shall you doe due recompence againe,
Or else his wrong with greater puissance maintaine.
Which when she heard, as in despightfull wise, xv
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 dreriment,
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be seene,
But hid her visage, and her head downe bent,
Either for grieuous shame, or for great teene,
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed beene.
[Pg 171]
Till her that Squire bespake, Madame my liefe
[452],
xviFor Gods deare loue be not so wilfull bent,
But doe vouchsafe now to receiue reliefe,
The which good fortune doth to you present.
For what bootes it to weepe and to wayment,
When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill increase,
And the weake mind with double woe torment?
When she her Squire heard speake, she gan appease
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some secret ease.
Eftsoone she said, Ah gentle trustie Squire, xvii
What comfort can I wofull wretch conceaue,
Or why should euer I henceforth desire
[453]To see faire heauens face, and life not leaue,
Sith that false Traytour did my honour reaue?
False traytour certes (said the Faerie knight)
I read the man, that euer would deceaue
A gentle Ladie, or her wrong through might:
Death were too little paine for such a foule despight.
But now, faire Ladie, comfort to you make, xviii
And read, who hath ye wrought this shamefull plight;
[454]That short reuenge the man may ouertake,
Where so he be, and soone vpon him light.
Certes (saide she) I wote not how he hight,
But vnder him a gray steede did he
[455] wield,
Whose sides with dapled circles weren dight;
Vpright he rode, and in his siluer shield
He bore a bloudie Crosse, that quartred all the field.
Now by my head (said Guyon) much I muse, xix
How that same knight should do so foule amis,
Or euer gentle Damzell so abuse:
For may I boldly say, he surely is
A right good knight, and true of word ywis:
I present was, and can it witnesse well,
When armes he swore, and streight did enterpris
Th’aduenture of the Errant damozell,
In which he hath great glorie wonne, as I heare tell.
[Pg 172]
Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be tryde, xx
And fairely quite
[456] him of th’imputed blame,
Else be ye sure he dearely shall abyde,
Or make you good amendment for the same:
All wrongs haue mends, but no amends of shame.
Now therefore Ladie, rise out of your paine,
And see the saluing of your blotted
[457] name.
Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did faine;
For she was inly glad her purpose so to gaine.
Her purpose was not such, as she did faine, xxi
Ne yet her person such, as it was seene,
But vnder simple shew and semblant plaine
Lurckt false Duessa secretly vnseene,
As a chast Virgin, that had wronged beene:
So had false Archimago her disguisd,
To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad teene;
And eke himselfe had craftily deuisd
To be her Squire, and do her seruice well aguisd.
Her late forlorne and naked he had found, xxii
Where she did wander in waste wildernesse,
Lurking in rockes and caues farre vnder ground,
And with greene mosse cou’ring her nakednesse,
To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse;
Sith her Prince Arthur of proud ornaments
And borrow’d beautie spoyld. Her nathelesse
Th’enchaunter finding fit for his intents,
Did thus reuest, and deckt with due habiliments.
For all he did, was to deceiue good knights, xxiii
And draw them from pursuit of praise and fame,
To slug in slouth and sensuall delights,
And end their daies with irrenowmed shame.
And now exceeding griefe him ouercame,
To see the Redcrosse thus aduaunced hye;
Therefore this craftie engine he did frame,
Against his praise to stirre vp enmitye
Of such, as vertues like mote vnto him allye.
[Pg 173]
So now he Guyon guides an vncouth way xxiv
Through woods and mountaines, till they came at last
Into a pleasant dale, that lowly lay
Betwixt two hils, whose high heads ouerplast,
The valley did with coole shade ouercast,
Through midst thereof a little riuer rold,
By which there sate a knight with helme vnlast,
Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold,
After his trauell long, and labours manifold.
Loe yonder he, cryde Archimage alowd, xxv
That wrought the shamefull fact, which I did shew;
And now he doth himselfe in secret shrowd,
To flie the vengeance for his outrage dew;
But vaine: for ye shall dearely do him rew,
So God ye speed, and send you good successe;
Which we farre off will here abide to vew.
So they him left, inflam’d with wrathfulnesse,
That streight against that knight his speare he did addresse.
Who seeing him from farre so fierce to pricke, xxvi
His warlike armes about him gan embrace,
And in the rest his readie speare did sticke;
Tho when as still he saw him towards pace,
He gan rencounter him in equall race.
They bene ymet, both readie to affrap,
When suddenly that warriour gan abace
His threatned speare, as if some new mishap
Had him betidde
[458], or hidden daunger did entrap.
And cryde, Mercie Sir knight, and mercie Lord, xxvii
For mine offence and heedlesse hardiment,
That had almost committed crime abhord,
And with reprochfull shame mine honour shent,
Whiles cursed steele against that badge I bent,
The sacred badge of my Redeemers death,
Which on your shield is set for ornament:
But his fierce foe his steede could stay vneath,
Who prickt with courage kene, did cruell battell breath.
[Pg 174]
But when he heard him speake, streight way he knew xxviii
His error, and himselfe inclyning sayd;
Ah deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth you,
But me behoueth rather to vpbrayd,
Whose hastie hand so farre from reason strayd,
That almost it did haynous violence
On that faire image of that heauenly Mayd,
That decks and armes your shield with faire defence:
Your court’sie takes on you anothers due offence.
So bene they both attone
[459], and doen vpreare
xxixTheir beuers bright, each other for to greete;
Goodly comportance each to other beare,
And entertaine themselues 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 gouernaunce,
Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some vncouth chaunce.
Certes (said he) well mote I shame to tell xxx
The fond encheason, that me hither led.
A false infamous faitour late befell
Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested,
And playnd of grieuous outrage, which he red
A knight had wrought against a Ladie gent;
Which to auenge, he to this place me led,
Where you he made the marke of his intent,
And now is fled; foule shame him follow, where he went.
So can he turne his earnest vnto game, xxxi
Through goodly handling
[460] and wise temperance.
By this his aged guide in presence came;
Who soone as on
[461] that knight his eye did glance,
Eft soones of him had perfect cognizance,
Sith him in Faerie court he late auizd;
And said, Faire
[462] sonne, God giue you happie chance,
And that deare Crosse vpon your shield deuizd,
Wherewith aboue all knights ye goodly seeme aguizd.
[Pg 175]
Ioy may you haue, and euerlasting fame, xxxii
Of late most hard atchieu’ment by you donne,
For which enrolled is your glorious name
In heauenly Registers aboue the Sunne,
Where you a Saint with Saints your seat haue wonne:
But wretched we, where ye haue left your marke,
Must
[463] now anew begin, like race to runne;
God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy warke,
And to the wished hauen bring thy weary barke.
Palmer, (him answered the Redcrosse knight) xxxiii
His be the praise, that this atchieu’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 ensewes,
Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your thought,
That home ye may report thrise
[464] happie newes;
For well ye worthie bene for worth and gentle thewes.
So courteous conge both did giue and take, xxxiv
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 ouer dale and hill,
And with his steedie
[465] staffe did point his way:
His race with reason, and with words his will,
From foule intemperance he oft did stay,
And suffred not in wrath his hastie steps to stray.
In this faire wize they traueild long yfere, xxxv
Through many hard assayes, which did betide;
Of which he honour still away did beare,
And spred his glorie through all countries wide.
At last as chaunst them by a forest side
To passe, for succour from the scorching ray,
They heard a ruefull voice, that dearnly cride
With percing shriekes, and many a dolefull lay;
Which to attend, a while their forward steps they stay.
[Pg 176]
But if that carelesse heauens (quoth she) despise xxxvi
The doome of iust reuenge, and take delight
To see sad pageants of mens miseries,
As bound by them to liue in liues
[466] despight,
Yet can they not warne death from wretched wight.
Come then, come soone, come sweetest death to mee,
And take away this long lent loathed light:
Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweet the medicines bee,
That long captiued soules from wearie thraldome free.
But thou, sweet Babe, whom frowning froward fate xxxvii
Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers fall,
Sith heauen thee deignes to hold in liuing state,
Long maist thou liue, and better thriue withall,
Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall:
Liue thou, and to thy mother dead attest,
That cleare she dide from blemish criminall;
Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding brest
Loe I for pledges leaue. So giue me leaue to rest.
With that a deadly shrieke she forth did throw, xxxviii
That through the wood reecchoed againe,
And after gaue a grone so deepe and low,
That seemd her tender heart was rent in twaine,
Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;
As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell steele
Through launched
[467], forth her bleeding life does raine,
Whiles the sad pang approching she does feele,
Brayes out her latest breath, and vp her eyes doth seele.
Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straict xxxix
From his tall steed, he rusht into the thicke,
And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraict
Of death and dolour
[468] lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,
In whose white alabaster brest did sticke
A cruell knife, that made a griesly wound,
From which forth gusht a streme of gorebloud thick,
That all her goodly garments staind around,
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassie ground.
[Pg 177]
Pittifull spectacle of deadly smart, xl
Beside a bubbling fountaine low she lay,
Which she increased with her bleeding hart,
And the cleane waues with purple gore
[469] did ray;
Als in her lap a louely
[470] babe did play
His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;
For in her streaming blood he did embay
His litle hands, and tender ioynts embrew;
Pitifull spectacle, as euer eye did view.
Besides them both, vpon the soiled gras xli
The dead corse of an armed knight was spred,
Whose armour all with bloud besprinckled was;
His ruddie lips did smile, and rosy red
Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yet being ded:
[471]Seemd to haue beene a goodly personage,
Now in his freshest flowre of lustie hed,
Fit to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,
But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.
Whom when the good Sir Guyon did behold, xlii
His hart gan wexe as starke, as marble stone,
And his fresh bloud did frieze with fearefull cold,
That all his senses seemd bereft attone:
[472]At last his mightie ghost gan deepe to grone,
As Lyon grudging in his great disdaine,
Mournes inwardly, and makes to himselfe mone;
Till ruth and fraile affection did constraine
[473]His stout courage
[474] to stoupe, and shew his inward paine.
Out of her gored wound the cruell steele xliii
He lightly snatcht, and did the floudgate stop
With his faire garment: then gan softly feele
Her feeble pulse, to proue if any drop
Of liuing bloud yet in her veynes did hop;
Which when he felt to moue, he hoped faire
To call backe life to her forsaken shop;
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire,
That at the last she gan to breath out liuing aire.
[Pg 178]
Which he perceiuing greatly gan reioice, xliv
And goodly counsell, that for wounded hart
Is meetest med’cine, tempred with sweet voice;
Ay me, deare Lady, which the image art
Of ruefull pitie, and impatient smart,
What direfull chance, armd with reuenging
[475] fate,
Or cursed hand hath plaid this cruell part,
Thus fowle to hasten your vntimely date;
Speake, O deare Lady speake: help neuer comes too late.
Therewith her dim eie-lids she vp gan reare, xlv
On which the drery death did sit, 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 her selfe in great despight
[476]She groueling threw to ground, as hating life and light.
The gentle knight her soone with carefull paine xlvi
Vplifted light, and softly did vphold:
Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunke againe,
Till he his armes about her sides gan fold,
And to her said; Yet if the stony cold
Haue not all seized on your frozen hart,
Let one word fall that may your griefe vnfold,
And tell the secret of your mortall smart;
He oft finds present helpe, who does his griefe impart.
Then casting vp a deadly looke, full low
[477] xlviiShee sight
[478] from bottome of her wounded brest,
And after, many bitter throbs did throw
With lips full pale and foltring tongue opprest,
These words she breathed forth from riuen chest;
Leaue, ah leaue off, what euer wight thou bee,
To let a wearie wretch from her dew rest,
And trouble dying soules tranquilitee.
Take not away now got, which none would giue to me.
[Pg 179]
Ah farre be it (said he) Deare dame fro mee, xlviii
To hinder soule from her desired rest,
Or hold sad life in long captiuitee:
For all I seeke, is but to haue redrest
The bitter pangs, that doth your heart infest.
Tell then, O Lady tell, what fatall priefe
Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest?
That I may cast to compasse your reliefe,
Or die with you in sorrow, and partake your griefe.
With feeble hands then stretched forth on hye, xlix
As heauen accusing guiltie of her death,
And with dry drops congealed in her eye,
In these sad words she spent her vtmost breath:
Heare then, O man, the sorrowes that vneath
My tongue can tell, so farre all sense they pas:
Loe this dead corpse, that lies here vnderneath,
The gentlest knight, that euer on greene gras
Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good Sir
Mordant[479] was.
Was, (ay the while, that he is not so now) l
My Lord my loue; my deare Lord, my deare loue,
So long as heauens iust with equall brow
[480]Vouchsafed to behold vs from aboue,
One day when him high courage did emmoue,
As wont ye knights to seeke aduentures wilde,
He pricked forth, his puissant force to proue,
Me then he left enwombed of this child,
This lucklesse child, whom thus ye see with bloud defild.
Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may ghesse) li
To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne,
Acrasia a false enchaunteresse,
That many errant knights hath foule fordonne:
Within a wandring Island, that doth ronne
And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling is;
[481]Faire Sir, if euer there ye trauell, shonne
The cursed land where many wend amis,
And know it by the name; it hight the Bowre of blis.
[Pg 180]
Her blisse is all in pleasure and delight, lii
Wherewith she makes her louers drunken mad,
And then with words and weedes of wondrous might,
On them she workes her will to vses bad:
My lifest
[482] Lord she thus beguiled had;
For he was flesh: (all flesh doth frailtie breed.)
Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad,
Weake wretch I wrapt my selfe in Palmers weed,
And cast to seeke him forth through daunger and great dreed.
