t S P E N S E R 
 
 AND HIS 
 
 POETEY. 
 
 BY 
 
 G E O. L. U C R A I K, LL D. 
 
 EEVISED AND CORRECTED. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HARLES GRIFFIN AND COMPANY, 
 
 STATIONERS' HALL COURT. 
 1871. 
 
 * 
 
 . >
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Sectiok III. (continued.)— THE FAIRY QUEEN ... 5 
 
 .•••♦..*•< - • . >
 
 . : 1 
 
 C*4 
 
 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. 
 
 the eairy queen. 
 Book Third. 
 
 The Third Book of the Fairy Queen contains the Legend 
 of Britomartis, or of Chastity. Britomartis is one ot 
 the names of Diana ; but it was no doubt selected by 
 Spenser partly also on account of the sound, by which 
 he designs to intimate that his heroine is a Britoness. 
 As may be supposed, in celebrating " that fairest virtue, 
 far above the rest," full advantage is taken by the poet 
 of so fair an opportunity of complimenting his royal 
 patroness, who was almost as vain of her virginity as of 
 her beauty. In a prelude of five stanzas he asks himself 
 what need he has to fetch foreign examples from Fairy 
 Land of what shines forth with such liveliness and per- 
 fection in his sovereign, that ladies, ambitious of distin- 
 guishing themselves in a similar maimer, have no occasion 
 to look any farther — were it not, he ingeniously adds, 
 that her portraiture can be truly expressed neither by 
 "life-resembling pencil," nor artist's "daedal hand," 
 " all were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles," — 
 
 Ne poet's wit, that passeth painter far 
 In picturing the parts of beauty daint. 
 
 He then glides gracefully into a reference to his friend 
 Raleigh's poem written in celebration of Elizabeth, 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
 £71744
 
 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 which we have already found noticed in his letter ex- 
 plaining the plan and allegory of the Fairy Queen — 
 
 that sweet verse, "with nectar sprinkeled, 
 
 In which a gracious servant pictured 
 His Cynthia, his heaven's fairest light. 
 
 Only, he concludes, let " that same delicious poet" per- 
 mit a rustic muse for a little while to appropriate his 
 high theme, and let the fairest Cynthia not refuse to 
 view herself in more mirrors than one — 
 
 But either Gloriana let her choose, 
 
 Or in Belphoobe fashioned to be ; 
 
 In the one her rule, in the other her rare chastity. 
 
 These introductions to the several Books of the Fairy 
 Queen, we may here observe, have all the appearance of 
 having been written after the poem itself, and inserted, 
 like the Dedicatory Sonnets, by the author when he was 
 preparing it for the press. 
 
 Canto I. (67 stanzas). — From what is said at the com- 
 mencement of this Canto, Guyon and the Palmer must be 
 supposed to have returned, after their capture of Acrasia, 
 to the house of Alma, and there rejoined Prince Arthur. 
 Soon after the Briton Prince and Fairy Knight take 
 leave of their fair hostess and set out again on their way 
 together, the enchantress being at the same time sent 
 forward by another road, and under a strong guard, to 
 Fairy Court. After long wandering and many adven- 
 tures, they see in an open plain a knight advancing 
 towards them, attended by an aged squire, crouching, as 
 if overladen by the burthen of his years, under his three- 
 square or triangular shield. This shield, " bearing a 
 lion passant in a golden field " (the legendary arms of 
 the old British kings), the stranger knight assumes as 
 soon as he sees the Prince and Guyon approaching, as 
 was customary in such circumstances ; but he manifests 
 no hostile intent. Somewhat remarkably, nevertheless, 
 Guyon at once proposes to attack him, beseeching " the 
 prince, of grace, to let him run that turn;" and upon 
 his companion assenting he sharply spurs forward
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 7 
 
 His foamy steed, whose fiery feet did burn 
 The verdant grass as he thereon did tread. 
 
 The issue, however, is that the Fairy Knight, much to 
 his surprise as we.ll as shame and vexation, is in an in- 
 stant thrown from his saddle, and 
 
 ere well he was aware, 
 
 Nigh a spear's length behind his crouper fell, 
 
 although without mischance to life or limb. It is the 
 
 first time, 
 
 sith warlike arms he bore, 
 
 And shivering spear in bloody field first shook, 
 
 that he has ever suffered such dishonour. But ah, ex- 
 claims the poet, 
 
 Ah ! gentlest knight, that ever armour bore. 
 
 Let not thee grieve dismounted to have been, 
 
 And brought to ground, that never wast before , 
 
 For not thy fault, but secret power unseen : 
 
 That spear enchanted was which laid thee on the green ! 
 
 His grief and shame, in truth, would be much greater if 
 he knew by whom it is that he has been thus discomfited 
 — if he were aware that it is a woman with whom he has 
 fought : for his successful opponent is indeed the famous 
 Britomart, who has come on strange adventure all the 
 way from Britain — 
 
 To seek her lover (love far sought, alas !) 
 
 Whose image she had seen in Venus' looking-glass. 
 
 Upon all this Upton, the most learned of the commenta- 
 tors on the Fairy Queen, has a curious observation. The 
 poem, he remarks, is full of allusions, either moral or his- 
 torical. It is singular conduct in a courteous knight, 
 like Guyon, to attack another by whom he has not been 
 defied, and whom he has not himself defied. Some 
 secret history is probably alluded to. " In Britomart," 
 says Upton, " I suppose imaged the Virgin Queen ; in 
 Sir Guyon the Earl of Essex. Sir Guyon is dismounted, 
 presuming to match himself against Britomart. If Guyon 
 historically and covertly (now and then) means the Earl
 
 8 SPENSEK AND HIS TOETRY. [Book III. 
 
 of Essex, will it not bear an easy allusion to his presum- 
 ing to match himself with Queen Elizabeth ? And has 
 not the poet with the finest art managed a very danger- 
 ous and secret piece of history ?" 
 
 Guyon, snatching his sword, is about to renew the 
 combat, but the Palmer, knowing that " Death sate on 
 the point of that enchanted spear," hastens to him and 
 counsels him to desist; and, the Prince also joining in 
 the same advice, and laying the blame, not on his own 
 carriage, but on " his starting steed that swarved aside," 
 and on "the ill purveyance of his page," he is at last 
 pacified. On this they all agree to make friends, and to 
 pursue their journey together. 
 
 O, goodly usage of those antique times, 
 In which the sword was servant unto right; 
 When not for malice and contentious crimes, 
 But all for praise and proof of manly might, 
 The martial brood accustomed to fight : 
 Then honour was the meed of victory, 
 And yet the vanquished had no despite. 
 
 They travel through many lands, till at last they enter a 
 forest, in whose gloomy shades they ride a long while 
 without seeing tract of any living thing, " save bears, 
 lions, and bulls, which roamed them around." 
 
 All suddenly out of the thickest brush, 
 Upon a milk-white palfrey all alone, 
 A goodly lady did foreby them rush, 
 Whose face did seem as clear as crystal stone, 
 And eke, through fear, as white as whales bone : 
 Her garments all were wrought of beaten gold, 
 And all her steed with tinsel trappings shone, 
 Which fled so fast that nothing mote him hold, 
 And scarce them leisure gave her passing to behold. 
 
 Still as she fled her eye she backward threw, 
 As fearing evil that pursued her fast ; 
 And her fair yellow locks behind her flew, 
 Loosely dispersed with puff of every blast : 
 All as a blazing star doth far outcast 
 His hairy beams, and flaming locks dispread, 
 At sight whereof the people stand aghast;
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 9 
 
 But the sage wizard tells, as he has read, 
 
 That it importunes death and doleful drearihead. 
 
 They soon perceive that she is pursued by " a griesly 
 foster," or forester, mounted on a " tireling * jade," 
 which he fiercely urges on 
 
 Through thick and thin, both over bank and bush, 
 
 In hope her to attain by hook or crook, 
 
 That from his gory sides the blood did gush : 
 
 Large were his limbs, and terrible his look, 
 
 And iu his clownish hand a sharp boar-spear he shook. 
 
 The two gentle knights, seeing this, we are told, instantly 
 set forth together after the lady, 
 
 in hope to win thereby 
 
 Most goodly meed, the fairest dame alive — 
 
 leaving the Prince's squire, Timias, to manage the foul 
 
 foster. Meanwhile Britomart, 
 
 — whose constant mind 
 
 Would not so lightly follow beauty's chase, 
 
 after waiting for them a short time, sets forward on her 
 way by herself. Having got nearly out of the wood, 
 she perceives fronting her a stately castle, before the 
 gate of which a spacious plain is wide outspread ; and 
 there six knights are fighting with one, who, though 
 sore beset, is yet neither dismayed nor driven back, but, 
 on the contrary, keeps them all at bay and forces them 
 to recoil. Britomart immediately runs to his rescue, 
 calling at the same time upon the six to forbear ; but 
 they do not heed her till she rushes amongst them and 
 soon compels them to be at peace. The single knight 
 then informs her that he loves a lady, " the truest one 
 on ground " — her name the Errant Damsel — and that 
 the six would force him, " by odds of might," to fix his 
 affections on another dame. Certes, says Britomart, 
 ye six are to blame in thus attempting to accomplish 
 by force a thing by no means to be so gone about : 
 
 * The editors do not explain or notice this word 
 j4 ^ y- \T€
 
 10 SPESSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 For knight to leave his lady were great shame 
 
 That faithful is ; and better were to die. 
 
 All loss is less, and less the infamy, 
 
 Than loss of love to him that loves but one : 
 
 Ne may love be compelled by maistery ; 
 
 For, soon as maistery comes, sweet love anon 
 
 Taketh his nimble wings, and soon away is gone. 
 
 [The reader will recognise in these two last fine lines 
 the origin of Pope's couplet in the Epistle of Eloisa : 
 Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, 
 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.] 
 
 But the six now state their case by the mouth of one of 
 their number. In the castle dwells 
 
 a lady fair, 
 
 Whose sovereign beauty hath no living peer ; 
 
 Thereto so bounteous and so debonnaire, 
 
 That never any mote with her compare : 
 
 and she has ordained a law, approved by them her ser- 
 vants, that every knight passing this way shall, " in case 
 he have no lady nor no love," devote himself to her 
 service; or, if he have another love, either give her 
 up, or maintain in fight with them that she is fairer than 
 the lady of the castle. 
 
 " Perdy," said Britomart, " the choice is hard ! 
 
 But what reward had he that overcame ? " 
 
 " He should advanced be to high regard," 
 
 Said they, " and have our lady's love for his reward. 
 
 " Therefore aread, sir, if thou have a love." 
 
 " Love have I sure," quoth she, " but lady none ; 
 
 Yet will I not fro mine own love remove, 
 
 Ne to your lady will I service done, 
 
 But wreak your wrongs wrought to this knight alone, 
 
 And prove his cause." With that, her mortal spear 
 
 She mightily aventred towards one, 
 
 And down him smote ere well aware he were; 
 
 Then to the next she rode, and down the next did bear. 
 
 After this she throws a third to the ground, and a fourth 
 is disposed of in like manner by the single knight; upon 
 which the two that remain yield themselves prisoners.
 
 Canto L] THE FAIRY QUEEN". 1 1 
 
 They acknowledge that her's is the damsel, and they 
 her liegemen, without however being aware that it is a 
 woman to whom they thus surrender their swords, them- 
 selves, and their lady love. They now conduct Brito- 
 mart into Castle Joyous, and passing through a long and 
 spacious chamber soon bring her into the presence of its 
 mistress, whom they call the Lady of Delight, but whose 
 true name is Malecasta. 
 