Now had faire Cynthia by euen tournes liii
Full measured three quarters of her yeare,
And thrise three times had fild her crooked hornes,
Whenas my wombe her burdein would forbeare,
And bad me call Lucina to me neare.
Lucina came: a manchild forth I brought:
The woods, the Nymphes, my bowres, my midwiues weare,
Hard helpe at need. So deare thee babe I bought,
Yet nought too deare I deemd, while so my dear I sought.
Him so I sought, and so at last I found, liv
Where him that witch had thralled to her will,
In chaines of lust and lewd desires ybound,
And so transformed from his former skill,
That me he knew not, neither his owne ill;
Till through wise handling and faire gouernance,
I him recured to a better will,
Purged from drugs of foule intemperance:
Then meanes I gan deuise for his deliuerance.
Which when the vile Enchaunteresse perceiu’d, lv
How that my Lord from her I would repriue,
With cup thus charmd, him parting she deceiu’d;
Sad verse, giue death to him that death does giue,
And losse of loue, to her that loues to liue,
So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe does lincke:
[483]
So parted we and on our iourney driue,
Till comming to this well, he stoupt to drincke:
The charme fulfild, dead suddenly he downe did sincke.
[Pg 181]
Which when I wretch, Not one word more she sayd lvi
But breaking off
[484] the end for want of breath,
And slyding soft, as downe to sleepe her layd,
And ended all her woe in quiet death.
That seeing good Sir Guyon, could vneath
From teares abstaine, for griefe his hart did grate,
And from so heauie sight his head did wreath,
Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate,
Which plunged
[485] had faire Ladie in so wretched state.
Then turning to his
[486] Palmer said, Old syre
lviiBehold the image of mortalitie,
And feeble nature cloth’d with fleshly tyre,
When raging passion with fierce tyrannie
Robs reason of her due regalitie,
And makes it seruant 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 temperance (said he) with golden squire lviii
Betwixt them both can measure out a meane,
Neither to melt in pleasures whot
[487] desire,
Nor fry
[488] in hartlesse griefe and dolefull teene.
Thrise happie man, who fares them both atweene:
But sith this wretched woman ouercome
Of anguish, rather then of crime hath beene,
Reserue her cause to her eternall doome,
And in the meane vouchsafe her honorable toombe.
Palmer (quoth he) death is an equall
[489] doome
lixTo good and bad, the common Inne of rest;
But after death the tryall is to come,
When best shall be to them, that liued best:
But both alike, when death hath both supprest,
Religious reuerence doth buriall teene,
Which who so wants, wants so much of his rest:
For all so great shame after death I weene,
As selfe to dyen bad, vnburied bad to beene.
[Pg 182]
So both agree their bodies to engraue; lx
The great earthes wombe they open to the sky,
And with sad Cypresse seemely it embraue,
Then couering with a clod their closed eye,
They lay therein those corses tenderly,
And bid them sleepe in euerlasting peace.
But ere they did their vtmost obsequy,
Sir Guyon more affection to increace,
Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should aye releace.
The dead knights sword out of his sheath he drew, lxi
With which he cut a locke of all their heare,
Which medling with their bloud and earth, he threw
Into the graue, and gan deuoutly sweare;
Such and such euill God on Guyon reare,
And worse and worse young Orphane be thy paine,
If I or thou dew vengeance doe forbeare,
Till guiltie bloud her guerdon doe obtaine:
So shedding many teares, they closd the earth againe.
Babes bloudie hands may not be clensd:[490]
the face of golden Meane.
Her sisters two Extremities[491]
striue her to banish cleane.
Thus when Sir Guyon with his faithfull guide i
Had with due rites and dolorous lament
The end of their sad Tragedie vptyde,
The litle babe vp in his armes he hent;
Who with sweet pleasance 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 deepe
In that knights heart, and wordes with bitter teares did steepe.
[Pg 183]
Ah lucklesse babe, borne vnder cruell starre, ii
And in dead parents balefull ashes bred,
Full litle weenest thou, what sorrowes are
Left thee for portion of thy liuelihed,
Poore Orphane in the wide world scattered,
As budding braunch rent from the natiue tree,
And throwen forth, till it be withered:
Such is the state of men: thus enter wee
Into this life with woe, and end with miseree.
Then soft himselfe inclyning on his knee iii
Downe to that well, did in the water weene
(So loue does loath disdainfull nicitee)
His guiltie hands from bloudie gore to cleene.
He washt them oft and oft, yet nought they beene
For all his washing cleaner. Still he stroue,
Yet still the litle hands were bloudie seene;
The which him into great amaz’ment droue,
And into diuerse doubt his wauering wonder cloue.
He wist not whether blot of foule offence iv
Might not be purgd with water nor with bath;
Or that high God, in lieu
[492] of innocence,
Imprinted had that token of his wrath,
To shew how sore bloudguiltinesse he hat’th
[493];
Or that the charme and venim, which they druncke,
Their bloud with secret filth infected hath,
Being diffused through the senselesse truncke,
That through the great contagion direfull deadly stunck.
Whom thus at gaze, the Palmer gan to bord v
With goodly reason, and thus faire bespake;
Ye bene right hard
[494] amated, gratious Lord,
And of your ignorance great maruell make,
Whiles cause not well conceiued ye mistake.
But know, that secret vertues are infusd
In euery fountaine, and in euery lake,
Which who hath skill them rightly to haue chusd,
To proofe of passing wonders hath full often vsd.
[Pg 184]
Of those some were so from their sourse indewd vi
By great Dame Nature, from whose fruitfull pap
Their welheads spring, and are with moisture deawd;
Which feedes each liuing plant with liquid sap,
And filles with flowres faire Floraes painted lap:
But other some by gift 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
[495] place.
Such is this well, wrought by occasion straunge, vii
Which to her Nymph befell. Vpon a day,
As she the woods with bow and shafts did raunge,
The hartlesse Hind and Robucke to dismay,
Dan Faunus chaunst to meet her by the way,
And kindling fire at her faire burning eye,
Inflamed was to follow beauties chace
[496],
And chaced her, that fast from him did fly;
As Hind from her, so she fled from her enimy.
At last when fayling breath began to faint, viii
And saw no meanes to scape, of shame affrayd,
She set
[497] her downe to weepe for sore constraint,
And to Diana calling lowd for ayde,
Her deare besought, to let her dye a mayd.
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.
Lo now she is that stone, from whose
[498] two heads,
ixAs from two weeping eyes, fresh streames do flow,
Yet cold through feare, and old conceiued dreads;
And yet the stone her semblance seemes to show,
Shapt like a maid, that such ye may her know;
And yet her vertues in her water byde:
For it is chast and pure, as purest snow,
Ne lets her waues with any filth be
[499] dyde,
But euer like her selfe vnstained hath beene tryde.
[Pg 185]
From thence it comes, that this babes bloudy hand x
May not be clensd with water of this well:
Ne certes Sir striue you it to withstand,
But let them still be bloudy, 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 minde reuengement,
And be for all chast Dames an endlesse moniment.
He hearkned to his reason, and the childe xi
Vptaking, to the Palmer gaue to beare;
But his sad fathers armes with bloud defilde,
An heauie load himselfe did lightly reare,
And turning to that place, in which whyleare
He left his loftie steed with golden sell,
And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found not theare.
By other accident that earst befell,
He is conuaide, but how or where, here fits not tell.
Which when Sir Guyon saw, all were he wroth, xii
Yet algates mote he soft himselfe appease,
And fairely fare on foot, how euer loth;
His double burden did him sore disease.
So long they traueiled with litle ease,
Till that at last they to a Castle came,
Built on a rocke adioyning to the seas;
[500]It was an auncient worke of antique fame
[501],
And wondrous strong by nature, and by skilfull frame.
Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry sort, xiii
The children of one sire by mothers three;
Who dying whylome did diuide this fort
To them by equall shares in equall fee:
But strifull
[502] minde, and diuerse qualitee
Drew them in parts, and each made others foe:
Still did they striue, and dayly disagree;
The eldest did against the youngest goe,
And both against the middest meant to worken woe.
[Pg 186]
Where when the knight arriu’d, he was right well xiv
Receiu’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 curteous Dame;
Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize,
In goodly garments, that her well became,
Faire marching forth in honorable wize,
Him at the threshold met, and well did enterprize.
She led him vp into a goodly bowre, xv
And comely courted with meet modestie,
Ne in her speach, ne in her hauiour,
Was lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie,
But gratious womanhood, and grauitie,
Aboue the reason of her youthly yeares:
Her golden lockes she roundly did vptye
In breaded
[503] tramels, that no looser heares
Did out of order stray about her daintie eares.
Whilest she her selfe thus busily did frame, xvi
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 friend with lauish fest:
They were two knights of perelesse puissance,
And famous far abroad for warlike gest,
Which to these Ladies loue did countenaunce,
And to his mistresse each himselfe stroue to aduaunce.
He that made loue vnto the eldest Dame, xvii
Was hight Sir Huddibras, an hardy man;
Yet not so good of deedes, as great of name,
Which he by many rash aduentures wan,
Since errant armes to sew he first began;
More huge in strength, then wise in workes he was,
And reason with foole-hardize ouer ran;
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas,
And was for terrour more, all armd in shyning bras.
[Pg 187]
But he that lou’d the youngest, was Sans-loy, xviii
He that faire Vna late fowle outraged,
The most vnruly, and the boldest boy,
That euer warlike weapons menaged,
And to all lawlesse lust encouraged,
Through strong opinion of his matchlesse might:
Ne ought he car’d, whom he endamaged
By tortious wrong, or whom bereau’d of right.
He now this Ladies champion chose for loue to fight.
These two gay knights, vowd to so diuerse loues, xix
Each other does enuie with deadly hate,
And dayly warre against his foeman moues,
In hope to win more fauour with his mate,
And th’others pleasing seruice to abate,
To magnifie his owne. But when they heard,
How in that place straunge knight arriued late,
Both knights and Ladies forth right angry far’d,
And fiercely vnto battell sterne themselues prepar’d.
But ere they could proceede vnto the place, xx
Where he abode, themselues at discord fell,
And cruell combat ioynd in middle space:
With horrible assault, and furie fell,
They heapt huge strokes, the scorned life to quell,
That all on vprore from her settled seat
[504]The house was raysd, and all that in did dwell;
Seemd that lowde thunder with amazement great
Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of fouldring heat.
The noyse thereof cald
[505] forth that straunger knight,
xxiTo weet, what dreadfull thing was there in hand
[506];
Where when as two braue knights in bloudy fight
With deadly rancour he enraunged fond,
His sunbroad shield about his wrest he bond,
And shyning blade vnsheathd, with which he ran
Vnto that stead, their strife to vnderstond;
And at his first arriuall, them began
With goodly meanes to pacifie, well as he can.
[Pg 188]
But they him spying, both with greedy forse xxii
Attonce vpon him ran, and him beset
With strokes of mortall steele without remorse,
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 traueiler with feet surbet,
Whom they in equall pray hope to deuide,
They stint their strife, and him assaile on euery side.
But he, not like a wearie traueilere, xxiii
Their sharpe assault right boldly
[507] did rebut,
And suffred not their blowes to byte him nere,
But with redoubled buffes them backe did put:
Whose grieued mindes, which choler did englut,
Against themselues turning their wrathfull spight,
Gan with new rage their shields to hew and cut;
But still when Guyon came to part their fight,
With heauie load on him they freshly gan to smight.
As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas, xxiv
Whom raging windes threatning to make the pray
Of the rough rockes, do diuersly disease,
Meetes two contrary billowes by the way,
That her on either side do sore assay,
And boast to swallow her in greedy graue;
She scorning both their spights, does make wide way,
And with her brest breaking the fomy waue,
Does ride on both their backs, and faire her selfe doth saue.
So boldly he him beares, and rusheth forth xxv
Betweene 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 payes,
Now forst to yield, now forcing to inuade,
Before, behind, and round about him layes:
So double was his paines, so double be his prayse.
[Pg 189]
Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt knights to see xxvi
Three combats ioyne in one, and to darraine
A triple warre with triple enmitee,
All for their Ladies froward loue to gaine,
Which gotten was but hate. So loue does raine
In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous warre;
He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe,
And yet his peace is but continuall iarre:
O miserable men, that to him subiect arre.
Whilst thus they mingled were in furious armes, xxvii
The faire Medina with her tresses torne,
And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes,
Emongst them ran, and falling them beforne,
Besought them by the womb, which them had borne,
And by the loues, which were to them most deare,
And by the knighthood, which they sure had sworne,
Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare,
And to her iust conditions of faire peace to heare.
But her two other sisters standing by, xxviii
Her lowd gainsaid, and both their
[508] champions
[509] bad
Pursew the end of their strong enmity,
As euer of their loues they would be glad.
Yet she with pitthy words and counsell sad,
Still stroue their stubborne rages to reuoke,
That at the last suppressing fury mad,
They gan abstaine from dint of direfull stroke,
And hearken to the sober speaches, which she spoke.
Ah puissaunt Lords, what cursed euill Spright, xxix
Or fell
Erinnys, in your noble harts
[510]Her hellish brond hath kindled with despight,
And stird you vp to worke your wilfull smarts?
Is this the ioy of armes? be these the parts
Of glorious knighthood, after bloud to thrust
[511],
And not regard dew right and iust desarts?
Vaine is the vaunt, and victory vniust,
That more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.
[Pg 190]
And were there
[512] rightfull cause of difference
xxxYet were not better, faire it to accord,
Then with bloud guiltinesse
[513] to heape offence,
And mortall vengeaunce ioyne to crime abhord?
O fly from wrath, fly, O my liefest Lord:
Sad be the sights, and bitter fruits of warre,
And thousand furies wait on wrathfull sword;
Ne ought the prayse of prowesse more doth marre,
Then fowle reuenging rage, and base contentious iarre.
But louely concord, and most sacred peace xxxi
Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship breeds;
Weake she makes
[514] strong, and strong thing does increace,
Till it the pitch of highest prayse exceeds:
Braue be her warres, and honorable deeds,
By which she triumphes ouer ire and pride,
And winnes an Oliue girlond for her meeds:
Be therefore, O my deare Lords, pacifide,
And this misseeming discord meekely lay aside.
Her gracious wordes their rancour did appall, xxxii
And suncke so deepe into their boyling brests,
That downe they let their cruell weapons fall,
And lowly did abase their loftie crests
To her faire presence, and discrete behests.
Then she began a treatie to procure,
And stablish termes betwixt both their requests,
That as a law for euer should endure;
Which to obserue in word of knights they did assure.
Which to confirme, and fast to bind their league, xxxiii
After their wearie sweat and bloudy toile,
She them besought, during their quiet treague,
Into her lodging to repaire a while,
To rest themselues, and grace to reconcile.
They soone consent: so forth with her they fare,
Where they are well receiu’d, and made to spoile
Themselues of soiled armes, and to prepare
Their minds to pleasure, and their mouthes to dainty fare.
[Pg 191]
And those two froward sisters, their faire loues xxxiv
Came with them eke, all were they wondrous loth,
And fained cheare, as for the time behoues,
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 grieue, as doth an hidden moth
The inner garment fret, not th’vtter touch;
One thought their
[515] cheare too litle, th’other thought too mutch.
Elissa (so the eldest hight) did deeme xxxv
Such entertainment base, ne ought would eat,
Ne ought would speake, but euermore did seeme
As discontent for want of merth or meat;
No solace could her Paramour intreat
Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliance,
But with bent lowring browes, as she would threat,
She scould, and frownd with froward countenaunce,
Vnworthy of faire Ladies comely gouernaunce.
But young Perissa was of other mind, xxxvi
Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light,
And quite contrary to her sisters kind;
No measure in her mood, no rule of right,
But poured out in pleasure and delight;
In wine and meats she flowd aboue the bancke,
And in excesse exceeded her owne might;
In sumptuous tire she ioyd her selfe to prancke,
But of her loue too lauish (litle haue she thancke.)
Fast
[516] by her side did sit the bold
Sans-loy,
xxxviiFit mate for such a mincing mineon,
Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding ioy;
Might not be found a franker franion,
Of her lewd parts to make companion;
But Huddibras, more like a Malecontent,
Did see and grieue at his bold fashion;
Hardly could he endure his hardiment,
Yet still he sat, and inly did him selfe torment.
[Pg 192]
Betwixt them both the faire Medina sate xxxviii
With sober grace, and goodly carriage:
With equall measure she did moderate
The strong extremities of their outrage;
That forward paire she euer would asswage,
When they would striue dew reason to exceed;
But that same froward twaine would accourage,
And of her plenty adde vnto their need:
So kept she them in order, and her selfe in heed.
Thus fairely she attempered her feast, xxxix
And pleasd them all with meete satietie,
At last when lust of meat and drinke was ceast,
She Guyon deare besought of curtesie,
To tell from whence he came through ieopardie,
And whither now on new aduenture bound.
Who with bold grace, and comely grauitie,
Drawing to him the eyes of all around,
From lofty siege began these words aloud to sound.
This thy demaund, O Lady, doth reuiue xl
Fresh memory in me of that great Queene,
Great and most glorious virgin Queene aliue,
That with her soueraigne powre, and scepter shene
All Faery lond does peaceably
[517] sustene.
In widest Ocean she her throne does reare,
That ouer all the earth it may be seene;
As morning Sunne her beames dispredden cleare,
And in her face faire peace, and mercy doth appeare.
In her the richesse of all heauenly grace
[518] xliIn chiefe degree are heaped vp on hye:
And all that else this worlds enclosure bace
[519]Hath great or glorious in mortall eye,
[520]Adornes the person of her Maiestie;
That men beholding so great excellence,
And rare perfection in mortalitie,
Do her adore with sacred reuerence,
As th’Idole of her makers great magnificence.
[Pg 193]
To her I homage and my seruice owe, xlii
In number of the noblest knights on ground,
Mongst whom on me she deigned to bestowe
Order of Maydenhead, the most renownd,
That may this day in all the world be found:
[521]An yearely solemne feast she wontes to make
[522]The day that first doth lead the yeare around;
To which all knights of worth and courage bold
Resort, to heare of straunge aduentures to be told.
There this old Palmer shewed himselfe that day, xliii
And to that mighty Princesse did complaine
Of grieuous mischiefes, which a wicked Fay
Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly paine,
Whereof he crau’d redresse. My Soueraine,
Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and ioyes
Throughout the world her mercy to maintaine,
Eftsoones deuisd redresse for such annoyes;
Me all vnfit for so great purpose she employes.
Now hath faire Phœbe with her siluer face xliv
Thrise seene the shadowes of the neather world,
Sith last I left that honorable place,
In which her royall presence is †introld
[523];
Ne euer shall I rest in house nor hold,
Till I that false Acrasia haue wonne;
Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to be told,
[524]I witnesse am, and this their wretched sonne,
Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly fordonne.
Tell on, faire Sir, said she, that dolefull tale, xlv
From which sad ruth does seeme you to restraine,
That we may pitty such vnhappy bale,
And learne from pleasures poyson to abstaine:
Ill by ensample good doth often gayne.
Then forward he his purpose gan pursew,
And told the storie of the mortall payne,
Which Mordant and Amauia did rew;
As with lamenting eyes him selfe did lately vew.
[Pg 194]
Night was far spent, and now in Ocean deepe xlvi
Orion, flying fast from hissing snake,
His flaming head did hasten for to steepe,
When of his pitteous tale he end did make;
Whilest with delight of that he wisely spake,
Those guestes beguiled, did beguile their eyes
Of kindly sleepe, that did them ouertake.
At last when they had markt the chaunged skyes,
They wist their houre was spent; then each to rest him hyes.
Vaine Braggadocchio getting Guyons
horse is made the scorne
Of knighthood trew, and is of fayre
Belphœbe fowle forlorne.
Soone as the morrow faire with purple beames i
Disperst the shadowes of the mistie night,
And Titan playing on the eastern streames,
Gan cleare the deawy ayre with springing light,
Sir Guyon mindfull of his vow yplight,
Vprose from drowsie couch, and him addrest
Vnto the iourney which he had behight:
His puissaunt armes about his noble brest,
And many-folded shield he bound about his wrest.
Then taking Congé of that virgin pure, ii
The bloudy-handed babe vnto her truth
Did earnestly commit, and her coniure,
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth,
And all that gentle noriture ensu’th:
And that so soone as ryper yeares he raught
[525],
He might for memorie of that dayes ruth,
Be called Ruddymane, and thereby taught,
T’auenge his Parents death on them, that had it wrought.
[Pg 195]
So forth he far’d, as now befell, on foot, iii
Sith his good steed is lately from him gone;
Patience perforce; helpelesse what may it boot
To fret for anger, or for griefe to mone?
His Palmer now shall foot no more alone:
So fortune wrought, as vnder greene woods syde
He lately heard that dying Lady grone,
He left his steed without, and speare besyde,
And rushed in on foot to ayd her, ere she dyde.
The whiles a losell wandring by the way, iv
One that to bountie neuer cast his mind,
Ne thought of honour euer did assay
His baser brest, but in his kestrell kind
A pleasing vaine of glory vaine
[526] did find,
To which his flowing toung, and troublous spright
Gaue him great ayd, and made him more inclind:
He that braue steed there finding ready dight,
Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran away full light.
Now gan his hart all swell in iollitie, v
And of him selfe great hope and helpe conceiu’d,
That puffed vp with smoke of vanitie,
And with selfe-loued personage deceiu’d,
He gan to hope, of men to be receiu’d
For such, as he him thought, or faine would bee:
But for in court gay portaunce he perceiu’d,
And gallant shew to be in greatest gree,
Eftsoones to court he cast t’auaunce
[527] his first degree.
And by the way he chaunced to espy vi
One sitting idle on a sunny bancke,
To whom auaunting in great brauery,
As Peacocke, that his painted plumes doth prancke,
He smote his courser in the trembling flancke,
And to him threatned his hart-thrilling speare:
The seely man seeing him ryde so rancke,
And ayme at him, fell flat to ground for feare,
And crying Mercy lowd, his pitious hands gan reare.
[Pg 196]
Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous prowd, vii
Through fortune of his first aduenture faire,
And with big thundring voyce reuyld him lowd;
Vile Caytiue, vassall of dread and despaire,
Vnworthie of the commune
[528] breathed aire,
Why liuest thou, dead dog, a lenger day,
And doest not vnto death thy selfe prepaire.
Dye, or thy selfe my captiue yield for ay;
Great fauour I thee graunt, for aunswere thus to stay.
Hold, O deare Lord, hold your dead-doing hand, viii
Then loud he cryde, I am your humble thrall.
Ah wretch (quoth he) thy destinies withstand
My wrathfull will, and do for mercy call.
I giue 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: ix
Eftsoones this liege-man gan to wexe more bold,
And when he felt the folly of his Lord,
In his owne kind he gan him selfe vnfold:
For he was wylie witted, and growne old
In cunning sleights and practick knauery.
From
[529] that day forth he cast for to vphold
His idle humour with fine flattery
[530],
And blow the bellowes to his swelling vanity.
Trompart fit man for
Braggadocchio[531],
x
To serue at court in view of vaunting eye;
Vaine-glorious man, when fluttring wind does blow
In his light wings, is lifted vp to skye:
The scorne of knighthood and trew cheualrye,
To thinke without desert of gentle deed,
And noble worth to be aduaunced hye:
Such prayse is shame; but honour vertues meed
Doth beare the fairest flowre in honorable seed.
[Pg 197]
So forth they pas, a well consorted paire, xi
Till that at length with Archimage they meet:
Who seeing one that shone in armour faire,
On goodly courser
[532] thundring with his feet,
Eftsoones supposed him a person meet,
Of his reuenge to make the instrument:
For since the Redcrosse knight he earst did weet,
To beene with Guyon knit in one consent,
The ill, which earst to him, he now to Guyon ment.
And comming close to Trompart gan inquere xii
Of him, what mighty warriour that mote bee,
That rode in golden sell with single spere,
But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee.
He is a great aduenturer, (said he)
That hath his sword through hard assay forgone,
And now hath vowd, till he auenged bee,
Of that despight, neuer to wearen none;
That speare is him enough to doen a thousand grone.
Th’enchaunter greatly ioyed in the vaunt, xiii
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 wrongs, which had committed bin
By Guyon, and by that false Redcrosse knight,
Which two through treason and deceiptfull gin,
Had slaine Sir Mordant, and his Lady bright:
That mote him honour win, to wreake so foule despight.
Therewith all suddeinly he seemd enraged, xiv
And threatned death with dreadfull countenaunce,
As if their liues had in his hand beene gaged;
And with stiffe force shaking his mortall launce,
To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce,
Thus said; Old man, great sure shalbe thy meed,
If where those knights for feare of dew vengeaunce
Do lurke, thou certainly to me areed,
That I may wreake on them their hainous hatefull deed.
[Pg 198]
Certes, my Lord, (said he) that shall I soone, xv
And giue you eke good helpe to their decay,
But mote I wisely you aduise to doon;
Giue no ods to your foes, but do puruay
Your selfe of sword before that bloudy day:
For they be two the prowest knights on ground,
And oft approu’d in many hard assay,
And eke of surest steele, that may be found,
Do arme your selfe against that day, them to confound.
Dotard (said he) let be thy deepe aduise; xvi
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits thee faile,
And that weake eld hath left thee nothing wise,
Else neuer should thy iudgement be so fraile,
To measure manhood by the sword or maile.
Is not enough foure quarters of a man,
Withouten sword or shield, an host to quaile?
Thou little wotest, what this right hand can:
Speake they, which haue beheld the battailes, which it wan.
The man was much abashed at his boast; xvii
Yet well he wist, that who so would contend
With either of those knights on euen coast,
Should need of all his armes, him to defend;
Yet feared least his boldnesse should offend,
When Braggadocchio said, Once I did sweare,
When with one sword seuen knights I brought to end,
Thence forth in battell neuer sword to beare,
But it were that, which noblest knight on earth doth weare.
Perdie Sir knight, said then th’enchaunter bliue, xviii
That shall I shortly purchase to your hond:
For now the best and noblest knight aliue
Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond;
He hath a sword, that flames like burning brond.
The same by my deuice
[533] I vndertake
Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.
At which bold word that boaster gan to quake,
And wondred in his mind, what mote that monster make.
[Pg 199]
He stayd not for more bidding, but away xix
Was suddein vanished out of his sight:
The Northerne wind his wings did broad display
At his commaund, and reared him vp light
From off the earth to take his aerie flight.
They lookt about, but no where could espie
Tract of his foot: then dead through great affright
They both nigh were, and each bad other flie:
Both fled attonce, ne euer backe returned eie.
Till that they come vnto a forrest greene, xx
In which they shrowd themselues from causelesse feare;
Yet feare them followes still, where so they beene,
Each trembling leafe, and whistling wind they heare,
As ghastly bug their haire on end does
[534] reare:
Yet both doe striue their fearfulnesse to faine.