 But for to tell the sumptuous array 
 
 Of that great chamber should be labour lost ; 
 
 For living wit, I ween, cannot display 
 
 The royal riches and exceeding cost 
 
 Of every pillar and of every post, 
 
 Which all of purest bullion framed were, 
 
 And with great pearls and precious stones embossed ; 
 
 That the bright glister of their beames clear 
 
 Did sparkle forth great light, and glorious did appear. 
 
 But the richness and royalty of the inner room, in which 
 the lady sits, are still more wonderful : 
 
 The walls were round about appareled 
 
 With costly cloths of Arras and of Tour ; 
 
 In which with cunning hand was pourtrayed 
 
 The love of Venus and her paramour, 
 
 The fair Adonis, turned to a flower ; 
 
 A work of rare device and wondrous wit. 
 
 First did it show the bitter baleful stoure, 
 
 Which her essayed with many a fervent fit. 
 
 When first her tender heart was with his beauty smit : 
 
 Then with what sleights and sweet allurements she 
 
 Enticed the buy, as well that art she knew, 
 
 And wooed him her paramour to be ; 
 
 Now making girlands of each flower that grew T , 
 
 To crown his golden locks with honour due ; 
 
 Now leading him into a secret shade 
 
 From his beauperes, a and from bright heaven's view, 
 
 "Where him to sleep she gently would persuade, 
 
 Or bathe him in a fountain by some covert glade : 
 
 And, whilst he slept, she over him would spread 
 Her mantle coloured like the starry skies, 
 
   Fair companions.
 
 12 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 And her soft arm lay underneath his head, 
 And with ambrosial kisses bathe his eyes ; 
 And, whilst he bathed, with her two crafty spies 
 She secretly would search each dainty limb, 
 And throw into the well sweet rosemaries, 
 And fragrant violets, and pansies trim; 
 And ever with sweet nectar she did sprinkle hiin. 
 
 So did she steal his heedless heart away, 
 And joyed his love in secret unespied. 
 
 In another picture ho lies languishing of his wound, while 
 the goddess weeps and laments by his side ; 
 
 and evermore 
 
 With her soft garment wipes away the gore 
 Which stains his snowy skin with hateful hue : 
 But, when she saw no help might him restore, 
 Him to a dainty flower she did transmue, b 
 Which in that cloth was wrought, as if it lively grew. 
 
 All around the chamber are beds or couches, " as whilome 
 was the antique world's guise/' and throngs of squires 
 and damsels fill it continually with dance and revel. 
 
 And all the while sweet music did divide 
 
 Her looser notes with Lydian harmony ; 
 
 And all the while sweet birds thereto applied 
 
 Their dainty lays and dulcet melody, 
 
 Aye carolling of love and jollity. 
 
 Britomart and the other knight, who now turn out to be 
 our old acquaintance, the Knight of the Redcross — his 
 Errant Damsel, therefore, being Una — loathe the loose 
 demeanour of the wanton crew, but suffer themselves to 
 be led up to the great lady, whom they find seated on a 
 sumptuous bed, glistering all with gold and glorious show, 
 as was the wont of the proud Persian queens. She is of 
 rare beauty, although her wanton eyes roll somewhat 
 lightly, and are, like Lesbia's in Moore's song, too fond 
 of flashing their beams to right and left. By her order 
 the two strangers are bounteously entertained, and, being 
 taken into a bower to be disarmed, " and cheered well 
 with wine and spicery," the Redcross Knight is soon 
 b Transmute.
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 1 8 
 
 stripped, but the brave maid will only vent, or lift up, 
 her umbrier, that is the visor of her helmet, so as to 
 allow her face to appear : — 
 
 As when fair Cynthia, in darksome night, 
 
 Is in a noyous cloud enveloped, 
 
 Where she may find the substance thin and light 
 
 Breaks forth her silver beams, and her bright head 
 
 Discovers to the world discomfited ; 
 
 Of the poor traveller that went astray 
 
 With thousand blessings she is heried : e 
 
 Such was the beauty and the shining ray 
 
 With which fair Britomart gave light unto the day. 
 
 And eke those six, which lately with her fought, 
 
 Now were disarmed, and did themselves present 
 
 Unto her view, and company unsought ; 
 
 For they all seemed courteous and gent, 
 
 And all six brethren, born of one parent, 
 
 Which had them trained in all civility, 
 
 And goodly taught to tilt and tournament : 
 
 Now were they liegemen to this lady free, 
 
 And her knight's-service ought/ 1 to hold of her in fee. 
 
 The first of them by name Gardante hight, 
 A jolly person, and of comely view ; 
 The second was Parlante, a bold knight ;" 
 And next to him Jocante did ensue ; 
 Basciante did himself most courteous shew ; 
 But fierce Bacchante seemed too fell and keen; 
 And yet in arms Noctante greater grew : 
 All were fair knights, and goodly well beseen : 
 But to fair Britomart they all but shadows been. 
 
 For she was full of amiable grace, 
 
 And manly terror mixed therewithal ; 
 
 That, as the one stirred up affections base, 
 
 So the other did men's rash desires appal, 
 
 And hold them back that would in error fall : 
 
 As he that hath espied a vermeil rose, 
 
 To which sharp thorns and breres the way forestall, 
 
 Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose, 
 
 But, wishing it far off', his idle wish doth lose. 
 
 The ' ; fresh and lusty knight," as Britomart seems, soon 
 c Praised, blessed. d Owed.
 
 14 SPE>"SER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 kindles a flame in the bosom of the very combustible 
 lady of the castle, who manifests her passion by sufli- 
 ciently intelligible signs ; but JBritomart takes no notice 
 of her crafty glances. 
 
 Supper was shortly dight, and down they sat ; 
 
 Where they were served with all sumptuous fare, 
 
 Whiles fruitful Ceres and Lyasus fat 
 
 Poured out their plenty, without spite or spare ; 
 
 Nought wanted there that dainty was and rare : 
 
 And aye the cups their banks did overflow : 
 
 And aye between the cups she did prepare 
 
 Way to her love, and secret darts did throw ; 
 
 But Britomart would not such guileful message know. 
 
 At last she plainly intimates in words what she feels, and 
 Britomart, who, " by self-feeling of her feeble sex,'' 
 knows what love is, is not so hard-hearted as to receive 
 her confession with discourtesy — though deeming her 
 somewhat light in thus wooing a wandering guest. As 
 the evening advanced every knight and gentle squire 
 
 Gan choose his dame with basciomani gay, 
 
 that is, with kissing of hands ; and 
 
 Some fell to dance ; some fell to hazardry ;e 
 Some to make love ; some to make merriment ; 
 As diverse wits to diverse things apply : 
 And all the while fair Malecasta bent 
 Her crafty engines to her close intent. 
 By this the eternal lamps, wherewith high Jove 
 Doth light the lower world, were half yspent, 
 And the moist daughters of huge Atlas strove 
 Into the ocean deep to drive their weary drove. 
 
 All now retire to rest, guided to their bowers by long 
 waxen torches — the Britoness also now undressing, and 
 committing herself to " her soft-feathered nest," where 
 she soon falls sound asleep. Sometime after, however, 
 she is awakened by finding some one stretched beside 
 her ; she starts from her bed, and runs to seize her sword ; 
 but Malecasta, for it is she, 
 
 „ The game of hazard.
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 15 
 
 half dead 
 
 Through sudden fear and ghastly dreariluad. 
 
 Did shriek aloud, that through the house it rong, 
 
 And the whole family therewith adread 
 
 Eashly out of their roused couches sprong, 
 
 And to the troubled chamber all in arms did throng. 
 
 The confusion that ensues may be imagined. Only the 
 Redcross Knight openly stands by Britomart ; the others, 
 still remembering the event of their yesterday's encounter, 
 are not disposed too rashly again to draw down her hos- 
 tility ;— 
 
 But one of those six knights, Gardante hight, 
 
 Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keen. 
 
 Which forth he sent, with felonous despite 
 
 And fell intent, against the virgin sheen: 
 
 The mortal steel stayed not till it was seen 
 
 To gore her side ; yet was the wound not deep, 
 
 But lightly razed her soft silken skin, 
 
 That drops of purple blood thereout did weep. 
 
 Which did her lily smock with stains of vermeil steep. 
 
 Wherewith enraged she fiercely at them flew, 
 And with her flaming sword about her laid, 
 That none of them foul mischief could eschew, 
 But with her dreadful strokes were all dismayed : 
 Here, there, and every where, about her swayed 
 Her wrathful steel, that none mote it abide ; 
 And eke the Redcross Knight gave her good aid, 
 Aye joining foot to foot, and side to side ; 
 That in short space their foes they have quite terrified. 
 
 Tho, f whenas all were put to shameful flight, 
 The noble Britomartis her arrayed, 
 And her bright arms about her body dight ; 
 For nothing would she lenger there be stayed, 
 Where so loose life and so ungentle trade 
 Was used of knights and ladies seeming gent : 
 So, early, ere the gross earth's greasy shade 
 Was all dispersed out of the firmament, 
 They took their steeds, and forth upon their journey 
 went. 
 
 Canto II. (52 stanzas). — The poet begins this Canto by 
 f Then.
 
 16 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 complaining that men have not generally shown them- 
 selves " indifferent," that is, impartial, " to womankind ;" 
 
 To whom no share in arms and chivalry 
 
 They do impart, ne maken memory 
 
 Of their brave gests and prowess martial : 
 
 Scarce do they spare to one, or two, or three 
 
 Room in their writs; yet the same writing small 
 
 Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all. 
 
 By record of ancient times, nevertheless, he finds that 
 women were formerly wont in wars to bear the greatest 
 sway, and even in all great exploits to bear away the 
 garland, till envious men began to "coin strait laws to 
 curb their liberty." Yet, he gallantly adds, since they 
 have laid aside warlike weapons and exercises, 
 
 They have excelled in arts and policy, 
 
 That now we foolish men that praise gan eke to envy. 
 
 This, of course, is a piece of adulation to Queen Elizabeth. 
 As Britomart and the Redcross Knight (here called 
 Guyon, by a mistake either of the press, or, more proba- 
 bly, of the author) are journeying on together, the maid, 
 at the fairy's request, and after suffering violent agita- 
 tion before she begins, relates to him what it is that has 
 induced her to take up the vocation of knight errantry. 
 Ever since her birth she has been trained to arms, and 
 has loathed her life to lead, 
 
 As ladies wont, in pleasure's wanton lap, 
 To finger the fine needle and nice thread. 
 
 All her delight, on the contrary, has been in warlike 
 adventures ; and in quest of praise and fame so to be 
 acquired it is that she has come from her native soil, the 
 Greater Britain, hither to Fairy Land. But can the 
 knight, she asks, give her any tidings of one who has 
 lately done her foul dishonour, and on whom she is now 
 seeking to be revenged, one whose name is Arthegal ? 
 She would recall the words, but it is too late: "Fair 
 martial maid," replies the Redcross Knight, 
 
 of all that ever played 
 
 At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game, 
 
 The noble Arthegal hath ever borne the name.
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 1 7 
 
 Britomart is inwardly rejoiced " to hear her love so 
 highly magnified ;" but she still professes to be intent on 
 revenge, and requests the knight to direct her where 
 she " that faitor false [false doer or deceiver] may 
 find." He answers that it is not easy to say where or 
 how Sir Arthegal may be found ; 
 
 For he ne wonneth in one certain stead, 
 But restless walketh all the world around, 
 Aye doing thinges that to his fame redound, 
 Defending ladies' cause and orphans' right. 
 
 His words sink into her " molten heart:" — 
 
 For pleasing words are like to magic art, 
 That doth the charmed snake in • slumber lay : 
 Such secret ease felt gentle Britomart, 
 Yet list the same eft'orce with feigned gainsay ; 
 (So discord oft in music makes the sweeter lay). 
 