At last they heard a horne, that shrilled cleare
Throughout the wood, that ecchoed againe,
And made the forrest ring, as it would riue in twaine.
Eft through the thicke they heard one rudely rush; xxi
With noyse whereof 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
[535]Of what might hap. Eftsoone there stepped forth
A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed,
That seemd to be a woman of great worth,
And by her stately portance, borne of heauenly birth.
Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not, xxii
But heauenly pourtraict of bright Angels hew,
Cleare as the skie, 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 lillies shed,
The which ambrosiall odours from them threw,
And gazers sense with double pleasure fed,
Hable
[536] to heale the sicke, and to reuiue the ded.
[Pg 200]
In her faire eyes two liuing lamps did flame, xxiii
Kindled aboue at th’heauenly makers light,
And darted fyrie beames out of the same,
So passing persant
[537], and so wondrous bright,
That quite bereau’d the rash beholders sight:
In them the blinded god his lustfull fire
To kindle oft assayd, but had no might;
For with dredd
[538] Maiestie, and awfull ire,
She broke his wanton darts, and quenched base desire.
Her iuorie forhead, full of bountie braue, xxiv
Like a broad table did it selfe dispred,
For Loue his loftie triumphes to engraue,
And write the battels of his great godhed:
All good and honour might therein be red:
For there their dwelling was. And when she spake,
Sweet words, like dropping honny she did shed,
And twixt the perles and rubins softly brake
A siluer sound, that heauenly musicke seemd to make.
Vpon her eyelids many Graces sate, xxv
Vnder the shadow of her euen browes,
Working belgards, and amorous retrate,
And euery one her with a grace endowes:
And euery one with meekenesse to her bowes.
So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace,
And soueraine moniment of mortall vowes,
How shall fraile pen descriue her heauenly face,
For feare through want of skill her beautie to disgrace?
So faire, and thousand thousand times more faire xxvi
She seemd, when she presented was to sight,
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire,
All in a silken Camus lylly whight,
Purfled vpon with many a folded plight,
Which all aboue besprinckled was throughout
[539]With golden aygulets, that glistred bright,
Like twinckling starres, and all the skirt about
Was hemd with golden fringe
[Pg 201]
Below her ham her weed did somewhat traine, xxvii
And her streight legs most brauely were embayld
In gilden buskins of costly Cordwaine,
All bard with golden bendes, which were entayld
With curious antickes, and full faire aumayld:
Before they fastned were vnder her knee
In a rich Iewell, and therein entrayld
The ends
[540] of all their
[541] knots, that none might see,
How they within their fouldings close enwrapped bee.
Like two faire marble pillours they were
[542] seene,
xxviiiWhich doe the temple of the Gods support,
Whom all the people decke with girlands greene,
And honour in their festiuall resort;
Those same with stately grace, and princely port
She taught to tread, when she her selfe would grace,
But with the wooddie Nymphes when she did play
[543],
Or when the flying Libbard she did chace,
She could them nimbly moue, and after fly apace.
And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she held, xxix
And at her backe a bow and quiuer gay,
Stuft with steele-headed darts, wherewith she queld
The saluage beastes in her victorious play,
Knit with a golden bauldricke, which forelay
Athwart her snowy brest, and did diuide
Her daintie paps; which like young fruit in May
Now little gan to swell, and being tide,
Through her thin weed their places only signifide.
Her yellow lockes crisped, like golden wyre, xxx
About her shoulders weren loosely shed,
And when the winde emongst them did inspyre,
They waued like a penon wide dispred
[544],
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 haires sweet flowres themselues did lap,
And flourishing fresh leaues and blossomes did enwrap.
[Pg 202]
Such as Diana by the sandie shore xxxi
Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene,
Where all the Nymphes haue her vnwares forlore,
Wandreth 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 ioy,
To succour the weake state of sad afflicted Troy.
Such when as hartlesse Trompart her did vew, xxxii
He was dismayed in his coward mind,
And doubted, whether he himselfe should shew,
Or fly away, or bide alone behind:
Both feare and hope he in her face did find,
When she at last him spying thus bespake;
Hayle Groome; didst not thou see a bleeding Hind,
Whose right haunch earst my stedfast arrow strake?
If thou didst, tell me, that I may her ouertake.
Wherewith reviu’d, this answere forth he threw; xxxiii
O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee)
For neither doth thy face terrestriall shew,
Nor voyce sound mortall; I auow to thee,
Such wounded beast, as that, I did not see,
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came.
But mote thy goodlyhed forgiue it mee,
To weet, which of the Gods I shall thee name,
That vnto thee due worship I may rightly frame.
To whom she thus; but ere her words ensewed, xxxiv
Vnto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce,
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewed,
And saw it stirre: she left her percing launce,
And towards gan a deadly shaft aduaunce,
In mind to marke the beast. At which sad stowre,
Trompart forth stept, to stay the mortall chaunce,
Out crying, O what euer heauenly powre,
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this deadly howre.
[Pg 203]
O stay thy hand,
[545] for yonder is no game
xxxvFor thy fierce arrowes, them to exercize,
But loe my Lord, my liege, whose warlike name
[546]Is farre renowmd through many bold emprize;
And now in shade he shrowded yonder lies.
She staid: with that he crauld out of his nest,
Forth creeping on his caitiue hands and thies,
And standing stoutly vp, his loftie crest
Did fiercely shake, and rowze, as comming late from rest.
As fearefull fowle, that long in secret caue xxxvi
For dread of soaring hauke her selfe hath hid,
Not caring how, her silly life to saue,
She her gay painted plumes disorderid,
Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid,
Peepes foorth,
[547] and soone renewes her natiue pride;
She gins her feathers foule disfigured
Proudly to prune, and set on euery side,
So shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst she did her hide.
So when her goodly visage he beheld, xxxvii
He gan himselfe to vaunt: but when he vewed
Those deadly tooles, which in her hand she held,
Soone into other fits he was transmewed,
Till she to him her gratious speach renewed;
All haile, Sir knight, and well may thee befall,
As all the like, which honour haue pursewed
Through deedes of armes and prowesse martiall;
All vertue merits praise, but such the most of all.
To whom he thus; O fairest vnder skie, xxxviii
True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise,
That warlike feats doest highest glorifie.
Therein haue I
[548] spent all my youthly daies,
And many battailes fought, and many fraies
Throughout the world, wher so they might be found,
Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise
Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound
In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround.
[Pg 204]
But what art thou, O Ladie, which doest raunge xxxix
In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is,
And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge,
Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis
And all delight does raigne, much more then this?
There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee,
And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis;
There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see:
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee.
Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she) xl
Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis,
Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee,
And in obliuion euer buried is:
Where ease abounds, yt’s eath to doe amis;
But who his limbs with labours, and his mind
Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis.
Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind
Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honor soonest find.
In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell, xli
And will be found with perill and with paine;
Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell,
Vnto her happie mansion attaine:
Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine,
And wakefull watches euer to abide:
But easie 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.
In Princes court, The rest she would haue said, xlii
But that the foolish man, fild with delight
Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid,
And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight,
Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light,
Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace.
With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright
Against him bent, and fiercely did menace:
So turned her about, and fled away apace.
[Pg 205]
Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood, xliii
And grieued
[549] at her flight; yet durst he not
Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood;
Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot:
Ne car’d he greatly for her presence vaine,
But turning said to Trompart, What foule blot
Is this to knight, that Ladie should againe
Depart to woods vntoucht, and leaue so proud disdaine?
Perdie (said Trompart) let her passe at will, xliv
Least by her presence daunger mote befall.
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill)
But that she is some powre celestiall?
For whiles she spake, her great words did apall
My feeble courage, and my hart oppresse,
That yet I quake and tremble ouer all.
And I (said Braggadocchio) thought no lesse,
When first I heard her horne sound with such ghastlinesse.
For from my mothers wombe this grace I haue xlv
Me giuen by eternall destinie,
That earthly thing may not my courage braue
Dismay with feare, or cause one
[550] foot to flie,
But either hellish feends, or powres on hie:
Which was the cause, when earst that horne I heard,
Weening it had beene thunder in the skie,
I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard;
But when I other knew, my selfe I boldly reard.
But now for feare of worse, that may betide, xlvi
Let vs soone hence depart. They soone agree;
So to his steed he got, and gan to ride,
As one vnfit therefore, that all might see
He had not trayned bene in cheualree.
Which well that valiant courser did discerne;
For he despysd to tread in dew degree,
But chaufd and fom’d, with courage fierce and sterne,
And to be easd of that base burden still did erne
[551].
Guyon does Furor bind in chaines,
and stops Occasion:
Deliuers Phedon[552], and therefore
by Strife[553] is rayld vpon.
In braue pursuit of honorable deed, i
There is I know not what
[554] great difference
Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed,
Which vnto things of valorous pretence
Seemes to be borne by natiue influence;
As feates of armes, and loue to entertaine,
But chiefly skill to ride, seemes a science
Proper to gentle bloud; some others faine
To menage steeds, as did this vaunter; but in vaine.
But he the rightfull owner of that steed, ii
Who well could menage and subdew his pride,
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed,
With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty guide;
Who suffred not his wandring feet to slide.
But when strong passion, or weake fleshlinesse
Would from the right way seeke to draw him wide,
He would through temperance and stedfastnesse,
Teach him the weake to strengthen, and the strong suppresse.
It fortuned forth faring on his way, iii
He saw from farre, or seemed for to see
Some troublous vprore or contentious fray,
Whereto he drew in haste it to agree.
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee,
Drew by the haire along vpon the ground,
A handsome stripling with great crueltee,
Whom sore he bett, and gor’d with many a wound,
That cheekes with teares, and sides with bloud did all abound.
[Pg 207]
And him behind, a wicked Hag did stalke, iv
In ragged robes, and filthy disaray,
Her other leg was lame, that she no’te walke,
[555]But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay;
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie gray,
Grew all afore, and loosely hong vnrold,
But all behind was bald, and worne away,
That none thereof could euer taken hold,
And eke her face ill fauourd, full of wrinckles old.
And euer as she went, her tongue did walke v
In foule reproch, and termes of vile despight,
Prouoking him by her outrageous talke,
To heape more vengeance on that wretched wight;
Sometimes she raught him stones, wherwith to smite,
Sometimes her staffe, though it her one leg were,
Withouten which she could not go vpright;
Ne any euill meanes she did forbeare,
That might him moue to wrath, and indignation reare.
The noble Guyon mou’d with great remorse, vi
Approching, first the Hag did thrust away,
And after adding more impetuous forse,
His mightie hands did on the madman lay,
And pluckt him backe; who all on fire streight way,
Against him turning all his fell intent,
With beastly brutish rage gan him assay,
And smot, and bit, and kickt, and scratcht, and rent,
And did he wist not what in his auengement.
And sure he was a man of mickle might, vii
Had he had gouernance, it well to guide:
But when the franticke fit inflamd his spright,
His force was vaine, and strooke more often wide,
Then at the aymed marke, which he had eide:
And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt vnwares,
Whilst reason blent through passion, nought descride,
But as a blindfold Bull at randon fares,
And where he hits, nought knowes, and whom he hurts, nought cares.
[Pg 208]
His rude assault and rugged handeling viii
Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye with foe
In faire defence and goodly menaging
Of armes was wont to fight, yet nathemoe
Was he abashed now not fighting so,
But more enfierced through his currish play,
Him sternely grypt, and haling to and fro,
To ouerthrow him strongly did assay,
But ouerthrew himselfe vnwares, and lower lay.
And being downe the villein sore did beat, ix
And bruze with clownish fistes his manly face:
And eke the Hag with many a bitter threat,
Still cald vpon to kill him in the place.
With whose reproch and odious menace
The knight emboyling in his haughtie hart,
Knit all his forces, and gan soone vnbrace
His grasping hold: so lightly did vpstart,
And drew his deadly weapon, to maintaine his part.
Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly cryde, x
Not so, O Guyon, neuer thinke that so
That Monster can be maistred or destroyd:
He is not
[556], ah, he is not such a foe,
As steele can wound, or strength can ouerthroe.
That same is Furor, cursed cruell wight,
That vnto knighthood workes much shame and woe;
And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight
Occasion, the root of all wrath and despight.
With her, who so will raging Furor tame, xi
Must first begin, and well her amenage:
First her restraine from her reprochfull blame,
And euill meanes, with which she doth enrage
Her franticke sonne, and kindles his courage,
Then when she is withdrawen, or strong withstood,
It’s eath his idle furie to asswage,
And calme the tempest of his passion wood;
The bankes are ouerflowen, when stopped is the flood.
[Pg 209]
Therewith Sir Guyon left his first emprise, xii
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 reuilement,
But still prouokt her sonne to wreake her wrong;
But nathelesse he did her still torment,
And catching hold of her vngratious tong
[557],
Thereon an yron lock
[558] did fasten firme and strong.
Then when as vse of speach was from her reft, xiii
With her two crooked handes she signes did make,
And beckned him, the last helpe she had left:
But he that last left helpe away did take,
And both her hands fast bound vnto a stake,
That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne to flie
Full fast away, and did her quite forsake;
But Guyon after him in haste did hie,
And soone him ouertooke in sad perplexitie.
In his strong armes he stiffely him embraste, xiv
Who him gainstriuing, nought at all preuaild:
For all his power was vtterly defaste,
And furious fits at earst quite weren quaild:
Oft he re’nforst, and oft his forces fayld,
Yet yield he would not, nor his rancour slacke.
Then him to ground he cast, and rudely hayld,
And both his hands fast bound behind his backe,
And both his feet in fetters to an yron racke.
With hundred yron chaines he did him bind, xv
And hundred knots that did him sore constraine:
Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind,
And grimly gnash, threatning reuenge in vaine;
His burning eyen, whom bloudie strakes did staine,
Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes of fire,
And more for ranck despight, then for great paine,
Shakt his long lockes, colourd like copper-wire,
And bit his tawny beard to shew his raging ire.
[Pg 210]
Thus when as Guyon Furor had captiu’d, xvi
Turning about he saw that wretched Squire,
Whom that mad man of life nigh late depriu’d,
Lying on ground, all soild with bloud and mire:
Whom when as he perceiued to respire,
He gan to comfort, and his wounds to dresse.
Being at last recured, he gan inquire,
What hard mishap him brought to such distresse,
And made that caitiues thral, the thral of wretchednesse.
With hart then throbbing, and with watry eyes, xvii
Faire Sir (quoth he) what man can shun the hap,
That hidden lyes vnwares him to surpryse?
[559]Misfortune waites aduantage to entrap
The man most warie in her whelming lap.
So me weake wretch, of many weakest one
[560],
Vnweeting, and vnware of such mishap,
She brought to mischiefe through occasion
[561],
Where this same wicked villein did me light vpon
[562].
It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the sourse xviii
Of all my sorrow, and of these sad teares,
With whom from tender dug of commune nourse,
Attonce I was vpbrought, and eft when yeares
More rype vs reason lent to chose our Peares,
Our selues in league of vowed loue we knit:
In which we long time without gealous feares,
Or
[563] faultie thoughts continewd, as was fit;
And for my part I vow, dissembled not a whit.
It was my fortune commune to that age, xix
To loue a Ladie faire of great degree,
The which was borne of noble parentage,
And set in highest seat of dignitee,
Yet seemd no lesse to loue, then loued to bee:
Long I her seru’d, and found her faithfull still,
Ne euer thing could cause vs disagree:
Loue that two harts makes one,
[564] makes eke one will:
Each stroue to please, and others pleasure to fulfill.
[Pg 211]
My friend, hight
Philemon, I did partake
[565] xxOf all my loue and all my priuitie;
Who greatly ioyous seemed for my sake,
And gratious to that Ladie, as to mee,
Ne euer wight, that mote so welcome bee,
As he to her, withouten blot or blame,
Ne euer thing, that she could thinke or see,
But vnto 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, xxi
That I that Ladie to my spouse had wonne;
Accord of friends, consent of parents sought,
Affiance made, my happinesse begonne,
There wanted nought but few rites to be donne,
Which mariage make; that day too farre did seeme:
Most ioyous man, on whom the shining Sunne
[566]Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme,
And that my falser friend did no lesse ioyous deeme.
But ere
[567] that wished day his beame disclosd,
xxiiHe either enuying my toward good,
Or of himselfe to treason ill disposd,
[568]One day vnto me came in friendly mood,
And told for secret how he vnderstood
That Ladie whom I had to me assynd,
Had both distaind her honorable blood,
And eke the faith, which she to me did bynd;
And therfore wisht me stay, till I more truth should fynd.
The gnawing anguish and sharpe gelosy, xxiii
Which his sad speech infixed in my brest,
Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly,
That my engreeued mind could find no rest,
Till that the truth thereof I did outwrest,
And him besought by that same sacred band
Betwixt vs both, to counsell me the best.
He then with solemne oath and plighted hand
Assur’d, ere long the truth to let me vnderstand.
[Pg 212]
Ere long with like againe he boorded mee, xxiv
Saying, he now had boulted all the floure,
And that it was a groome of base degree,
Which of my loue was partner Paramoure:
Who vsed in a darkesome inner bowre
Her oft to meet: which better to approue,
He promised to bring me at that howre,
When I should see, that would me nearer moue,
And driue me to withdraw my blind abused loue.
This gracelesse man for furtherance of his guile, xxv
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,
He woo’d her thus: Pryene (so she hight)
What great despight doth fortune to thee beare,
Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright,
That it should not deface all others lesser light?
But if she had her least helpe to thee lent, xxvi
T’adorne thy forme according thy desart,
Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone haue blent,
And staynd their prayses with thy least good part;
Ne should faire Claribell with all her art,
Though she thy Lady be, approch thee neare:
For proofe thereof, this euening, as thou art,
Aray thy selfe in her most gorgeous geare,
That I may more delight in thy embracement deare.
The Maiden proud through prayse, and mad through loue xxvii
Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe arayd,
The whiles to me the treachour did remoue
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 owne false part playd,
Disguised like that groome of base degree,
Whom he had feignd th’abuser of my loue to bee.
[Pg 213]
Eftsoones he came vnto th’appointed place, xxviii
And with him brought
Pryene,
[569] rich arayd,
In Claribellaes clothes. Her proper face
I not descerned
[570] in that darkesome shade,
But weend it was my loue, with whom he playd.
Ah God, what horrour and tormenting griefe
My hart, my hands, mine eyes, and all assayd?
Me liefer were ten thousand deathes
[571] priefe,
Then wound of gealous worme, and shame of such repriefe.
I home returning, fraught with fowle despight, xxix
And chawing vengeance all the way I went,
Soone as my loathed loue 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 euident,
Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale did breede,
Confest, how Philemon her wrought to chaunge her weede.
Which when I heard, with horrible affright xxx
And hellish fury all enragd, I sought
Vpon my selfe that vengeable despight
To punish: yet it better first I thought,
To wreake my wrath on him, that first it wrought.
To Philemon, false faytour Philemon
I cast to pay, that I so dearely bought;
Of deadly drugs I gaue him drinke anon,
And washt away his guilt with guiltie potion.
Thus heaping crime on crime, and griefe on griefe, xxxi
To losse of loue adioyning losse of frend,
I meant to purge both with a third mischiefe,
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 pursewing my fell purpose, after went.
[Pg 214]
Feare gaue her wings, and rage enforst my flight; xxxii
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 pursewd apace,
And shortly ouertooke: I,
[572] 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 haue me doen to dye, xxxiii
Through wounds, and strokes, and stubborne handeling,
That death were better, then such agony,
As griefe and furie vnto me did bring;
Of which in me yet stickes the mortall sting,
That during life will neuer be appeasd.
When he thus ended had his sorrowing,
Said Guyon, Squire, sore haue ye beene diseasd;
But all your hurts may soone through temperance be easd.
Then gan the Palmer thus, Most
[573] wretched man,
xxxivThat to affections does the bridle lend;
In their beginning they are weake and wan,
But soone through suff’rance grow 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 ouerthrow:
Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue this Squire haue layd thus low.
Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue do thus expell: xxxv
Wrath is a fire, and gealosie a weede,
Griefe is a flood, and loue 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,
[574]The drops dry vp, and filth wipe cleane away:
So shall wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue dye and decay.
[Pg 215]
Vnlucky Squire (said Guyon) sith thou hast xxxvi
Falne into
[575] mischiefe through intemperaunce,
Henceforth take heede of that thou now hast past,
And guide thy wayes with warie gouernaunce,
Least worse betide thee by some later chaunce.
But read how art thou nam’d, and of what kin.
Phedon[576] I hight (quoth he) and do aduaunce
Mine auncestry from famous Coradin,
Who first to rayse our house to honour did begin.
Thus as he spake, lo far away they spyde xxxvii
A varlet running towards hastily,
Whose flying feet so fast their way applyde,
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 eyglaunce at him shot.
Behind his backe he bore a brasen shield, xxxviii
On which was drawen faire, in colours fit,
A flaming fire in midst of bloudy field,
And round about the wreath this word was writ,
Burnt I do burne. Right well beseemed it,
To be the shield of some redoubted knight;
And in his hand two darts exceeding flit,
And deadly sharpe he held, whose heads were dight
In poyson and in bloud, of malice and despight.
When he in presence came, to Guyon first xxxix
He boldly spake, Sir knight, if knight thou bee,
Abandon this forestalled place at erst,
For feare of further harme, I counsell thee,
Or bide the chaunce at thine owne ieoperdie.
The knight at his great boldnesse wondered,
And though he scornd his idle vanitie,
Yet mildly him to purpose answered;
For not to grow of nought he it coniectured.
[Pg 216]
Varlet, this place most dew to me I deeme, xl
Yielded by him, that held it forcibly.
But whence should come that harme, which thou doest seeme
To threat to him, that minds his chaunce t’abye?
Perdy (said he) here comes, and is hard by
A knight of wondrous powre, and great assay,
That neuer yet encountred enemy,
But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dismay;
Ne thou for better hope, if thou his presence stay.
How hight he then (said Guyon) and from whence? xli
Pyrochles[577] is his name, renowmed farre
For his bold feats and hardy confidence,
Full oft approu’d in many a cruell warre,
The brother of Cymochles, both which arre
The sonnes of old Acrates and Despight,
Acrates sonne of Phlegeton and Iarre;
But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and Night;
But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is hight.
So from immortall race he does proceede, xlii
That mortall hands may not withstand his might,
Drad for his derring do, and bloudy deed;
For all in bloud and spoile is his delight.
His am I Atin, his in wrong and right,
That matter make for him to worke vpon,
And stirre him vp to strife and cruell fight.
Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon,
Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad confusion.
His be that care, whom most it doth concerne, xliii
(Said he) but whither with such hasty flight
Art thou now bound? for well mote I discerne
Great cause, that carries thee so swift and light.
My Lord (quoth he) me sent, and streight behight
To seeke
Occasion,
[578] where so she bee:
For he is all disposd to bloudy fight,
And breathes out wrath and hainous crueltie;
Hard is his hap, that first fals in his ieopardie.
[Pg 217]
Madman (said then the Palmer) that does seeke xliv
Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife;
She comes vnsought, and shonned followes eke.
Happy, who can abstaine, when Rancour rife
Kindles Reuenge, and threats his rusty knife;
Woe neuer wants, where euery cause is caught,
And rash Occasion makes vnquiet life.
Then loe, where bound she sits, whom thou hast sought,
(Said Guyon,) let that message to thy Lord be brought.
That when the varlet heard and saw, streight way xlv
He wexed wondrous wroth, and said, Vile knight,
That knights and knighthood doest with shame vpbray,
And shewst th’ensample of thy childish might,
With silly weake old woman thus to
[579] fight.
Great glory and gay spoile sure hast thou got,
And stoutly prou’d thy puissaunce here in sight;
That shall Pyrochles well requite, I wot,
And with thy bloud abolish so reprochfull blot.
With that one of his thrillant darts he threw, xlvi
Headed with ire and vengeable despight;
The quiuering steele his aymed end well knew,
And to his brest it selfe intended right:
But he was warie, and ere it empight
In the meant marke, aduaunst his shield atweene,
On which it seizing, no way enter might,
But backe rebounding, left the forckhead keene;
Eftsoones he fled away, and might no where be seene.
Pyrochles does with Guyon fight,
And Furors chayne vnbinds:[580]
Of whom sore hurt, for his reuenge
Atin Cymochles finds.[581]
Who euer doth to temperaunce apply i
His stedfast life, and all his actions frame,
Trust me, shall find no greater enimy,
Then stubborne perturbation, to the same;
To which right well the wise do giue that name,
For it the goodly peace of stayed mindes
Does ouerthrow, and troublous warre proclame:
His owne woes authour, who so bound it findes,
As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully vnbindes.
After that varlets flight, it was not long, ii
Ere on the plaine fast pricking Guyon spide
One in bright armes embatteiled full strong,
That as the Sunny beames do glaunce and glide
Vpon the trembling waue, so shined bright,
And round about him threw forth sparkling fire,
That seemd him to enflame on euery side:
His steed was bloudy red, and fomed ire,
When with the maistring spur he did him roughly stire.
Approching nigh, he neuer stayd to greete, iii
Ne chaffar
[582] words, prowd courage to prouoke,
But prickt so fiers, that vnderneath his feete
The smouldring dust did round about him smoke,
Both horse and man nigh able for to choke;
And fairly couching his steele-headed speare,
Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke;
It booted nought Sir Guyon comming neare
To thinke, such hideous puissaunce on foot to beare.
[Pg 219]
But lightly shunned it, and passing by, iv
With his bright blade did smite at him so fell,
That the sharpe steele arriuing forcibly
On his broad shield, bit not, but glauncing fell
On his horse necke before the quilted sell,
[583]And from the head the body sundred quight.
So him dismounted low, he did compell
On foot with him to matchen equall fight;
The truncked beast fast bleeding, did him fowly dight.
Sore bruzed with the fall, he slow vprose, v
And all enraged, thus him loudly shent;
Disleall knight, whose coward courage chose
To wreake it selfe on beast all innocent,
And shund the marke, at which it should be ment,
Thereby thine armes seeme strong, but manhood fraile;
So hast thou oft with guile thine honour blent;
But litle may such guile thee now auaile,
If wonted force and fortune do not much me faile
[584].
With that he drew his flaming sword, and strooke vi
At him so fiercely, that the vpper marge
Of his seuenfolded 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 soule from thence it would discharge;
Nathelesse so sore a buff to him it lent,
That made him reele, and to his brest his beuer bent.
Exceeding wroth was Guyon at that blow, vii
And much ashamd, that stroke of liuing 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 steele stayd not, but inly bate
Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red floodgate.
[Pg 220]
Deadly dismayd, with horrour of that dint viii
Pyrochles was, and grieued eke entyre;
Yet nathemore did it his fury stint,
But added flame vnto his former fire,
That welnigh molt his hart in raging yre,
Ne thenceforth his approued skill, to ward,
Or strike, or hurtle
[585] round in warlike
[586] 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 thundred blowes, ix
And euery way did seeke into his life,
Ne plate, ne male could ward so mighty throwes,
But yielded passage to his cruell knife.