 So she goes on to protest that, if she and Arthegal 
 chance to encounter, one of them shall certainly die or 
 surrender ; and she gets the Redcross Knight to describe 
 to her his shield, his arms, his horse, his person, that 
 she may know him when she beholds him. Yet all these 
 particulars she is already familiar with, and has had by 
 heart ever since she first fell in love with Arthegal 
 upon seeing his image in Britain revealed in the ma- 
 gician Merlin's wondrous mirror. This looking-glass 
 Merlin had fabricated in Deheubarth, or South Wales, 
 in the days of King Ryence : — 
 
 It virtue had to show in perfect sight 
 
 Whatever thing was in the world contained 
 
 Betwixt the lowest earth and heaven's height, 
 
 So that it to the looker appertained : 
 
 Whatever foe had wrought, or friend had feigned, 
 
 Therein discovered was, ne ought mote pass, 
 
 Ne ought in secret from the same remained ; 
 
 Forthy s it round and hollow shaped was, 
 
 Like to the world itself, and seemed a world of glass. 
 
 g Therefore, accordingly. 
 vol. ir.
 
 18 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 Who wonders not, that reads so wondrous work ? 
 
 But who does wonder, that has read the tower 
 
 Wherein the ^Egyptian Phao 1 ' long did lurk 
 
 From all men's view, that none might her discour," 
 
 Yet she might all men view out of her bower ? 
 
 Great Ptolemy it for his leman's sake 
 
 Ybuilded all of glass by magic power, 
 
 And also it impregnable did make ; 
 
 Yet, when his love was false, he with a peazeJ it brake. 
 
 Such was the glassy globe that Merlin made, 
 
 And gave unto King Ryence for his guard. 
 
 That never foes his kingdom might invade, 
 
 But he it knew at home before he heard 
 
 Tidings thereof, and so them still debarred : 
 
 It was a famous present for a prince, 
 
 And worthy work of infinite reward, 
 
 That treasons could bewray, and foes convince : 
 
 Happy this realm, had it remained ever since ! 
 
 Britomart, who was King Ryence's only daughter, and 
 the heir of his kingdom, having one day gone into her 
 father's closet, first viewed awhile her fair self in that fair 
 mirror ; but then, — 
 
 as it falleth, in the gentlest hearts 
 
 Imperious Love hath highest set his throne, 
 And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts 
 Of them that to him buxom are and prone ; —   
 So thought this maid (as maidens use to done) 
 Whom fortune for her husband would allot. 
 
 Soon there presented himself in the glass a comely 
 knight, in complete armour, with his visor up so as to 
 disclose his manly face ; his person was portly and of 
 heroic grace : — 
 
 His crest was covered with a couchant hound, 
 And all his armour seemed of antique mould, 
 But wondrous massy and assured sound, 
 And round about yfretted all with gold, 
 In which there written was, with cyphers old, 
 
 11 The mistress of one of the Ptolemies. 
 ' Discover. Blow.
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEES. 19 
 
 Achilles' arms which Arihegal did win: 
 
 And on his shield enveloped sevenfold 
 
 He bore a crowned little ermilin, 
 
 That decked the azure held with her fair pouldred k skin. 
 
 She both viewed this personage well, and liked him well ; 
 but lingered no further over what she saw, and went her 
 way :— 
 
 • ne her unguilty age 
 
 Did ween, unwares, that her unlucky lot 
 
 Lay hidden in the bottom of the pot : 
 
 Of hurt unwist most danger doth redound. 
 
 The " false archer," however, had shot his bolt : — 
 
 Thenceforth the feather in her lofty crest, 
 Euti'ed ' of love, gan lowly to avail ; ~ 
 And her proud portance and her princely gest, m 
 With which she erst triumphed, now did quail. 
 
 By day, by night, she cannot escape from the thought of 
 " that fair image written in her heart." At last one 
 night her aged nurse Glaugfi, who slept with her, ex- 
 tracted her secret and restored to her some measure of 
 peace of mind. " O daughter dear," rejoined the old 
 woman to Britomart's first confession of hopeless af- 
 fection, 
 
 " despair no whit, 
 
 For never sore but might a salve obtain ; 
 That blinded god, which hath ye blindly smit, 
 Another arrow hath your lover's heart to hit." 
 
 • . • . • 
 
 " But neither god of love nor god of sky 
 Can do," said she, " that which cannot be done." 
 " Things oft impossible," quoth she, " seem ere begun." 
 
 And then the kind and wise-hearted dame followed up 
 her re-assuring words with caresses that made them irre- 
 sistible : — 
 
 k Spotted. 
 1 Ruffled. m Carriage. 

 
 20 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 With that, upleaning on her elbow weak, 
 Her alabaster breast she oft did kiss, 
 Which all that while she felt to pant and quake, 
 As it an earthquake were. 
 
 In the end, when Britomart had told her all, her faith- 
 ful friend vowed, if she could not conquer her passion, 
 that, by wrong or right, she would compass her desire 
 and find for her the object of her love. In the morning 
 they both arose before day, and repaired to church, 
 where, however, we are told, they said their prayers, 
 although with great devotion, yet with little zeal : — 
 
 For the fair damsel from the holy herse n 
 
 Her love-sick heart to other thoughts did steal : 
 
 And that old dame said many an idle verse, 
 
 Out of her daughter's heart fond fancies to reverse. 
 
 Returned home, the royal infant fell 
 
 Into her former fit ; for why ? no power 
 
 Nor guidance of herself in her did dwell. 
 
 But the aged nurse, her calling to her bower, 
 
 Had gathered rue, and savin, and the flower 
 
 Of camphora, and calamint, and dill ; 
 
 All which she in an earthen pot did pour, 
 
 And to the brim with coltwood did it fill, 
 
 And many drops of milk and blood through it did spill : 
 
 Then, taking thrice three hairs from off her head, 
 
 Them trebly braided in a threefold lace, 
 
 And round about the pot's mouth bound the thread > 
 
 And, after having whispered a space 
 
 Certain sad words with hollow voice and base, 
 
 She to the virgin said, thrice said she it ; 
 
 " Come, daughter, come ; come, spit upon my face - f 
 
 Spit thrice upon me, thrice upon me spit ; 
 
 The uneven number for this business is most fit.'' 
 
 That said, her round about she from her turned, 
 She turned her contrary to the sun ; 
 Thrice she her turned contrary, and returned 
 All contrary ; for she the right did shun ; 
 And ever what she did was straight undone. 
 
 n Rehearsal of the service.
 
 Canto III.] THE FAIKY QUEEN. 21 
 
 So thought she to undo her daughter's love : 
 
 But love, that is in gentle breast begun, 
 
 No idle charm so lightly may remove : 
 
 That well can witness who by trial it does prove. 
 
 The noble maid, in fact, 
 
 shortly like a pined ghost became 
 
 Which long hath waited by the Stygian strand ; 
 
 and Glauce, utterly baffled, wist not what to do. 
 
 Jimlo_i.II. (62 stanzas).—" Most sacred fire," ex- 
 claims the poet, in commencing the continuation of t he 
 story of Britomart, 
 
 Most sacred fire that burnest mightily 
 In living breasts, ykindled first above 
 Amongst the eternal spheres and lamping ° sky. 
 And thence poured into men, which men call Love ; 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 Whence spring all noble deeds and never-dying fame : 
 
 Well did Antiquity a god thee deem, 
 
 That over mortal minds hast so great might. 
 
 He then proceeds to relate how Glauce, finding all Iter 
 efforts and experiments vain, at last advised that applica- 
 tion should be made .to Merlin, the fabricator of the mirror ; 
 and how thereupon she and Britomart, disguising them- 
 selves " in strange and base array," set out together for 
 Maridunum, now Cayr-Merdin (Caermarthen), where 
 
 the wise Merlin whilome wont (they say) 
 
 To make his won, low underneath the ground, 
 
 In a deep delve, far from the view of day, 
 
 That of no living wight he mote be found, 
 
 Whenso he counseled with his sprites encompassed round. 
 
 The place is a hideous cavern under a rock, lying a little 
 space 
 
 From the swift Barry, tumbling down apace 
 Amongst the woody hills of Dynevowre —   
 
 that is Dynevor Castle, near Caermarthen, formerly the 
 Shining-.
 
 22 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 chief scat of the Princes of South Wales. But, continues 
 the poet, 
 
 — dare thou not, I charge, in any case 
 To enter into that same baleful bower, 
 For fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour ; 
 
 But standing high aloft low lay thine ear, 
 And there such ghastly noise of iron chains 
 And brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, 
 Which thousand sprites with long enduring pains 
 Do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains ; 
 And oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, 
 When too huge toil and labour them constrains ; 
 And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds 
 From under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. 
 
 The cause is said to he this: a short time before his 
 death Merlin had set his spirits at work to fabricate a 
 brazen wall which he designed to erect around the city 
 of Caermarthen ; meanwhile the Lady of the Lake, whom 
 he had long loved, sending for him in haste, he bound 
 them not to slacken their labour till he should come back. 
 But the luckless magician was destined never to revisit 
 his ancient home : — 
 
 through that false lady's train p 
 
 He was surprised, and buried under bier, 
 Ne ever to his work returned again. 
 
 Or, as the story is told in the old romance of La Morte 
 aV Arthur : — " The Lady of the Lake and Merlin de- 
 parted ; and by the way as they went Merlin showed 
 to her many wonders, and came into Cornwall. And 
 always Merlin hung about the lady, for to have her 
 favour ; and she was ever passing weary of him, and fain 
 would have been delivered of him ; for she was afraid of 
 him, because he was a devil's son, and she could not put 
 him away by no means. And so upon a time it hap- 
 pened that Merlin shewed to her in a rock wherein was 
 a great wonder, and wrought by enchantment, which 
 went under a stone ; so, by her subtile craft and working, 
 
 p Deceit.
 
 Canto III.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 23 
 
 she made Merlin to go under that stone, to let him wit 
 of the marvels there. But she wrought so there for him 
 that he came never out, for all the craft that he could 
 do." There, accordingly, it is believed that he remains 
 till this hour. 
 
 Natheless those fiends may not their work forbear, 
 So greatly his commandement they fear, 
 But there do toil and travail day and night, 
 Until that brazen wall they up do rear; 
 For Merlin had in magic more insight 
 Then ever him before or after living wight : 
 
 For he by words could call out of the sky 
 
 Both sun and moon, and make them him obey ; 
 
 The land to sea, and sea to mainland dry, 
 
 And darksome night he eke could to turn to day ; 
 
 Huge hosts of men he could alone dismay. 
 
 And hosts of men of meanest things could frame, 
 
 When so him list his enemies to fray : 
 
 That to this day, for terror of his fame, 
 
 The fiends do quake when any him to them does name. 
 
 It is said that he was no son of mortal sire, but the 
 offspring of " a fair lady nun," Matilda, daughter to 
 Pubidius, Lord of Mathtraval (one of the three provinces 
 into which Wales was divided by Roderic the Great), 
 and cousin to King Ambrosius, conceived in her "by 
 false illusion of a guileful sprite." Britomart and 
 Glauce, after some hesitation, entering (the maid first, 
 made courageous by love) the dread magician's cave, 
 found him deeply intent about one of his wondrous works, 
 
 And writing strange characters in the ground, 
 
 With which the stubborn fiends he to his service bound. 
 
 lie had been aware both that they were coming and 
 what was their object ; and he only smiled at Glauce's 
 attempts to conceal from him who they were, and to 
 dissemble by " womanish guile" her knowledge of 
 Britomart's real ailment. Bursting forth at length into a 
 laugh, he exclaimed — 
 
 " Glauce, what needs this colourable word 
 To cloak the cause that hath itself bewrayed ?
 
 r 
 
 24 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 Ne ye, fair Britomartis, thus arrayed, 
 More hidden are than sun in cloudy vale." 
 
 On this, we are told — 
 
 The doubtful maid, seeing herself descried, 
 
 Was all abashed, and her pure ivory 
 
 Into a clear carnation sudden dyed ; 
 
 As fair Aurora, rising hastily, 
 
 Doth by her blushing tell tbat she did lie 
 
 All night in old Tithonus' frozen bed, 
 
 Whereof she seems ashamed inwardly : 
 
 but the old nurse boldly demanded of the prophet, that, 
 seeing he knew all, he would not withhold pity and 
 relief. He paused awhile, and then his spirit broke 
 forth :— 
 
 " Most noble virgin, that by fatal lore 
 
 Hast learned to love, let no whit thee dismay 
 
 The hard begin that meets thee in the door, 
 
 And with sharp fits thy tender heart oppresseth sore : 
 
 For so must all things excellent begin." 
 
 And then he told her that from her womb should 
 spring a famous progeny of the ancient Trojan blood, 
 that should 
 
 revive the sleeping memory 
 
 Of those same antique peers, the heaven's brood, 
 Which Greek and Asian rivers stained with their blood ; 
 
 and re-establish the power of the Britons, broken and en- 
 feebled by long wars against a foreign foe from a distant 
 land. The man ordained to be the spouse of Britomart, 
 he afterwards informed them, was Arthegal : he dwelt 
 in the Land of Fairy, yet was no fairy's son, nor related 
 at all to the race of the elf's, but of earthly lineage, 
 having only been in infancy stolen from his cradle by 
 the fairies, and imagining himself to be the offspring of 
 an elf and a fay. He was in truth the son of Gorlois, 
 Prince of Cornwall, and brother to Cador, now reigning 
 in that kingdom, and renowned for his warlike feats 
 from the rising: to the scttin<r sun. It was ordained
 
 OmtO III.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 25 
 
 that Britomart should bring him back to his native soil, 
 and that both he and she should give great proof of their 
 valour, until Arthegal should be cut off too early by the 
 treachery of secret foes. But his son by Britomart 
 (apparently the same who is called Aurelius Conan by 
 the old British historians) should remain the living re- 
 presentation of his sire ; and should take from his cousin 
 Constantius (or Constantine, son of Cad or) the crown 
 that had of right belonged to his father Arthegal. He, 
 after a reign in which he should fight three great battles 
 with the Saxons, two of them ending in the defeat of the 
 intruders, the third " in fair accordance," that is, ap- 
 parently, in an agreement or peace on equal terms, should 
 be succeeded by his son Voltipore " in kingdom, but not 
 in felicity." Voltipore's son Malgo, however, should 
 avenge the misfortunes ofhis father — Malgo, who should 
 reduce to subjection " the six islands, comprovincial in 
 ancient times unto great Britany," namely, Ireland, 
 Iceland, Gothland, the Orkneys, Norway, and Dacia 
 (that is, Denmark) ; all which his son Careticus should 
 well defend from the Saxon foe ; till great Gormond 
 (King of Africa), after having subdued Ireland, " and 
 therein fixed his throne," should come over with a mul- 
 titude of his Norveyses (or Norwegians) to assist the 
 latter — when their united bands, said Merlin, shall sack 
 and slay, and commit such devastation, that 
 
 ; the green grass that groweth they shall bren.i 
 
 That even the wild beast shall die in starved den." 
 
 In the rest of his address he continued the history of the 
 wars between the Saxons and Britons to the time of 
 Cadwallader, and his expulsion, towards the close of the 
 seventh century, to Annorica, or the Lesser Britain 
 " Then," he concluded, 
 
 "woe, and woe, and everlasting woe, 
 
 Be to the Briton babe that shall be born 
 
 To live in tharldom ofhis father's foe '. 
 
 Late king, now captive ; late lord, now forlorn ; 
 
 i Burn.
 
 26 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 The world's reproach ; the cruel victor's scorn ; 
 Banished from princely bower to wasteful wood ! 
 O ! who shall help ine to lament and mourn 
 The royal seed, the antique Trojan blood, 
 Whose empire longer here than ever any stood !" 
 
 But, he afterwards added, in reply to the further inquiries 
 of Britomart, the thraldom of the Britons was limited to 
 a certain term ; after twice four hundred years they should 
 be restored to their former rule and sovereignty ; and 
 then he sketched the remainder of the English story 
 through the Danish invasions, the Norman Conquest, the 
 Welsh revolts, to the acquisition of the crown by 
 Henry VII. of the Welsh House of Tudor. From that 
 time henceforth should be peace and eternal union be- 
 tween the two nations; — 
 
 " Then shall a royal virgin reign, which shall 
 Stretch her white rod over the Belgic shore. 
 And the great Castle smite so sore withal, 
 That it shall make him shake, and shortly learn to fall : 
 
 But yet the end is not." 
 
 The allusions here are explained as being to Queen 
 Elizabeth's protection of the revolted Netherlanders, and 
 her shaking the power of the Castilian (or Spanish) 
 King. At those last words the Magician paused, " as 
 overcomen of the spirit's power ;" but he soon recovered, 
 and dismissed the two women with his usual cheerful 
 I Tooks. When they had returned home, it was suggested 
 by the always ready Glance, that they should dis- 
 guise themselves in armour, and go and join King 
 /_ Arthur, now making war upon the Saxon brethren, Octa 
 and Oza (or Eosa, as the name is written by Geoffrey of 
 Monmouth) ; and this plan they executed by means of a 
 suit of armour belonging to Angela, Queen of the Angles 
 (a fictitious personage), which had a few days before 
 been taken by the Britons, and suspended by King 
 Ryence in his principal church ; witli this, and with a 
 spear which stood beside it, long before made by King 
 Bladud by magic art, and possessed of wondrous virtues, 
 the old woman arrayed Britomart, and then,
 
 Canto IV.] THE EAIBY QUEEN. 27 
 
 Another harness which did hang thereby 
 About herself she dight, that the young maid 
 She might in equal arms accompany, 
 And as her squire attend her carefully : 
 Tho to their ready steeds they clomb full light; 
 And through back ways, that none might them espy, 
 Covered with secret cloud of silent night, 
 Themselves they forth conveyed, and passed forward 
 right. 
 
 Nor did they rest till they came to Fairy Land, as 
 Merlin had directed them ; there Britomart and the Red- 
 cross Knight having met, as has already been told, for 
 some time journeyed and held discourse together ; till at 
 length, their ways separating, they bid each other affec- 
 tionately adieu — the Redcross Knight turning off in 
 another direction, Britomart continuing to ride lorward. 
 
 Arthegal is supposed to be designed for Spenser's 
 patron, Arthur Lord Grey of Wilton. 
 
 Canto IV. (61 stanzas).- The glory of ail antique 
 heroines, the pool assures us, is eclipsed bj thai of noble 
 Britomart; "well worthy stock," he exclaims, 
 
 from which the branches sprong 
 
 That in late years so fair a blossom bare, 
 As thee, Queen, the matter of my song, 
 Whose lineage from this lady I derive along. 
 
 She and her companion having parted, as has been told, 
 after binding themselves to each other in "a friendly 
 league of love perpetual," 
 
 — Britomart kept on her former course, 
 Ne ever doffed her arms ; but all the way- 
 Grew pensive through that amorous discourse, 
 By which the Redcross Knight did erst display 
 Her lover's shape and chivalrous array: 
 A thousand thoughts she fashioned in her mind ; 
 And in her feigning fancy did pourtray 
 Him, such as fittest she for love could find, 
 ■Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and kind. 
 
 At last she and her old squire come to the >ea-coast.
 
 23 SPENSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 Here sitting down, she pours out her lament to the waves, 
 not more restless than the billows of passion that toss her 
 heart : — 
 
 " Love, my lewd pilot, hath a restless mind ; 
 And Fortune, boatswain, no assurance knows ; 
 But sail withouten stars gainst tide and wind : 
 How can they other do, sith both are bold and blind ! 
 
 Thou god of winds, that reignest in the seas, 
 
 That reignest also in the continent, 
 
 At last blow up some gentle gale of ease." 
 
 She is soon roused, however, by the approach of an 
 armed and mounted knight, who when he conies up in- 
 stantly and sternly demands that she should fly without 
 loss of a moment from a way or road which he claims as 
 his own. 
 
 Ythrilled with deep disdain of his proud threat, 
 She shortly thus ; " Fly they, that need to fly ; 
 Words fearen babes : I mean not thee entreat 
 To pass ; but maugre thee will pass or die." 
 
 And with these words, staying for no reply, she dashes 
 against the stranger knight, who at the same time boldly 
 advances and strikes her full in the breast, so as to make 
 her 
 
 , down 
 
 Decline her head, and touch her crupper with her crown ; 
 
 but she, nevertheless, sends her spear through the three- 
 square scutcheon on his shield into his left side, and, 
 pitching him the full length of the shaft from his seat, 
 lays him on the sand tumbled together in a heap and 
 wallowing in his blood. 
 
 Like as the sacred ox, that careless stands 
 
 With gilden horns and flowery girlands crowned, 
 
 Proud of his dying honour and dear bands, 
 
 Whiles the altars fume with frankincense around, 
 
 All suddenly with mortal stroke astound 
 
 Doth grovelling fall, and with his streaming gore 
 
 Distains the pillars and the holy ground,
 
 Canto ft J THE FAIRY QUEEN. iii) 
 
 And the fair flowers that decked him afore : 
 So fell proud Mari nel upon the precious shore. 
 
 The meaning of the epithet thus given to the shore ap- 
 pears from the next stanza : — 
 
 The martial maid stayed not him to lament, 
 But forward rode, and kept her ready way 
 Along the strond ; which, as she over- went, 
 She saw bestrewed all with rich array 
 Of pearls and precious stones of great assay, 
 And all the gravel mixt with golden ore : 
 Whereat she wondered much, but would not stay 
 For gold, or pearls, or precious stones, an hour, 
 But them despised all ; for all was in her power. 
 
 Marinel, who has been thus overthrown, is the son of 
 black-browed Cym oent, daughter of great Nereus, by an 
 earthly father, " the famous Dumarin ;" he was brought 
 up by his mother in a rocky caveT 
 
 till he became 
 
 A mighty man at arms, and mickle fame 
 
 Did get through great adventures by him done . 
 
 For never man he suffered by that same 
 
 Kich strond to travel, whereas he did won, 
 
 But that he must do battle with the sea-nymph's son. 
 
 At the request of Cymoent, his grandfather had endowed 
 him with such abundance of wealth as never was pos- 
 sessed by offspring of earthly womb : — 
 
 his heaped waves he did command 
 
 Out of their hollow bosom forth to throw 
 All the huge threasure which the sea below 
 Had in his greedy gulf devoured deep, 
 And him enriched through the overthrow 
 And wrecks of many wretches, which did weep 
 And often wail their wealth which he from them did 
 keep. 
 
 Shortly upon that shore there heaped was 
 
 Exceeding riches and all precious things, 
 
 The spoil of all the world ; that it did pass 
 
 The wealth of the East, and pomp of Persian kings: 
 
 Gold, amber, ivory, pearls, owches, rings,
 
 30 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 And all that else was precious and dear, 
 The sea unto him voluntary brings ; 
 That shortly he a great lord did appear. 
 As was iu all the land of Fairy, or elsewhere. 
 