But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife,
Was warie wise, and closely did awayt
Auauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife;
Sometimes a thwart, sometimes he strooke him strayt,
And falsed oft his blowes, t’illude him with such bayt.
Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre x
A prowd rebellious Vnicorne defies,
T’auoide the rash assault and wrathfull stowre
Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applies,
And when him running in full course he spies,
He slips aside; the whiles that furious beast
His precious horne, sought of his enimies
[587],
Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast
[588],
But to the mighty victour yields a bounteous feast.
With such faire slight him Guyon often faild, xi
Till at the last all breathlesse, wearie, faint
Him spying, with fresh onset he assaild,
And kindling new his courage seeming queint,
Strooke him so hugely, that through great constraint
He made him stoup perforce vnto his knee,
And do vnwilling worship to the Saint,
That on his shield depainted he did see;
Such homage till that instant neuer learned hee.
[Pg 221]
Whom Guyon seeing stoup, pursewed fast xii
The present offer of faire victory,
And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast,
Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye,
That streight on ground made him full low to lye;
Then on his brest his victour foote he thrust,
With that he cryde, Mercy, do me not dye,
Ne deeme thy force by
[589] fortunes doome vniust,
That hath (maugre her spight) thus low me laid in dust.
Eftsoones his cruell hand Sir Guyon stayd, xiii
Tempring the passion with aduizement slow,
And maistring might on enimy dismayd:
For th’equall dye of warre he well did know;
Then to him said, Liue and allegaunce owe,
To him that giues thee life and libertie,
And henceforth by this dayes ensample trow,
That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardrie
Do breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamie.
So vp he let him rise, who with grim looke xiv
And count’naunce sterne vpstanding, gan to grind
His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke
His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind,
Knotted in bloud and dust, for griefe of mind,
That he in ods of armes was conquered;
Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find,
That him so noble knight had maistered,
Whose bounty more then might, yet both he wondered.
Which Guyon marking said, Be nought agrieu’d, xv
Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed arre:
Was neuer man, who most conquestes atchieu’d,
[590]But sometimes had the worse, and lost by warre,
Yet shortly gaynd, that losse exceeded farre:
Losse is no shame, nor to be lesse then foe,
But to be lesser, then himselfe, doth marre
Both loosers lot, and victours prayse alsoe.
Vaine others ouerthrowes, who selfe
[591] doth ouerthrowe.
[Pg 222]
Fly, O Pyrochles, fly the dreadfull warre, xvi
That in thy selfe thy lesser parts do moue,
Outrageous anger, and woe-working iarre,
Direfull impatience, and hart murdring loue;
Those, those thy foes, those warriours far remoue,
Which thee to endlesse bale captiued lead.
But sith in might thou didst my mercy proue,
Of curtesie to me the cause aread,
[592]That thee against me drew with so impetuous dread.
Dreadlesse (said he) that shall I soone declare: xvii
It was complaind, that thou hadst done great tort
Vnto an aged woman, poore and bare,
And thralled her in chaines with strong effort,
Voide of all succour and needfull 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[593] free,
And to her captiue sonne yield his first libertee.
Thereat Sir Guyon smilde, And is that all xviii
(Said he) that thee so sore displeased hath?
Great mercy sure, for to enlarge a thrall,
Whose freedome shall thee turne to greatest scath.
Nath’lesse now quench thy whot emboyling
[594] wrath:
Loe there they be; 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 captiuitee.
Soone as Occasion felt her selfe vntyde, xix
Before her sonne could well assoyled bee,
She to her vse returnd, and streight defyde
Both
Guyon and
Pyrochles: th’one (said shee
[595])
Bycause he wonne; the other because hee
Was wonne: So matter did she make of nought,
To stirre vp strife, and do
[596] them disagree:
But soone as Furor was enlargd, she sought
To kindle his quencht fire, and thousand causes wrought.
[Pg 223]
It was not long, ere she inflam’d him so, xx
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 fiers engrasped bee,
Whiles Guyon standing by, their vncouth strife does see.
Him all that while Occasion did prouoke xxi
Against Pyrochles, and new matter framed
Vpon the old, him stirring to be wroke
Of his late wrongs, in which she oft him blamed
For suffering such abuse, as knighthood shamed,
And him dishabled quite. But he was wise
Ne would with vaine occasions
[597] be inflamed;
Yet others she more vrgent did deuise:
Yet nothing could him to impatience entise.
Their fell contention still increased more, xxii
And more thereby increased Furors might,
That he his foe has hurt, and wounded sore,
And him in bloud and durt deformed quight.
His mother eke, more to augment his spight
[598],
Now brought to him a flaming fire
[599] brond,
Which she in
Stygian lake, ay burning bright,
[600]Had kindled: that she gaue into his hond,
That armd with fire, more hardly he mote him withstond.
Tho gan that
[601] villein wex so fiers and strong,
xxiiiThat nothing might sustaine his furious forse;
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 disdeignd so loathly sight.
At last he was compeld to cry perforse,
Helpe, O Sir Guyon, helpe most noble knight,
To rid a wretched man from hands of hellish wight.
[Pg 224]
The knight was greatly moued at his plaint, xxiv
And gan him dight to succour his distresse,
Till that the Palmer, by his graue restraint,
Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse;
And said, Deare sonne, thy causelesse ruth represse,
Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne:
He that his sorrow sought through wilfulnesse,
And his foe fettred would release agayne,
[602]Deserues to tast his follies fruit, repented payne.
Guyon obayd; So him away he drew xxv
From needlesse trouble of renewing fight
Already fought, his voyage to pursew.
But rash Pyrochles varlet, Atin hight,
When late he saw his Lord in heauy plight,
Vnder Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to fall,
Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in sight,
Fled fast away, to tell his funerall
Vnto his brother, whom Cymochles men did call.
He was a man of rare redoubted might, xxvi
Famous throughout the world for warlike prayse,
And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous fight:
Full many doughtie knights 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 conquered armes for more defame
On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest Dame.
His dearest Dame is that Enchaunteresse, xxvii
The vile Acrasia, that with vaine delightes,
And idle pleasures in her
[603] Bowre of
Blisse,
Does charme her louers, and the feeble sprightes
Can call out of the bodies of fraile wightes:
Whom then she does transforme
[604] to monstrous hewes,
And horribly misshapes with vgly sightes,
Captiu’d eternally in yron mewes,
And darksom dens, where Titan his face neuer shewes.
[Pg 225]
There Atin found Cymochles soiourning, xxviii
To serue his Lemans loue: for he,
[605] by kind,
Was giuen all to lust and loose liuing,
When euer his fiers hands he free mote find:
And now he has pourd out his idle mind
In daintie delices, and lauish ioyes,
Hauing his warlike weapons cast behind,
And flowes in pleasures, and vaine pleasing toyes,
Mingled emongst loose Ladies and lasciuious boyes.
And ouer him, art striuing to compaire xxix
With nature, did an Arber greene dispred,
Framed of wanton Yuie, flouring faire,
Through which the fragrant Eglantine did spred
His pricking
[606] armes, entrayld with roses red,
Which daintie odours round about them threw,
And all within with flowres was garnished,
That when myld Zephyrus emongst them blew,
Did breath out bounteous smels, and painted colors shew.
And fast beside, there trickled softly downe xxx
A gentle streame, whose murmuring waue did play
Emongst the pumy stones, and made a sowne,
To lull him soft a sleepe, that by it lay;
The wearie Traueiler, 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 paine, and wypt away his toylsom sweat.
And on the other side a pleasaunt groue xxxi
Was shot vp high, full of the stately tree,
That dedicated is t’Olympicke Ioue,
And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee
Gaynd in
Nemea[607] goodly victoree;
Therein the mery birds of euery sort
Chaunted alowd their chearefull harmonie:
And made emongst them selues a sweet consort,
That quickned the dull spright with musicall comfort.
[Pg 226]
There he him found all carelesly displayd, xxxii
In secret shadow from the sunny ray,
On a sweet bed of lillies softly layd,
Amidst a flocke of Damzels fresh and gay,
That round about him dissolute did play
Their wanton follies, and light meriment;
Euery of which did loosely disaray
Her vpper parts of meet habiliments,
And shewd them naked, deckt with many ornaments.
And euery of them stroue, with most delights, xxxiii
Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures shew;
Some framd faire lookes, glancing like euening lights,
[608]Others sweet words, dropping like honny dew;
Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew
The sugred licour through his melting lips:
One boastes her beautie, and does yeeld to vew
Her daintie limbes aboue her tender hips;
Another her out boastes, and all for tryall strips.
He, like an Adder, lurking in the weeds, xxxiv
His wandring thought in deepe desire does steepe,
And his fraile eye with spoyle of beautie feedes;
Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to sleepe,
Whiles through their lids his wanton eies do peepe,
To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt
[609],
Whereby close fire into his heart does creepe:
So, them
[610] deceiues, deceiu’d in his deceipt,
Made drunke with drugs of deare voluptuous receipt.
Atin arriuing there, when him he spide, xxxv
Thus in still waues of deepe delight to wade,
Fiercely approching, to him lowdly cride,
Cymochles; oh no, but Cymochles shade,
In which that manly person late did fade,
What is become of great Acrates sonne?
Or where hath he hong vp his mortall blade,
That hath so many haughtie conquests wonne?
Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory donne?
[Pg 227]
Then pricking him with his sharpe-pointed dart, xxxvi
He said; Vp,
[611] vp, thou womanish weake knight,
That here in Ladies lap entombed art,
Vnmindfull of thy praise and prowest might,
And weetlesse eke of lately wrought despight,
Whiles sad Pyrochles lies on senselesse ground,
And groneth out his vtmost grudging spright,
Through many a stroke, and many a streaming wound,
Calling thy helpe in vaine, that here in ioyes art dround.
Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame xxxvii
The man awoke, and would haue questiond more;
But he would not endure that wofull theame
For to dilate at large, but vrged sore
With percing words, and pittifull implore,
Him hastie to arise. As one affright
With hellish feends, or Furies mad vprore,
He then vprose, inflam’d with fell despight,
And called for his armes; for he would algates fight.
They bene ybrought; he quickly does him dight, xxxviii
And lightly mounted, passeth on his way,
Ne Ladies loues, ne sweete entreaties might
Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay;
For he has vowd, to beene aueng’d 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 aie him pricks with spurs of shame and wrong.
Guyon is of immodest Merth[612]
led into loose desire,
Fights with Cymochles, whiles his brother
burnes in furious fire.
A Harder lesson, to learne Continence i
In ioyous pleasure, then in grieuous paine:
For sweetnesse doth allure the weaker sence
So strongly, that vneathes it can refraine
From that, which feeble nature couets faine;
But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies,
And foes of life, she better can restraine
[613];
Yet vertue vauntes in both their
[614] victories,
And Guyon in them all shewes goodly maisteries.
Whom bold Cymochles trauelling to find, ii
With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him
The wrath, which Atin kindled in his mind,
Came to a riuer, by whose vtmost brim
Wayting to passe, he saw whereas did swim
A long the shore, as swift as glaunce of eye,
A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim
With boughes and arbours wouen cunningly,
That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly.
And therein sate a Ladie fresh and faire, iii
Making sweet solace to her selfe alone;
Sometimes she sung, as loud as larke in aire,
Sometimes she laught, that nigh her breth was gone,
[615]Yet was there not with her else any one,
That might to her
[616] moue cause of meriment:
Matter of merth enough, though there were none,
[617]She could deuise, and thousand waies inuent,
To feede her foolish humour, and vaine iolliment.
[Pg 229]
Which when farre off Cymochles heard, and saw, iv
He loudly cald to such, as were a bord,
The little barke vnto the shore to draw,
And him to ferrie ouer that deepe ford:
The merry marriner vnto his word
Soone hearkned, and her painted bote streightway
Turnd to the shore, where that same warlike Lord
She in receiu’d; but Atin by no way
She would admit, albe the knight her much did pray.
Eftsoones her shallow ship away did slide, v
More swift, then swallow sheres the liquid skie,
Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide,
Or winged canuas with the wind to flie,
Only she turn’d a pin, and by and by
It cut away vpon the yielding waue,
Ne cared she her course for to apply:
For it was taught the way, which she would haue,
And both from rocks and flats it selfe could wisely saue.
And all the way, the wanton Damzell found vi
New merth, her passenger to entertaine:
For she in pleasant purpose did abound,
And greatly ioyed merry tales to faine,
Of which a store-house did with her remaine,
Yet seemed, nothing well they her became;
For all her words she drownd with laughter vaine,
And wanted grace in vtt’ring of the same,
That turned all her pleasance to a scoffing game.
And other whiles vaine toyes she would deuize vii
As her fantasticke wit did most delight,
Sometimes her head she fondly would aguize
With gaudie girlonds, or fresh flowrets dight
About her necke, or rings of rushes plight;
Sometimes to doe him laugh, she would assay
To laugh at shaking of
[618] the leaues light,
Or to behold the water worke, and play
About her litle frigot, therein making way.
[Pg 230]
Her light behauiour, and loose dalliaunce viii
Gaue wondrous great contentment to the knight,
That of his way he had no souenaunce,
Nor care of vow’d reuenge, and cruell fight,
But to weake wench did yeeld his martiall might.
So easie was to quench his flamed mind
With one sweet drop of sensuall delight,
[619]So easie is, t’appease the stormie wind
Of malice in the calme of pleasant womankind.