 Proteus had ere this alarmed Cymocnt by foretelling 
 her, though in the usual deluding language of prophecy, 
 what would be the fate of her son : he, 
 
 through foresight of his eternal skill, 
 
 Bade her from womankind to keep him well ; 
 
 For of a woman he should have much ill ; 
 
 A virgin strange and stout him should dismay or kill. 
 
 Forthy she gave him warning every day 
 The love of women not to entertain ; 
 A lesson too too hard for liviug clay, 
 From love in course of nature to refrain ! 
 Yet he his mother's lore did well retain, 
 And ever from fair ladies' love did fly ; 
 Yet many ladies fair did oft complain, 
 That they for love of him would algates die : 
 Die whoso list for him, he was love's enemy. 
 
 Tidings of what has befallen him are now brought to his 
 mother, 
 
 whereas she played 
 
 Amongst her watery sisters by a pond, 
 
 Gathering sweet daffodillies, to have made 
 
 Gay girlands from the sun their foreheads fair to shade. 
 
 After she recovers from the swoon into which she is 
 thrown by the news, 
 
 she bade her chariot to be brought ; 
 
 And all her sisters, that with her did sit, 
 
 Bade eke at once their chariots to be sought : 
 
 Tho, full of bitter grief and pensive thought, 
 
 She to her waggon clomb ; clomb all the rest, 
 
 And forth together went, with sorrow fraught : 
 
 The waves obedient to their behest 
 
 Them yielded' ready passage, and their rage surceast. 
 
 Great Neptune stood amazed at their sight, 
 Whilst on his broad round back they softly slid.
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAIKY QUEEN. 31 
 
 And eke himself mourned at their mournful plight, 
 
 Yet wist not what their wailing meant, yet did, 
 
 For great compassion of their sorrow, bid 
 
 His mighty waters to them buxom be : 
 
 Eftsoons the roaring billows still abid,r 
 
 And all the grisly monsters of the sea 
 
 Stood gaping at their gait, 8 and wondered them to see. 
 
 A team of dolphins ranged in array 
 
 Drew the smooth chariot of sad Cymoent ; 
 
 They were all taught by Triton to obey 
 
 To the long reins at her comniandement : 
 
 As swift as swallows on the waves they went, 
 
 That their broad flaggy fins no foam did rear, 
 
 Ne bubbling roundel they behind them sent ; 
 
 The rest, of other fishes drawen were, 
 
 Which with their finny oars the swelling sea did shear. 
 
 Arrived at the rich strand, they leave their chariots, 
 
 And let their timid fishes softly swim 
 
 Along the margent of the foamy shore, 
 
 Lest they their fins should bruise, and surbate 1 sore 
 
 Their tender feet upon the stony ground. 
 
 At sight of Marinel, his mother, we are told, made such 
 piteous moan, 
 
 That the hard rocks could scarce from tears refrain, 
 
 her sister nymphs accompanying: her with their sobs and 
 cries. She inveighs against " Fond Proteus, father of 
 false prophecies," and those more fond who believe him , 
 for here, as she says, is evidently no work of woman's 
 hand. Then, softly taking off his armour, and spreading 
 on the ground beneath him their " watchet," or blue, 
 mantles fringed with silver, they bind up the wound, and 
 pour into it 
 
 sovereign balm and nectar good, 
 
 Good both for earthly medicine and for heavenly food. 
 
 " The lily-handed Liagore," who had been taught leech- 
 
 r Abided, remained, 8 Going, progress. 
 
 ' Weary.
 
 32 Sl'ENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 craft by great Apollo, by whom she was the mother of 
 Paeon, now feels his pulse, and revives some hope in 
 the heart of Cymoent by assuring her that some little 
 spark of life still remains. On this they take him up in 
 their tender hands, and bear him softly to his mother's 
 chariot : — 
 
 Her team at her commandment quiet stands, 
 
 Whilst they the corse into her waggon rear, 
 
 And strew witli flowers the lamentable bier : 
 
 Then all the rest into their coaches climb, 
 
 And through the brackish waves their passage shear ; 
 
 Upon great Neptune's neck they softly swim, 
 
 And to her watery chamber swiftly carry him. 
 
 Deep in the bottom of the sea her bower 
 
 Is built of hollow billows heaped high, 
 
 Like to thick clouds that threat a stormy shower, 
 
 And vauted all within like to the sky, 
 
 In which the gods do dwell eternally : 
 
 There they him laid in easy couch well dight ; 
 
 And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply 
 
 Salves to his wounds, and medicines of might : 
 
 For Tryphon of sea-gods the sovereign leech is hight. 
 
 The story now returns to Prince Arthur and Guy on, 
 who, it may be remembered, were left in the First Canto 
 engaged in the pursuit of Florimel, while Timias, the 
 Prince's squire, went after the wicked foster from whom 
 the lady was flying. After chasing " the fearful damsel " 
 together for some time, 
 
 Through thick and thin, through mountains and through 
 plains, 
 
 the two knights had at last separated, each taking one 
 of two ways into which the road divided. It was the 
 Prince's fortune to choose that which brought him within 
 view of the lady, whom, however, he cannot prevail upon 
 to stop with all his courteous and re-assuring words ; so 
 that, after riding till clouds have covered the nocturnal 
 sky and concealed the long risen stars, he is obliged to 
 give up the hopeless attempt to catch her, and, dis- 
 mounting, he lays himself down on the grass to sleep.
 
 canto IV.] THE FAIKY QUEEN. 33 
 
 But no sleep will come ; a thousand fancies beat his idle 
 brain with their light wings ; he wishes and half hopes 
 that the lady fair may be his Fairy Queen herself ; and 
 he pours out his reproaches on the night, which has reft 
 her from him : — 
 
 " Night ! thou foul mother of annoyance sad, 
 Sister of heavy Death, and nurse of Woe, 
 Which wast begot in heaven, but for thy bad 
 And brutish shape thrust down to hell below, 
 Where, by the grim flood of Cocytus slow, 
 Thy dwelling is in Erebus' black house, 
 (Black Erebus, thy husband, is the foe 
 Of all the gods), where thou ungracious 
 Half of thy days dost lead in horror hideous ; 
 
 What had the Eternal Maker need of thee 
 
 The world in his continual course to keep, 
 
 That dost all things deface, ne lettest see 
 
 The beauty of his work ? Indeed in sleep 
 
 The slothful body that doth love to steep 
 
 His lustless limbs, and drown his baser mind, 
 
 Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deep 
 
 Calls thee his goddess, in his error blind, 
 
 And great dame Nature's handmaid cheering every kind 
 
 But well I wote that to an heavy heart 
 Thou art the root and nurse of bitter cares, 
 Breeder of new, renewer of old smart : 
 Instead of rest thou lendest railing u tears ; 
 Instead of sleep thou sendest troublous fears 
 \nd dreadful visions, in the which alive 
 The dreary image of sad Death appears : 
 90 from the weary spirit thou dost drive 
 Desired rest, and men of happiness deprive. 
 
 Under thy mantle black there hidden lie 
 Light-shunning Theft, and traitorous Intent, 
 Abhorred Bloodshed, and vile Felony, 
 Shameful Deceipt, and Danger imminent, 
 Foul Horror, and eke hellish Dreariment : 
 All these I wote in thy protection be, 
 And light do shun, for fear of being shent: 
 
 VOL. ii. "Trickling.
 
 34 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book lit 
 
 For light alike is loathed of tliem and thee; 
 
 And all that lewdness love do hate the light to see. 
 
 ■"o 1 - 
 
 For Day discovers all dishonest ways, 
 
 And sheweth each thing as it is in deed : 
 
 The praises of High God he fair displays, 
 
 And His large bounty rightly doth aread : 
 
 Day's dearest children be the blessed seed 
 
 Which Darkness shall subdue and heaven win : 
 
 Truth is his daughter ; he her first did breed 
 
 Most sacred virgin without spot of sin : 
 
 Our life is day ; but death with darkness doth begin. 
 
 O, when will Day then turn to me again, 
 
 And bring with him his long-expected light ! 
 
 O Titan ! haste to rear thy joyous wain ; 
 
 Speed thee to spread abroad thy bearnes bright. 
 
 And chase away this too long lingering Night ; 
 
 Chase her away, from whence she came, to hell : 
 
 She, she it. is, that hath me done despite : 
 
 There let her with the damned spirits dwell, 
 
 And yield her room to Day, that can it govern well.'' 
 
 Thus he spends the time " in restless anguish and un- 
 quiet pain," till the re-appearance of the light, when, 
 " half in great disdain," he again mounts his steed, and 
 "with heavy look and lumpish pace," the animal accom- 
 modating his steps to his master's mood of mind, pursues 
 his way. 
 
 Canto V. (55 stanzas). — The Prince rides long with- 
 out "finding a way out of the forest ; but at last meets a 
 dwarf, running along in affright, who, in reply to his 
 inquiry what he flies from or after, intimates in a few 
 hasty words, that he is in pursuit of his mistress, " a lady 
 of great sway and high account throughout all Elfin 
 Land," whom he had long served, and who had lately 
 set out from Fairy Court, and taken this road. Further 
 questioned, he describes her as " royally clad in cloth of 
 gold ;" adding, 
 
 " Her fair locks in rich circlet be enrolled, 
 A fairer wight did never sun behold ; 
 And on a palfrey rides more white than snow, 
 Yet she herself is whiter manifold-
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 85 
 
 The surest sign, whereby ye may her know, 
 Is, that she is the fairest wight alive, I trow." 
 
 It is clear that she is the lady whom the Prince had him- 
 self been lately pursuing. The Dwarf informs him that 
 she is a virgin renowned for her chastity and virtue ; that 
 she is named Florim el the Fair —   
 
 Fair Florimel, beloved of many a knight, 
 
 Yet she loves none but one, that Marinel is hight. 
 
 Marinel, however, warned by his mother against ladies' 
 love, " sets nought at all by Florimel." But it is now 
 reported that he is slain ; five days, they say, it is since 
 this happened, and it is four since Florimel left the court 
 of Fairy, vowing never to return till she should have 
 found him alive or dead. On hearing this relation the 
 Prince comforts the Dwarf by vowing never to forsake 
 him till they should learn tidings of his lady. Mean- 
 while Timias, his faithful squire, the loss of whom he 
 greatly laments, has fallen into evil plight. The foul 
 foster after whom he went in pursuit had escaped him ; 
 and had then gone and got his two brothers — 
 
 for they were three 
 
 Ungracious children of one graceless sire — 
 
 to undertake to revenge him on his assailant, who they 
 swore should never leave the forest alive. They had all 
 three accordingly attacked him at a ford over which they 
 knew he must pass : while the foster stationed on the 
 bank kept him from landing with his long boar-spear, 
 one of the others lurking in a neighbouring thicket let 
 fly at him a shaft "feathered with an unlucky quill," 
 which struck him in the left thigh, and inflicted exqui- 
 site pain ; yet he fought his way up the bank, and slew 
 one brother with his spear ; another (his first enemy, the 
 foster) by cleaving him in twain from the pannicle, or 
 brain-pan, to the chin ; and the third by- smiting off his 
 head. He himself, however, came off only with his life ; 
 the blood continuing to pour from his wound, he fell 
 from his steed in a swoon, and lay without sense or 
 motion : —
 
 36 SPKXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book 111, 
 
 Now God thee keep, thou gentlest squire alive ! 
 Else shall thy loving lord thee see no more. 
 
 But he is not in this state forgotten by heaven. Bel- 
 yhoebe, the beautiful huntress, by whose bright appari=~- 
 tion Braggadoccio was thrown into such a frighl in the 
 third Canto of the preceding Book, chanced at this time 
 to be pursuing in the forest some wild beast which she 
 had wounded, and was thus led to the spot where the 
 squire lay drenched in blood and seemingly dead. At 
 first when she saw him, 
 
 All suddenly abashed she changed hue, 
 
 And with stern horror backward gan to start : 
 
 But, when she better him beheld, she grew 
 
 Full of soft passion and unwonted smart : 
 
 The point of pity pierced through her tender heart. 
 
 Finding that his pulse still beat, she rubbed his temples, 
 undight his habergeon, or cuirass, and relieved his head 
 of his burganet, or helmet ; then, having great skill in 
 herbs, which she had been taught by the nymph who 
 had nursed her in her childhood, she went into the wood 
 to gather such as might prove serviceable in the present 
 case ; and 
 
 There, whether it divine tobacco were, 
 
 Or pauacha^a, or polygony, 
 
 She found, and brought it to her patient dear, 
 
 Who all this while lay bleeding out his heart-blood near. 
 
 The sovereign weed betwixt two marbles plain 
 She pounded small, and did in pieces bruise ; 
 And then atween her lilly handes twain 
 Into his wound the juice thereof did scruise ; v 
 And round about, as she could well it use, 
 The flesh therewith she suppled and did steep, 
 To abate all spasm and soak the swelling bruise ; 
 And, after having searched the intuse w deep, 
 She with her scarf did bind the wound, from cold to 
 keep. . 
 
 lie was not long in opening his eyes, when, turning 
 round and seeing " the goodly maid, full of divinities 
 
 v Squeeze. w Contusion.
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 37 
 
 and gifts of heavenly grace," sitting by him, with her 
 bow "and gilded quiver lying on the ground, 
 
 " Mercy ! dear Lord," said he, " what grace is this 
 
 That thou hast shewed to me, sinful wight, 
 
 To send thine angel from her bower of bliss 
 
 To comfort me in my distressed plight ! 
 
 Angel, or goddess do 1 call thee right ? 
 
 What service may I do unto thee meet, 
 
 That hast from darkness me returned to light, 
 
 And with thy heavenly salves and medecines sweet 
 
 Hast drest my sinful wounds ? I kiss thy blessed feet." 
 
 She had but time to tell him, blushing, that she was 
 neither goddess nor angel, but a wood-nymph's daughter, 
 when her damsels, who had been hunting along with 
 her, came up ; and now, the squire's horse being soon 
 found, they set him upon it, and took him along with 
 them. 
 
 / Into that forest far they thence him led 
 
 Where was their dwelling; in a pleasant glade 
 
 With mountains round about environed 
 
 And mighty woods, which did the valley shade, 
 
 And like a stately theatre it made, 
 
 Spreading itself into a spacious plain ; 
 
 And in the midst a little river played 
 
 Amongst the pumy stones, which seemed to plain 
 
 With gentle murmur that his course they did restrain. 
 
 Beside the same a dainty place there lay, 
 
 Planted with myrtle trees and laurels green, 
 
 In which the birds sung many a lovely lay 
 
 Of God's high praise, and of their loves' sweet teen, 1 
 
 As it an earthly paradise had been: 
 
 In whose enclosed shadow there was pight y 
 
 A fair pavilion, scarcely to be seen, 
 
 The which was all within most richly dight, 
 
 That greatest princes living it mote well delight. 
 
 Timias soon recovered of his wound, but lost his heart. 
 
 Ah God ! what other could he do at least, 
 
 But love so fair a lady that his life releast ! 
 /--. . 
 
 * Pleasing pain. } Pitched. 
 
 271744
 
 38 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 He struggles long to subdue his passion. "Fool!" he 
 says to himself, 
 
 " what boots thy service base 
 
 r 
 
 To her, to whom the heavens do serve and sue ? 
 Thou, a mean squire, of meek and lowly place ; 
 She, heavenly born and of celestial hue." 
 
 But it is all in vain. Yet, while Belphcebe sees him 
 pining away, he never allows her to suspect the true 
 cause. 
 
 She, gracious lady, yet no pains did spare 
 
 To do him ease, or do him remedy : 
 
 Many restoratives of virtues rare 
 
 And costly cordials she did apply, 
 
 To mitigate his stubborn malady : 
 
 But that sweet cordial, which can restore 
 
 A love-sick heart, she did to him envy ; 
 
 To him, and all the unworthy world forlore, 
 
 She did envy that sovereign salve in secret store. 
 
 That dainty rose, the daughter of her morn, 
 
 More dear than life she tendered, whose flower 
 
 The girland of her honour did adorn : 
 
 Ne suffered she the mid-day's scorching power, 
 
 Ne the sharp northern wind, thereon to shower ; 
 
 But lapped up her silken leaves most chair, 1 
 
 Whenso the froward sky began to lower ; 
 
 But, soon as calmed was the crystal air, 
 
 She did it fair dispread and let to flourish fair. 
 
 Eternal God, in his almighty power, 
 
 To make ensample of his heavenly grace. 
 
 In Paradise whilome did plant this flower ; 
 
 Whence he it fetcht out of her native place, 
 
 And did in stock of earthly flesh enrace, 
 
 That mortal men her glory should admire. 
 
 In gentle ladies' breast and bounteous race 
 
 Of womankind it fairest flower doth spire," 
 
 And beareth fruit of honour and all chaste desire. 
 
 Timias is understood to stand for Sir Walter Raleigh. 
 Canto VI. (54 stanzas). — In this Canto the poet pro- 
 
 3 Chary, careful. a Shoot forth. 

 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 39 
 
 ceeds to satisfy the curiosity which he conceives must 
 be felt by his lady readers, by relating the story of the 
 birth and upbringing of the " noble damosel " with 
 whom poor Timias has been thus smitten. To this fair 
 Belphcebe, he tells us, " in her birth, the heavens so 
 favourable were and free," 
 
 That all the gifts of grace and chastity 
 On her they poured forth of plenteous horn : 
 Jove laughed on Venus from his sovereign see, b 
 And Phuebus with fair beams did her adorn, 
 And all the Graces rocked her cradle being born. 
 
 He goes on to state that 
 
 Her birth was of the womh of morning dew, 
 And her conception of the joyous prime ; 
 
 — as it is said in the old translation of the 110th Psalm. 
 " The dew of thy birth is of the womb of the morning ;'* 
 — that her mother was the fair Chrysogone, the daughter 
 of Amphisa, a lady of high rank and fairy lineage. Be- 
 sides Belphcebe, Chrysogone bore another daughter, 
 " fair Amoretta in the second place :" — 
 
 These two were twins, and twixt them two did share 
 
 The heritage of all celestial grace ; 
 
 That all the rest it seemed they robbed bare 
 
 Of bounty, and of beauty, and all virtues rare. 
 
 They were not " enwombed in the sacred throne of her 
 chaste body " as " other women's common brood ;" 
 
 But wondrously they were begot and bred 
 
 Through influence of the heaven's fruitful ray, 
 
 As it in antique books is mentioned. 
 
 It was upon a summer's shiny day, 
 
 When Titan fair his beames did display, 
 
 In a fresh fountain, far from all men's view, 
 
 She bathed her breast the boiling heat to allay; 
 
 She bathed with roses red and violets blue, 
 
 And all the sweetest flowers that in the forest grew. 
 
 When faint through weariness, she laid herself down 
 
 "> Seat.
 
 40 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book lit. 
 
 upon the grassy ground and fell asleep ; and her con- 
 ception was the effect of the sun. Ashamed, though 
 conscious of no guilt, she fled with her burthen into the 
 wilderness. There, having one day sefiierself down to 
 rest after long travel, sleep again fell upon her. Now 
 it so chanced that at this time Venus had left her heavenly 
 house — 
 
 The house of goodly forms and fair aspects, 
 "Whence all the world derives the glorious 
 Features of beauty, and all shapes select, 
 With which high God his workmanship hath deckt, — 
 
 to look after " her little son, the winged God of Love," 
 who had fled from her " for some light displeasance," as 
 he had often done before, wandering about in the world, 
 and disguising himself in a thousand shapes. She sought 
 him in the court, in cities, and then in the country, 
 where 
 
 the gentle shepherd swains, which sat 
 
 Keeping their fleecy flocks as they were hired 
 She sweetly heard complain both how and what 
 Her son had to them done ; yet she did smile thereat. 
 
 At last she resolved to repair to the woods, 
 
 In which full many lovely nymphs abide ; 
 Mougst whom might be that he did closely lie, 
 Or that the love of some of them him tied. 
 
 There she found Diana with her companions seated 
 around a fountain, resting- themselves in the cool shade — 
 their mistress herself, with her bow and painted quiver 
 hung on a neighbouring bough, her silver buskins un- 
 laced, all her dress loosened, and her golden locks hang- 
 ing undight about her shoulders. Ashamed and half 
 angry with her damsels for allowing her to be so sur- 
 prised, she gathered her garments about her as well as 
 she could, and rising up advanced to meet her sister 
 goddess, 
 
 Whiles all her nymphs did like a girland her enclose. 
 When Venus informed her what had brought her to the
 
 Canto VI.] THE TAIRT QUEEN. 41 
 
 wilderness, she smiled in scorn " of her vain plaint ;" but 
 the other replied to her contemptuous words, that it ill 
 became her, with her lofty crest, 
 
 To scorn the joy that Jove is glad to seek ; 
 
 and then proceeded narrowly to inspect each of the 
 nymphs, in the notion that one of them might possibly be 
 her lost boy in disguise. 
 
 But Phoebe therewith sore was angered, 
 
 And sharply said : " Go, dame ; go, seek your boy 
 
 Where you him lately left, in Mars his bed : 
 
 He comes not here ; we scorn his foolish joy, 
 
 Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy : 
 
 But, if I catch him in this company, 
 
 By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy 
 
 The gods do dread, he dearly shall aby : c 
 
 I' 11 clip his wanton wings that he no more shall fly." 
 
 Whom whenas Venus saw so sore displeased, 
 
 She inly sorry was, and gan relent 
 
 What she had said : so her she soon appeased 
 
 With sugared words and gentle blandishment, 
 
 Which as a fountain from her sweet lips went 
 
 And welled goodly forth, that in short space 
 
 She was well pleased, and forth her damsels sent 
 
 Through all the woods, to search from place to place 
 
 If any tract of him or tidings they mote trace. 
 
 To search the god of love her nymphs she sent 
 
 Throughout the wandering forest every where : 
 
 And after them herself eke with her went 
 
 To seek the fugitive both far and near. 
 
 While thus engaged they came to the place where lay 
 Ohrysogone, and, wonderful to tell, by her side two 
 new-born babes " as fair as springing day," which she 
 had brought forth, without pain, and unawares, in her 
 slumbrous trance. The goddesses agreed not to awake 
 the mother, but to take the babes from her loving side, 
 each appropriating one. Diana gave her's one of her 
 own names, Belphcebe, and committed her to a nymph 
 " to be upbrought in perfect maidenhead :" 
 
 c Suffer.
 
 42 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 But Venus her's thence far away conveyed, 
 To be upbrought in goodly womanhead ; 
 And, in her little Love's stead which was strayed, 
 Her Amoretta called, to comfort her dismayed. 
 
 I 
 
 She brought her to her joyous paradise 
 
 Where most she wong when she on earth does dwell, 
 
 So fair a place as nature can devise : 
 
 Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill, 
 
 Or it in Gnidus be, I wote not well ; 
 
 But well I wote by trial, that this same 
 
 All other pleasant places doth excel, 
 
 And called is, by her lost lover's name, 
 
 The Garden of Adonis, far renowmed by fame. 
 