Diuerse discourses in their way they spent, ix
Mongst which Cymochles of her questioned,
Both what she was, and what that vsage ment,
Which in her cot she daily practised.
Vaine man (said she) that wouldest be reckoned
A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt
Of Phædria (for so my name is red)
Of Phædria, thine owne fellow seruaunt;
For thou to serue Acrasia thy selfe doest vaunt.
In this wide Inland sea, that hight by name x
The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row,
That knowes her port, and thither sailes by ayme,
Ne care, ne feare I, how the wind do blow,
Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow:
Both slow and swift a like do serue my tourne,
Ne swelling Neptune, ne loud thundring Ioue
Can chaunge my cheare, or make me euer mourne;
My litle boat can safely passe this perilous bourne.
Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus she toyd, xi
They were farre past the passage, which he spake,
And come vnto an Island, waste and voyd,
That floted in the midst of that great lake,
There her small Gondelay her port did make,
And that gay paire issuing on the shore
Disburdned her. Their way they forward take
Into the land, that lay them faire before,
Whose pleasaunce she him shew’d, and plentifull great store.
[Pg 231]
It was a chosen plot of fertile land, xii
Emongst wide waues set, like a litle nest,
As if it had by Natures cunning hand
[620]Bene choisely picked out from all the rest,
And laid forth for ensample of the best:
No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground,
No arboret with painted blossomes drest,
And smelling sweet, but there it might be found
To bud out faire, and her sweet smels throw
[621] all around.
No tree, whose braunches did not brauely spring; xiii
No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sit:
No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
No song but did containe a louely dit:
Trees, braunches, birds, and songs were framed fit,
For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.
Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake wit
Was ouercome of thing, that did him please;
So pleased, did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.
Thus when she had his eyes and senses fed xiv
With false delights, and fild with pleasures vaine,
Into a shadie dale she soft him led,
And laid him downe vpon a grassie plaine;
And her sweet selfe without dread, or disdaine,
She set beside, laying his head disarm’d
In her loose lap, it softly to sustaine,
Where soone he slumbred, fearing not be harm’d,
The whiles with a loud
[622] lay she thus him sweetly charm’d.
Behold, O man, that toilesome paines doest take,
[623] xvThe flowres, the fields, and all that pleasant growes,
How they themselues doe thine ensample make,
Whiles nothing enuious nature them forth throwes
Out of her fruitfull lap; how, no man
[624] knowes,
They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh and faire,
And deck the world with their rich pompous showes;
Yet no man for them taketh paines or care,
Yet no man to them can his carefull paines compare.
[Pg 232]
The lilly, Ladie of the flowring field, xvi
The Flowre-deluce, her louely Paramoure,
Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labours yield,
And soone leaue off this toylesome wearie stoure;
Loe loe how braue she decks her bounteous boure,
With silken curtens and gold couerlets,
Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Belamoure,
Yet neither spinnes nor cardes, ne cares nor frets,
But to her mother Nature all her care she lets.
Why then dost thou, O man, that of them all xvii
Art Lord, and eke of nature Soueraine,
Wilfully make thy selfe a wretched thrall,
And wast thy ioyous houres in needlesse paine,
Seeking for daunger and aduentures vaine?
What bootes it all to haue, and nothing vse?
Who shall him rew, that swimming in the maine,
Will die for thirst
[625], and water doth refuse?
Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present pleasures chuse.
By this she had him lulled fast a sleepe, xviii
That of no worldly
[626] thing he care did take;
Then she with liquors strong his eyes did steepe,
That nothing should him hastily awake:
So she him left, and did her selfe betake
Vnto her boat againe, with which she cleft
The slouthfull waue
[627] of that great griesly
[628] lake;
Soone she that Island farre behind her left,
And now is come to that same place, where first she weft.
By this time was the worthy Guyon brought xix
Vnto the other side of that wide strond,
Where she was rowing, and for passage sought:
Him needed not long call, she soone to hond
Her ferry brought, where him she byding fond,
With his sad guide; himselfe she tooke a boord,
But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to stond,
Ne would for price, or prayers once affoord,
To ferry that old man ouer the perlous foord.
[Pg 233]
Guyon was loath to leaue his guide behind, xx
Yet being entred, might not backe retyre;
For the flit barke, obaying to her mind,
Forth launched quickly, as she did desire,
Ne gaue him leaue to bid that aged sire
Adieu, but nimbly ran her wonted course
Through the dull billowes thicke as troubled mire,
Whom neither wind out of their seat could forse,
Nor timely tides did driue out of their sluggish sourse.
And by the way, as was her wonted guize, xxi
Her merry fit she freshly gan to reare,
And did of ioy and iollitie deuize,
Her selfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare:
The knight was courteous, and did not forbeare
Her honest merth and pleasaunce to partake;
But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and geare,
And passe the bonds
[629] of modest merimake,
Her dalliance he despisd, and follies did forsake.
Yet she still followed her former stile, xxii
And said, and did all that mote him delight,
Till they arriued in that pleasant Ile,
Where sleeping late she left her other knight.
But when as Guyon of that land had sight,
He wist himselfe amisse, and angry said;
Ah Dame, perdie ye haue not doen me right,
Thus to mislead me, whiles I you obaid:
Me litle needed from my right way to haue straid.
Faire Sir (quoth she) be not displeasd at all; xxiii
Who fares on sea, may not commaund his way,
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call:
The sea is wide, and easie for to stray;
The wind vnstable, and doth neuer stay.
But here a while ye may in safety rest,
Till season serue new passage to assay;
Better safe port, then be in seas distrest.
Therewith she laught, and did her earnest end in iest.
[Pg 234]
But he halfe discontent, mote nathelesse xxiv
Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on shore:
The ioyes whereof, and happie fruitfulnesse,
Such as he saw,
[630] she gan him lay before,
And all though pleasant, yet she made much more:
The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly spring,
The trees did bud, and earely blossomes bore,
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing,
And told that gardins pleasures in their caroling.
And she more sweet, then any bird on bough, xxv
Would oftentimes emongst them beare a part,
And striue to passe (as she could well enough)
Their natiue musicke by her skilfull art:
So did she all, that might his constant hart
Withdraw from thought of warlike enterprize,
And drowne in dissolute delights apart,
Where noyse of armes, or vew of martiall guize
Might not reuiue desire of knightly exercize.
But he was wise, and warie of her will, xxvi
And euer held his hand vpon his hart:
Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed ill,
As to despise so courteous seeming part,
That gentle Ladie did to him impart,
But fairely tempring fond desire subdewd,
And euer her desired to depart.
She list not heare, but her disports poursewd,
And euer bad him stay, till time the tide renewd.
And now by this, Cymochles howre was spent, xxvii
That he awoke out of his idle dreme,
And shaking off his drowzie dreriment,
Gan him auize, how ill did him beseeme,
In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to steme,
And quench the brond of his conceiued ire.
Tho vp he started, stird with shame extreme,
Ne staied for his Damzell to inquire,
But marched to the strond, there
[631] passage to require.
[Pg 235]
And in the way he with Sir Guyon met, xxviii
Accompanyde with Phædria the faire,
Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly fret,
Crying, Let be that Ladie debonaire,
Thou recreant knight, and soone thy selfe prepaire
To battell, if thou meane her loue to gaine:
Loe, loe alreadie, how the fowles in aire
Doe flocke, awaiting shortly to obtaine
Thy carcasse for their pray, the guerdon of thy paine.
And therewithall he fiercely at him flew, xxix
And with importune
[632] outrage him assayld;
Who soone prepard to field, his sword forth drew,
And him with equall value counteruayld:
Their mightie strokes their haberieons 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 streme adown their giambeux falles.
Cymochles, that had neuer met before
[633] xxx
So puissant foe, with enuious despight
His proud presumed force increased more,
Disdeigning to be held so long in fight;
Sir Guyon grudging not so much his might,
As those vnknightly raylings, which he spoke,
With wrathfull fire his courage kindled bright,
Thereof deuising shortly to be wroke,
And doubling all his powres, redoubled euery stroke.
Both of them high attonce their hands enhaunst, xxxi
And both attonce their huge blowes downe did sway;
Cymochles sword on Guyons shield yglaunst,
And thereof nigh one quarter sheard away;
But Guyons angry blade so fierce did play
On th’others helmet, which as Titan shone,
That quite it cloue his plumed crest in tway,
And bared all his head vnto the bone;
Wherewith astonisht, still he stood, as senselesse stone.
[Pg 236]
Still as he stood, faire Phædria, that beheld xxxii
That deadly daunger, soone atweene them ran;
And at their feet her selfe most humbly feld,
Crying with pitteous voice, and count’nance wan;
Ah well away, most noble Lords, how can
Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight,
To shed your liues on ground? wo worth the man,
That first did teach the cursed steele to bight
In his owne flesh, and make way to the liuing spright.
If euer loue of Ladie did empierce xxxiii
Your yron brestes, or pittie could find place,
Withhold your bloudie hands from battell fierce,
And sith for me ye fight, to me this grace
Both yeeld, to stay your deadly strife a space.
They stayd a while: and forth she gan proceed:
Most wretched woman, and of wicked race,
That am the author of this hainous deed,
And cause of death betweene two doughtie knights doe breed.
But if for me ye fight, or me will serue, xxxiv
Not this rude kind of battell, nor these armes
Are meet, the which doe men in bale to sterue,
And dolefull sorrow heape with deadly harmes:
Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes:
Another warre, and other weapons I
Doe loue, where loue does giue his sweet alarmes,
Without bloudshed, and where the enemy
Does yeeld vnto his foe a pleasant victory.
Debatefull strife, and cruell enmitie xxxv
The famous name of knighthood fowly shend
[634];
But louely peace, and gentle amitie,
And in Amours the passing houres to spend,
The mightie martiall hands doe most commend;
Of loue they euer greater glory bore,
Then of their armes: Mars is Cupidoes frend,
And is for Venus loues renowmed more,
Then all his wars and spoiles, the which he did of yore.
[Pg 237]
Therewith she sweetly smyld. They though full bent
[635] xxxviTo proue extremities of bloudie fight,
Yet at her speach their rages gan relent,
And calme the sea of their tempestuous spight,
Such powre haue pleasing words: such is the might
Of courteous clemencie in gentle hart.
Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight
Besought that Damzell suffer him depart,
And yield him readie passage to that other part.
She no lesse glad, then he desirous was xxxvii
Of his departure thence; for of her ioy
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 vnquiet iarre,
That she well pleased was thence to amoue him farre.
Tho him she brought abord, and her swift bote xxxviii
Forthwith directed to that further strand;
The which on the dull waues did lightly flote
And soone arriued on the shallow sand,
Where gladsome
Guyon salied
[636] forth to land,
And to that Damzell thankes gaue for reward.
Vpon that shore he spied Atin stand,
There by
[637] his maister left, when late he far’d
In
Phædrias flit
[638] barke ouer that perlous shard.
Well could he him remember, sith of late xxxix
He with Pyrochles sharp debatement made;
Streight gan he him reuile, and bitter rate,
As shepheards curre, that in darke euenings shade
Hath tracted forth some saluage beastes
[639] trade;
Vile Miscreant (said he) whither doest thou flie
The shame and death, which will thee soone inuade?
What coward hand shall doe thee next to die,
That art thus foully fled from famous enemie?
[Pg 238]
With that he stiffely shooke his steelehead dart: xl
But sober Guyon, hearing him so raile,
Though somewhat moued in his mightie hart,
Yet with strong reason maistred passion fraile,
And passed fairely forth. He turning taile,
Backe to the strond retyrd, and there still stayd,
Awaiting passage, which him late did faile;
The whiles Cymochles with that wanton mayd
The hastie heat of his auowd reuenge delayd.
Whylest
[640] there the varlet stood, he saw from farre
xliAn armed knight, that towards 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 bloud,
And soyld with durtie gore, that no man can
Discerne the hew thereof. He neuer stood,
But bent his hastie course towards the idle flood.
The varlet saw, when to the flood he came, xlii
How without stop or stay he fiercely lept,
And deepe him selfe beducked
[641] in the same,
That in the lake his loftie crest was steept,
Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept,
But with his raging armes he rudely flasht
[642]The waues about, and all his armour swept,
That all the bloud and filth away was washt,
Yet still he bet the water, and the billowes dasht.
Atin drew nigh, to weet what it mote bee; xliii
For much he wondred at that vncouth sight;
Whom should he, but his owne deare Lord, there see,
His owne deare Lord Pyrochles, in sad plight,
Readie to drowne himselfe for fell despight.
Harrow now out, and well away, he cryde,
What dismall day hath lent this cursed light,
[643]To see my Lord so deadly damnifyde?
[644]Pyrochles, O Pyrochles, what is thee betyde?
[Pg 239]
I burne, I burne, I burne, then loud he cryde, xliv
O how I burne with implacable fire,
Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming syde,
Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of mire,
Nothing but death can doe me to respire.
Ah be it (said he) from Pyrochles farre
After pursewing death once to require,
Or think, that ought those puissant hands may marre:
Death is for wretches borne vnder vnhappie starre.
Perdie, then is it
[645] fit for me (said he)
xlvThat am, I weene, most wretched man aliue,
Burning
[646] in flames, yet no flames can I see,
And dying daily, daily yet reuiue:
O Atin, helpe to me last death to giue.
The varlet at his plaint was grieued so sore,
That his deepe wounded hart in two did riue,
And his owne health remembring now no more,
Did follow that ensample, which he blam’d afore.
Into the lake he lept, his Lord to ayd, xlvi
(So Loue the dread of daunger doth despise)
And of him catching hold him strongly stayd
From drowning. But more happie he, then wise
Of that seas nature did him not auise.