 From this garden are brought all the goodly flowers 
 wherewith Dame Nature beautifies herself; there is the 
 first seminary of all things born to live and die, according 
 to their kinds ; it were an endless work to enumerate 
 " all the weeds that bloom and blossom there." It had 
 two walls, the one of iron, the other of gold ; and two 
 gates always standing open, " the one fair and fresh, the 
 other old and dried." Old Genius was the porter at both 
 — "old Genius, the which a double nature has." All 
 who desire to come into the world he lets both in and 
 out : 
 
 A thousand thousand naked babes attend 
 J \ About him day and night, which do require 
 
 That he with fleshly weeds would them attire : 
 Such as him list, such as eternal fate 
 Ordained hath, he clothes with sinful mire, 
 And sendeth forth to live in mortal state, 
 Till they again return back by the hinder gate. 
 
 After that they again returned been, 
 O 1 ^ They in that garden planted be again, 
 ** And grow afresh, as they had never seen 
 Fleshly corruption nor mortal pain : 
 Some thousand years so doen they there remain, 
 And then of him are clad with other hue, 
 Or sent into the changeful world again, 
 Till thither they return where first they grew : 
 So, like a wheel, around they run from old to new.
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 43 
 
 -^ . Ne needs there gardener to set or sow, 
 ' To plant or prune ; for of their own accord 
 All things, as they created were, do grow, 
 And yet remember well the mighty word 
 Which first was spoken by the Almighty Lord, ^<\v 
 That bade them to increase and multiply : 
 Ne do they need, with water of the ford 
 Or of the clouds, to moisten their roots dry ; 
 For in themselves eternal moisture they imply. 
 
 . Infinite shapes of creatures are there bred, both human 
 ^^and bestial ; and although some are constantly sent away 
 to replenish the earth, yet is the stock never diminished, 
 for " in the wide womb of the world" lies a huge eternal 
 chaos out of which comes continually a new supply. 
 Besides, nothing is consumed or annihilated, but only 
 changed ; that is to say, only the form is altered — the 
 substance remains : 
 
 For forms are variable, and decay 
 By course of kind and by occasion ; 
 And that fair flower of beauty fades away, 
 As doth the lily fresh before the sunny ray. 
 
 'Great enemy to it, and to all the rest 
 That in the Garden of Adonis springs, 
 Is wicked Time ; who with his scythe addrest 
 Does mow the flowering herbs and goodly things, 
 And all their glory to the ground down flings, 
 Where they do wither and are foully marred : 
 He flies about, and with his flaggy wings 
 Beats down both leaves and buds without regard. 
 
 But, were it not that Time their troubler is, 
 All that in this delightful garden grows 
 Should happy be, and have immortal bliss : 
 For here all plenty and all pleasure flows ; 
 And sweet Love gentle fits amongst them throws, 
 Without fell rancour or fond jealousy : 
 Frankly each paramour his leman knows ; 
 Each bird his mate ; ne any does envy 
 Their goodly merriment and gay felicity. 
 
 There is continual spring, and harvest there 
 Continual, both meeting at one time :
 
 44 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. TBook III. 
 
 For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear, 
 And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime, 
 And eke at once the heavy trees they climb, 
 Which seem to labour under their fruits' load : 
 The whiles the joyous birds make their pastime 
 Amongst the shady leaves, their sweet abode, 
 And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad. 
 
 Eight in the middest of that paradise 
 
 There stood a stately mount, on whose round top 
 
 A gloomy grove of myrtle trees did rise, 
 
 Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop, 
 
 Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop, 
 
 But like a girland compassed the height, 
 
 And from their fruitful sides sweet gum did drop, 
 
 That all the ground, with precious dew bedight, 
 
 Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet delight 
 
 And in the thickest covert of that shade 
 
 There was a pleasant arbour, not by art 
 
 But of the trees' own inclination made, 
 
 Which knitting their rank branches part to part, 
 
 With wanton ivy-twine entrailed athwart, 
 
 And eglantine and caprifole among, 
 
 Fashioned above within their inmost part, 
 
 That neither Phoebus' beams could through them throng 
 
 Nor iEolus' sharp blast could work them any wrong. 
 
 And all about grew every sort of flower. 
 
 To which sad lovers were transformed of yore ; 
 
 Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus' paramour 
 
 And dearest love ; 
 
 Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watery shore ; 
 
 Sad Amaranthus, made a flower but late, 
 
 Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore 
 
 Me seems I see Aminta's wretched fate, 
 
 To whom sweet poet's verse hath given endless date. 
 
 There Venus was often wont to enjoy the company of 
 her dear Adonis ; and 
 
 There yet, some say, in secret he does lie, 
 Lapped in flowers and precious spicery, 
 By her hid from the world, and from the skill 
 Of Stygian gods, which do her love envy :
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 45 
 
 but she herself, whenever she wills, still lias him all her 
 own. " And sooth it seems they say ;" for he, although 
 he be subject to mortality, may not 
 
 For ever die, and ever buried be 
 
 In baleful night, where all things are forgot ; 
 
 he is eternal in mutability ; often transformed, but never 
 destroyed ; 
 
 For him the father of all forms they call ; 
 Therefore needs mote he live, that living gives to all. 
 
 This is the doctrine of the ancient philosophical mytho- 
 logy, according to which Venus is ever-fluctuatingyo/7#, 
 Adonis everlasting - matter. There he lives in eternal 
 bliss and never-ending joy, the boar that wounded him 
 imprisoned by Venus for aye in a strong rocky cave hewn 
 underneath that mount : — 
 
 There now he lives in everlasting joy, 
 
 With many of the gods in company 
 
 Which thither haunt, and with the winged boy, 
 
 Sporting himself in safe felicity : 
 
 Who when he hath with spoils and cruelty 
 
 Pansacked the world, and in the woeful hearts 
 
 Of many wretches set his triumphs high, 
 
 Thither resorts, and, laying his sad darts 
 
 Aside, with fair Adonis plays his wanton parts. 
 
 And his true love fair Psyche with him plays, 
 Fair Psyche to him lately reconciled, 
 After long troubles and unmeet upbrays, d 
 With which his mother Venus her reviled, 
 And eke himself her cruelly exiled : 
 But now in stedfast love and happy state 
 She with him lives, and hath him borue a child, 
 Pleasure, that doth both gods and men aggrate, e 
 Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and Pysche late. 
 
 Hither, then, Venus brought Amoretta, and gave her in 
 charge to Psyche to be by her " trained up in true femi- 
 
 d Upbraidings e Gratify, please.
 
 46 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 nity;" and Psyche "tendered" her no less carefully 
 than her own daughter Pleasure, to whom she 
 
 Made her companion, and her lessoned 
 
 In all the lore of love and goodly womanhead ; 
 
 in which when she had grown to perfect ripeness, she 
 brought her forth into the world's view to be the ex- 
 ample of true love, 
 
 And loadstar of all chaste affection 
 
 To all fair ladies that do live on ground. 
 
 Coming to Fairy Court, she there wounded many 
 hearts ; 
 
 But she to none of them her love did cast, 
 Save to the noble knight Sir Scudaniore ; 
 
 the story of her faithful enduring attachment to whom, 
 however, is deferred for the present, till we have heard 
 what happened to Florimel in her further search for 
 " her lover dear, her dearest Marinel." 
 
 We have Spenser's own testimony, in his letter to 
 Raleigh, that by Belphcebe he, partly or occasionally at 
 least, designs to picture Elizabeth ; and it is a notion of 
 some of the commentators that Amoretta in this Canto 
 may be intended to shadow forth Mary Stuart. But 
 scarcely any one of these interpretations will be found to 
 hold good throughout. 
 
 Canto VII. (u'l stanzas). — Florimel, continuing to fly 
 even when no one pursued, rode hard all the night, and 
 then, when her white palfrey could carry her no longer, 
 proceeded on foot till she found herself on the declivity 
 of a hill overlooking a little woody valley, where a thin 
 smoke rising among the trees directed her wearied steps 
 .to a little cottage built of sods and thatched with reeds. 
 Tins proves to be the miserable abode of a malignant 
 witch, who is, however, moved to compassion by the 
 maid*s tears and desolate condition ; and the latter, in- 
 vited to enter, seats herself beside the hag on the dusty 
 ground, " as glad of that small rest as bird of tempest 
 gone." "When she has put in such order as she can her
 
 Canto VII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 47 
 
 -.orn garments and dishevelled hair, she so astonishes her 
 rude hostess by her magnificent beauty, that, doubting 
 whether she were not a goddess, or, at the least, one of 
 Diana's nymphs, she is almost ready to fall down and 
 adore her ; and, in truth, enthusiastically exclaims the 
 poet, 
 
 To adore thing so divine as beauty were but right. 
 
 She awakens the same wonder and awe in the witch's 
 son, a lazy good-for-nothing fellow, who lives with his 
 mother, when she first flashes upon his sight on his re- 
 turn home at undertime (or the decline of the day) ; and, 
 even for a considerable while that she remains with them, 
 although he soon begins to look upon her with other 
 thoughts, and she on her part by her meek and mild de- 
 meanour and her gentle speech encourages their fami- 
 liarity, yet something divine about her still restrains him 
 from uttering his feelings and wishes. " His caitiff 
 thought durst not so high aspire." At length, however, 
 finding both herself and her palfrey completely restored, 
 she quietly withdraws herself from the " desert mansion" 
 one morning before the dawn of day. The hag and her 
 son, on awaking and finding their guest gone, both fall 
 to moaning as if they had been undone ; the son in par- 
 ticular is frantic with grief and rage. The witch now 
 sets to work to endeavour either to bring her back again, 
 or to work her destruction, by her devilish arts and in- 
 cantations. 
 
 Eftsoons out of her hidden cave she called 
 
 An hideous beast of horrible aspect, 
 
 That could the stoutest courage have appalled ; 
 
 Monstrous, mishaped, and all his back was sped 
 
 "With thousand spots of colours quaint elect ; ' 
 
 Thereto so swift that it all beasts did pass : 
 
 Like never yet did living eye detect ; 
 
 But likest it to an hyena was 
 
 That feeds on women's flesh, as others feed on grass. 
 
 This beast she charges to pursue Florimel, and either 
 ' Quaintly chosen.
 
 43 SPENSER AND HIS JPOJETRY. [Book III. 
 
 capture or devour her. " The monster,' swift as word 
 that from her went," soon comes within sight of the Hy- 
 ing damsel ; and, spite first of the efforts of her nimble 
 steed and then of her own fleet limbs, she would have 
 become his prey, had she not, as she reached the sea- 
 shore, leapt into a little boat that chanced to lie floating 
 close to the spot, with the old fisherman asleep in it 
 while his nets are drying on the sand, and instantly 
 pushed it off with the oar. The monster is obliged to 
 satisfy himself with wreaking his spite on the palfrey ; 
 but, while he is tearing the poor milk-white beast to 
 pieces, suddenly there comes riding up to the place the 
 good knight SjrjSatyxane, whom the reader will remem- 
 ber as Una's protector in the Sixth Canto of the First 
 Book, and who, we may here notice, is supposed to be 
 intended to represent Sir John Perrot, generally be- 
 lieved to be a natural son of Henry VIII., who had been 
 Lord Deputy of Ireland from 1583 to 1588; but, in 
 1590, when these first three Books of the Fairy Queen 
 were published, was lying a prisoner in the Tower, where, 
 after having been brought to trial and by an iniquitous 
 verdict found guilty of high treason, he died in Septem- 
 ber, 1592. Satyrane, it seems, is a lover of Florimel, 
 and, knowing her palfrey, he greatly fears that some evil 
 has happened " to that fair maid, the flower of woman's 
 pride." He finds, too, her golden girdle, which she had 
 dropt in her flight, and that confirms his apprehensions. 
 But this riband, "which that virgin wore about her 
 slender waist," proves immediately of great service in 
 binding the monster, whom Satyrane only subdues by 
 the most Herculean exertions, and neither with strength 
 nor sword can destroy — " his maker with her charms had 
 framed him so well :" as soon as he felt the touch of the 
 girdle, he roared aloud, we are told, 
 
 For great despite of that unwonted band, 
 
 Yet dared not his victor to withstand, 
 
 But trembled like a lamb fled from the prey; 
 
 And all the way him followed on the strand 
 
 As he had long been learned to obey ; 
 
 Yet never learned he such service till that day.
 