The waues thereof so slow and sluggish were,
Engrost with mud, which did them foule agrise,
That euery weightie thing they did vpbeare,
Ne ought mote euer sinke downe to the bottome there.
Whiles thus they strugled in that idle waue, xlvii
And stroue in vaine, the one himselfe to drowne,
The other both from drowning for to saue,
Lo, to that shore one in an auncient gowne,
Whose hoarie locks great grauitie did crowne,
Holding in hand a goodly arming sword,
By fortune came, led with the troublous sowne:
Where drenched deepe he found in that dull ford
The carefull seruant, striuing with his raging Lord.
[Pg 240]
Him Atin spying, knew right well of yore, xlviii
And loudly cald, Helpe helpe, O Archimage;
To saue my Lord, in wretched plight forlore;
Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell sage:
Weake hands, but counsell is most strong in age.
Him when the old man saw,
[647] he wondred sore,
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage:
Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed more
Then pittie, he in hast approched to the shore.
And cald, Pyrochles, what is this, I see? xlix
What hellish furie hath at earst thee hent?
Furious euer I thee knew to bee,
Yet neuer in this straunge astonishment.
These flames, these flames (he cryde) do me torment.
What 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, within my secret bowels bee.
That cursed man, that cruell feend of hell, l
Furor, oh Furor hath me thus bedight:
His deadly wounds within my liuers
[648] swell,
And his whot fire burnes in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through his infernall brond of spight,
Sith late with him I batteil vaine would boste;
That now I weene Ioues 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 li
He knew right well, and him attonce disarmd:
Then searcht his secret wounds, and made a priefe
Of euery place, that was with brusing harmd,
Or with the hidden fire too
[649] inly warmd.
Which done, he balmes and herbes thereto applyde,
And euermore
[650] with mighty spels them charmd,
That in short space he has them qualifyde,
And him restor’d to health, that would haue algates dyde.
Guyon findes Mammon[651] in a delue,
Sunning his threasure hore:
Is by him tempted, and led downe,
To see his secret store.
As Pilot well expert in perilous waue, i
That to a stedfast starre his course hath bent,
When foggy mistes, or cloudy tempests haue
The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,
And couer’d heauen with hideous dreriment,
Vpon his card and compas firmes his eye,
The maisters of his long experiment,
And to them does the steddy helme apply,
Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:
[652]
So Guyon hauing lost his trusty guide, ii
Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
Yet on his way, of none accompanide;
And euermore himselfe with comfort feedes,
Of his owne vertues, and prayse-worthy deedes.
So long he yode, yet no aduenture found,
Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy reedes:
For still he traueild through wide wastfull ground,
That nought but desert wildernesse shew’d all around.
At last he came vnto a gloomy glade, iii
Couer’d with boughes and shrubs from heauens light,
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An vncouth, saluage, and vnciuile wight,
Of griesly hew, and fowle ill fauour’d sight;
His face with smoke was tand, and eyes were bleard,
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,
His cole-blacke hands did seeme to haue beene seard
In smithes fire-spitting
[653] forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.
[Pg 242]
His yron coate all ouergrowne with rust, iv
Was vnderneath enueloped with gold,
Whose glistring glosse darkned with filthy dust,
Well yet
[654] appeared, to haue beene of old
A worke of rich entayle, and curious mould,
Wouen with antickes and wild Imagery:
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned vpsidowne
[655], to feede his eye
And
[656] couetous desire with his huge threasury.
And round about him lay on euery side v
Great heapes of gold, that neuer could be spent:
Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
Of
Mulcibers[657] deuouring element;
Some others were new driuen, and distent
Into great Ingoes, and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment;
But most were stampt, and in their metall bare
The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.
Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright vi
And hast he rose, for to remoue aside
Those pretious hils from straungers enuious 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 him selfe were at the sight dismayd,
Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd.
What art thou man, (if man at all thou art) vii
That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
And these rich heapes
[658] of wealth doest hide apart
From the worldes eye, and from her right vsaunce?
Thereat with staring eyes fixed askaunce,
In great disdaine, he answerd; Hardy Elfe,
That darest vew my direfull countenaunce,
I read thee rash, and heedlesse of thy selfe,
To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.
[Pg 243]
God of the world and worldlings I me call, viii
Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
That of my plenty poure out vnto all,
And vnto none my graces do enuye:
Riches, renowme, and principality,
Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,
For which men swinck and sweat incessantly,
Fro me do flow into an ample flood,
And in the hollow earth haue their eternall brood.
Wherefore if me thou deigne to serue and sew, ix
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 numbred francke and free.
Mammon (said he) thy godheades vaunt is vaine,
And idle offers of thy golden fee;
To them, that couet such eye-glutting gaine,
Proffer thy giftes, and fitter seruaunts entertaine.
Me ill besits
[659], that in der-doing armes,
xAnd honours suit my vowed dayes do spend,
Vnto 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 ioyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend;
Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight:
Those be the riches fit for an aduent’rous knight.
Vaine glorious Elfe (said he) doest not thou weet, xi
That money can thy wantes at will supply?
Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet
It can puruay in twinckling of an eye;
And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
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?
[Pg 244]
All otherwise (said he) I riches read, xii
And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;
First got with guile, and then preseru’d with dread,
And after spent with pride and lauishnesse,
Leauing behind them griefe and heauinesse.
Infinite mischiefes of them do arize,
Strife,
[660] and debate, bloudshed, and bitternesse,
Outrageous wrong, and hellish couetize,
That noble heart as
[661] great dishonour doth despize.
Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine; xiii
But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,
And loyall truth to treason doest incline;
Witnesse the guiltlesse bloud pourd oft on ground,
The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround,
The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,
And purple robe gored with many a wound;
Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent:
So mak’st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull gouernement.
Long were to tell the troublous stormes, that tosse xiv
The priuate state, and make the life vnsweet:
Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,
And in frayle wood on Adrian gulfe doth fleet,
Doth not, I weene, so many euils meet.
Then Mammon wexing wroth, And why then, said,
Are mortall men so fond and vndiscreet,
So euill thing to seeke vnto their ayd,
And hauing not complaine, and hauing it vpbraid?
Indeede (quoth he) through fowle intemperaunce, xv
Frayle men are oft captiu’d to couetise:
But would they thinke, with how small allowaunce
Vntroubled Nature doth her selfe suffise,
Such superfluities they would despise,
Which with sad cares empeach our natiue ioyes:
At the well head the purest streames arise:
But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,
And with vncomely weedes the gentle waue accloyes.
[Pg 245]
The antique world, in his first flowring youth, xvi
Found no defect in his Creatours grace,
But with glad thankes, and vnreproued truth,
The gifts of soueraigne bountie did embrace:
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.
Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe xvii
Of his great Grandmother with steele to wound,
And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe,
With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he found
Fountaines of gold and siluer to abound,
Of which the matter of his huge desire
And pompous pride eftsoones he did compound;
Then auarice gan through his veines inspire
His greedy flames, and kindled life-deuouring fire.
Sonne (said he then) let be thy bitter scorne, xviii
And leaue the rudenesse of that
[662] antique age
To them, that liu’d therein in state forlorne;
Thou that doest liue in later times, must wage
Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
If then thee list my offred grace to vse,
Take what thou please of all this surplusage;
If thee list not, leaue haue thou to refuse:
But thing refused, do not afterward accuse.
Me list not (said the Elfin knight) receaue xix
Thing offred, till I know it well be got,
Ne wote I, but thou didst these goods bereaue
From rightfull owner by vnrighteous lot,
Or that bloud guiltinesse
[663] or guile them blot.
Perdy (quoth he) yet neuer eye did vew,
Ne toung did tell, ne hand these handled not,
But safe I haue them kept in secret mew,
From heauens sight, and powre of all which them pursew.
[Pg 246]
What secret place (quoth he) can safely hold xx
So huge a masse, and hide from heauens eye?
Or where hast thou thy wonne, that so much gold
Thou canst preserue from wrong and robbery?
Come thou (quoth he) and see. So by and by
Through that thicke couert he him led, and found
A darkesome way, which no man could descry,
That deepe descended through the hollow ground,
And was with dread and horrour compassed around.
At length they came into a larger space, xxi
That stretcht it selfe into an ample plaine,
Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly raine:
By that wayes side, there sate infernall
[664] Payne,
And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:
The one in hand an yron whip did straine,
The other brandished a bloudy knife,
And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threaten life.
On thother side in one consort there sate, xxii
Cruell Reuenge, and rancorous Despight,
Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate,
But gnawing Gealosie out of their sight
Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight,
And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,
And found no place, where safe he shroud him might,
Lamenting Sorrow did in darknesse lye,
And Shame his vgly face did hide from liuing eye.
And ouer them sad Horrour
[665] with grim hew,
xxiiiDid alwayes sore, beating his yron wings;
And after him Owles and Night-rauens flew,
The hatefull messengers of heauy things,
Of death and dolour telling sad tidings;
Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clift,
A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,
That hart of flint a sunder could haue rift:
Which hauing ended, after him she flyeth swift.
[Pg 247]
All these before the gates of Pluto lay, xxiv
By whom they passing, spake vnto 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 adioyning, ne them parted ought
[666]:
Betwixt them both was but a litle stride,
That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth diuide.
Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care, xxv
Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
For feare least Force or Fraud should vnaware
Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:
Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward
Approch, albe his drowsie den were next;
For next to death is Sleepe to be compard:
Therefore his house is vnto his annext;
Here Sleep, there Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext
[667].
So soone as Mammon there arriu’d, the dore xxvi
To him did open, and affoorded way;
Him followed eke Sir Guyon euermore,
Ne darkenesse him, ne daunger might dismay.
Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way
Did shut, and from behind it forth there lept
An vgly feend, more fowle then dismall day,
The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,
And euer as he went, dew watch vpon him kept.
Well hoped he, ere long that hardy guest, xxvii
If euer couetous hand, or lustfull eye,
Or lips he layd on thing, that likt him best,
Or euer sleepe his eye-strings did vntye,
Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye
He ouer him did hold his cruell clawes,
Threatning with greedy gripe to do him dye
And rend in peeces with his rauenous pawes,
If euer he transgrest the fatall Stygian lawes.
[Pg 248]
That houses forme within was rude and strong, xxviii
Like an huge caue, hewne out of rocky clift,
From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong,
Embost with massy gold of glorious gift,
And with rich metall loaded euery rift,
That heauy ruine they did seeme to threat;
And ouer them Arachne high did lift
Her cunning web, and spred her subtile net,
Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more blacke then let.
Both roofe, and floore, and wals were all of gold, xxix
But ouergrowne with dust and old decay,
And hid in darkenesse, that none could behold
The hew thereof: for vew of chearefull day
Did neuer in that house it selfe display,
But a faint shadow of vncertain light;
Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away:
Or as the Moone cloathed with clowdy night,
Does shew to him, that walkes in feare and sad affright.
In all that rowme was nothing to be seene, xxx
But huge great yron chests and coffers strong,
All bard with double bends, that none could weene
Them to efforce by violence or wrong;
On euery side they placed were along.
But all the ground with sculs was scattered,
And dead mens bones, which round about were flong,
Whose liues, it seemed, whilome there were shed,
And their vile carcases now left vnburied.
They forward passe, ne
Guyon yet spoke
[668] word,
xxxiTill that they came vnto an yron dore,
Which to them opened of his
[669] owne accord,
And shewd of richesse such exceeding store,
As eye of man did neuer see before;
Ne euer could within one place be found,
Though all the wealth, which is, or was of yore,
Could gathered be through all the world around,
And that aboue were added to that vnder ground.
[Pg 249]
The charge thereof vnto a couetous Spright xxxii
Commaunded was, who thereby did attend,
And warily awaited day and night,
From other couetous feends it to defend,
Who it to rob and ransacke did intend.
Then
Mammon[670] turning to that warriour, said;
Loe here the worldes blis, loe here the end,
To which all men do ayme, rich to be made:
Such grace now to be happy, is before thee laid.
Certes (said he) I n’ill thine offred grace, xxxiii
Ne to be made so happy do intend:
Another blis before mine eyes I place,
Another happinesse, another end.
To them, that list, these base regardes I lend:
But I in armes, and in atchieuements braue,
Do rather choose my flitting houres to spend,
And to be Lord of those, that riches haue,
Then them to haue my selfe, and be their seruile sclaue
[671].
Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth did grate, xxxiv
And grieu’d, so long to lacke his greedy 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 Culuer in the Faulcons fist.
Eternall God thee saue from such decay.
But whenas Mammon saw his purpose mist,
Him to entrap vnwares another way he wist.
Thence forward he him led, and shortly brought xxxv
Vnto another rowme, whose dore forthright,
To him did open, as it had beene taught:
Therein an hundred raunges weren pight,
And hundred fornaces all burning bright;
By euery fornace many feends did bide,
Deformed creatures, horrible in sight,
And euery feend his busie paines applide,
To melt the golden metall, ready to be tride.
[Pg 250]
One with great bellowes gathered filling aire, xxxvi
And with forst wind the fewell did inflame;
Another did the dying bronds repaire
With yron
[672] toungs, and sprinckled oft the same
With liquid waues, fiers Vulcans rage to tame,
Who maistring them, renewd his former heat;
Some scumd the drosse, that from the metall came;
Some stird the molten owre with ladles great;
And euery one did swincke, and euery one did sweat.
But when as
[673] earthly wight they present saw,
xxxviiGlistring in armes and battailous aray,
From their whot worke they did themselues withdraw
To wonder at the sight: for till that day,
They neu