 Canto VII/ THE FAIRY QUEEX. 49 
 
 But a new adventure is at hand for the stout Sir 
 Satyrane. As he is thus leading the beast along he per- 
 ceives at a distance a giantess flying on a dapple grey 
 courser from a knight who pursues her with all his 
 might, while before her, lying athwart her horse, she- 
 bears a doleful squire bound hand and foot. Satyrane 
 lets go his captive beast, and, when he couches his spear 
 and runs at the giantess, she also instantly addresses 
 herself to light and throws aside her load : 
 
 Like as a goshawk, that in foot doth bear 
 
 A trembling culver,s having spied on height 
 
 An eagle that with plumy wings doth shear 
 
 The subtile air, stooping with all his might, 
 
 The quarry throws to ground with fell despite, 
 
 And to the battle doth herself prepare : 
 
 So ran the giantess unto the fight ; 
 
 Her fiery eyes with furious sparks did stare, 
 
 And with blasphemous banns High God in pieces tear. 
 
 She proves more than a match for Satyrane, whom, after 
 having stunned him with a blow of her huge iron mace, 
 
 i • i 
 
 she plucks out of his saddle, and is carrying off with 
 her, laid athwart her horse, much as she had had the 
 squire, when the other knight comes up and attacks her, 
 and she is again compelled to drop her prey. With this 
 new assailant, however, she has no inclination to fight, 
 but tries to escape from him by flight as before. Mean- 
 while Satyrane comes up to the squire, whom he finds to 
 be a singularly handsome youth, and who, as soon as he 
 has been set at liberty from his fetters, proceeds to ex- 
 plain what they have seen. The giantess, he tells 
 Satyrane, is the terrible Argante, of the race of the Titans; 
 she and her twin brother, the might y Qliph ant, were the 
 children of Earth, by her own son Typhosus. She is a 
 very monster and miracle of licentiousness ; he himself, 
 the squire states, is only one of innumerable youths whom 
 ahe had carried off. " As for my name," says he, " it 
 mistreth not (it signifies not) to tell :" 
 " Call me the Squire of Dames ; that me beseemeth well " 
 
 J Pigeon. 
 vol. if. E
 
 50 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 The knight, he goes on to relate, whom Sir Satyrane 
 had seen pursuing the giantess, is no knight, but a " fair 
 virgin," called PaJladine, famous for deeds of arms, above 
 all dames and even many knights: " Ne any," says he, 
 
 -" may that monster match in fight, 
 
 But she, or such as she, that is so chaste a wight.'' 
 
 The Squire of Dames then relates his own story, which 
 is imitated from the Host's Tale in the Twenty-eighth 
 Canto of the Orlando Furioso. Fair Col um bel, the 
 gentle lady whom he loves and serves, having charged 
 him to go forth and try how many other ladies he could 
 win, he had found such favour with the sex, that ere the 
 end of the year he had returned to her, bringing with 
 him the pledges of no fewer than three hundred con- 
 quests. His reward was that he should forthwith resume 
 his travels, and not again present himself before her till 
 he should have found as many other dames who should 
 "abide for ever chaste and sound," for all the suit he 
 could make to them. " Ah gentle squire," quoth 
 Satyrane, 
 
 " tell at one word, 
 
 How many foundst thou such to put in thy record ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Sir Knight," said he, " one word may tell 
 All that I ever found so wisely stayed, 
 For only three they were disposed so well ; 
 And yet three years I now abroad have strayed 
 To find them out." 
 
 And of the three the only one who refused the love of 
 the comely squire on principle was a damsel of low de- 
 gree, the inmate of a country cottage ; yet he admits that 
 this one was as fair as she was good. 
 
 " Perdy," said Satyrane, " thou Squire of Dames, 
 Great labour fondly hast thou hent h in hand, 
 To get small thanks, and therewith many blames ; 
 That may amongst Alcides' labours stand." 
 Thence back returning to the former land, 
 
 h Taken.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 51 
 
 Where late he left the beast he overcame, 
 He found him not ; for he had broke his band, 
 And was returned again unto his dame, 
 To tell what tidings of fair Florimel became. 
 
 Canto V III.- (52 stanzas).— The sight of Florimei's 
 sirille, which he takes as evidence of her death, drives 
 the witch's son to distraction ; upon which his mother 
 boldly sets to work to fabricate by her art a lady of snow- 
 so like that it will be next to impossible to find out that 
 she is not the one that has been lost. The snow, 
 gathered by herself in a shady glade of the Riphagan 
 hills, she tempers " with fine mercury, and virgin wax 
 that never yet was sealed," and with the whole mingles 
 an infusion of vermilion so as to produce a lively sanguine. 
 Then, 
 
 Instead of eyes two burning lamps she set 
 
 In silver sockets, shining like the skies, 
 
 And a quick moving spirit did arret 1 
 
 To stir and roll them like to women's eyes : 
 
 Instead of yellow locks she did devise 
 
 With golden wire to weave her curled head : 
 
 Yet golden wire was not so yellow thrice 
 
 As FlorimcTs fair hair : and, in the stead 
 
 Of life, she put a sprite to rule the carcass dead. 
 
 The spirit is one that long ago had fallen from heaven 
 with the Prince of Darkness, one that was fraught abov-* 
 all others with fawning guile, 
 
 And all the wiles of women's wit knew passing well. 
 
 The witch's son has no doubt that it is Florimel, and 
 makes himself very happy, though the spirit continues 
 to maintain a coy demeanour. At length one day, while 
 they are walking in the woods together, they are seen 
 by the vaunting Braggadoccio, who boldly seizing th* 
 lady sets her on Trompart's steed, and rides off with hei 
 But he is soon forced to resign her to " an armed knight 
 upon a courser strong," whom they meet, and out of 
 whose hands Braggadoccio is glad to escape by a cha- 
 
 •Appomt. e
 
 52 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. 'Book III. 
 
 racteristic stratagem with his person safe, though with 
 the loss of his love. The knight supposes that it is 
 Florimel he has found ; but that lady is far away, under- 
 going great distresses and fortunes strange. Her first 
 danger has been from the passion kindled in the old 
 fisherman, when, on awakening from his sleep, he beheld 
 that marvellous beauty of hers, 
 
 Which with rare light his boat did beautify. 
 
 " O !" exclaims the poet, 
 
 O ! ye brave knights, that boast this lady's love, 
 Where be ye now ! 
 
 • • • * 1 
 
 If that thou, Sir Satyrane, didst weet, 
 
 Or thou, Sir Peridure, her sorry state, 
 How soon would ye assemble many a fleet, 
 To fetch from sea that ye at land lost late ! 
 Towers, cities, kingdoms, ye would ruinate 
 In your avengement and despiteous rage, 
 Ne ought your burning fury mote abate 
 But, if Sir Calidore could it presage, 
 No living creature could his cruelty assuage. 
 
 But, in the absence of all these her old adorers, heaven 
 does not leave her without succour. It chances in her 
 extremity that Proteus, shepherd of the seas, passes near, 
 
 Along the foamy waves driving his finny drove ; 
 
 and he, at her cries, steering to the place his swift 
 chariot, — 
 
 Which, with a team of scaly phocas hound, 
 
 Was drawn upon the waves that foamed him around — 
 
 soon rescues her from the brutal fisherman. When she 
 first looked up and beheld her deliverer, 
 
 For shame, but more for fear of his grim sight, 
 
 Down in her lap she hid her face, and loudly shright :•* 
 
 but Proteus did his best to recomfort her : 
 
 j Shrieked.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIKY QUEEN. 53 
 
 Her up betwixt his nigged hands he reared, 
 
 And with his frory k lips full softly kist, 
 
 Whiles the cold icicles from his rough beard 
 
 Dropped adown upon her ivory breast : 
 
 Yet he himself so busily addrest, 
 
 That her out of astonishment he wrought ; 
 
 And, out of that same fisher's filthy nest 
 
 Kemoving her, into his chariot brought, 
 
 And there with many gentle terms her fair besought. 
 
 The fisherman, after dragging him for some time behind 
 his chariot through the waves, he at last casts ashore ; but 
 Florimel he takes with him to his bower, a cave hol- 
 lowed out under a mighty rock at the bottom of the sea : 
 
 There was his won ;' ne living wight was seen, 
 Save one old nymph, bight Panope, to keep it clean. 
 
 Florimel steadily resists all the sea-god"s allurements, and 
 is proof against all the various disguises he assumes to 
 win her love : 
 
 Sometimes he boasted that a god he hight ; 
 
 But she a mortal creature loved best : 
 
 Then he Avould make himself a mortal wight ; 
 
 But then she said she loved none but a Fairy knight. 
 
 Then like a Fairy knight himself he drest ; 
 
 For every shape on him he could endue : 
 
 Then like a king he was to her exprest, 
 
 And offered kingdoms unto her in view 
 
 To be his leman and his lady true : 
 
 But, when all this he nothing saw pi'evail, 
 
 With harder means he cast her to subdue. 
 
 And with sharp threats he often did assail ; 
 
 So thinking for to make her stubborn courage quail. 
 
 To dreadful shapes he did himself transform : 
 Now like a giant ; now like to a fiend ; 
 Then like a centaur ; then like to a storm 
 Raging within the waves: thereby he weened 
 Her will to win unto his wished eend : '" 
 But when witb fear, nor favour, nor witli all 
 He else could do, he saw himself esteemed, 
 
 k Frozen. ' Dwelling.
 
 54 SPENSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book III. 
 
 Down in a dungeon deep he let her fall* 
 
 And threatened there to make her his eternal thrall. 
 
 And here for the present the poet leaves her, with this 
 laudatory tribute : — 
 
 Most virtuous virgin ! glory be thy meed, 
 And crown of heavenly praise with saints above, 
 Where most sweet hymns of this thy famous deed 
 Are still amongst them sung, that far my rhymes exceed . 
 
 Meanwhile Salyrane, — 
 
 having ended with that Squire of Dames 
 
 A long discourse of his adventures vain, 
 
 The which himself than ladies more defames, — 
 
 lias returned with his new companion to the road in 
 which he was proceeding when he encountered the 
 giantess. They have not gone far when they perceive 
 
 a knight fair pricking on the plain, 
 
 As if he were on some adventure bent, 
 
 whom, 
 
 Both by the burning heart which on his breast 
 He bare, and by the colours in his crest, 
 
 Satyrane soon discovers to be his friend Sir -Earidcl . 
 When they have saluted, Paridel tells him that mirth 
 has been turned to mourning at Fairy Court by the news 
 of the destruction of Marinel and the departure of Flori- 
 inel to find him ; " and after her," lie adds, 
 
 All the brave knights, that doen in arms excel, 
 
 To saveguard her y wandered all alone : 
 
 Amongst the rest my lot (unworthy) is to be one." 
 
 Ah ! gentle knight," said then Sir Satyrane, 
 
 " Thy labour all is lost ; I greatly dread, 
 
 That hast a thankless service on thee ta'en, 
 
 And off'erest sacrifice unto the dead : 
 
 For dead, I surely doubt, thou mayest aread 
 
 Henceforth for ever Florimel to be : 
 
 That all the noble Knights of Maidenhead,
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIR5T QUEEN. 5j 
 
 Which her adored, may sore repent with me, 
 And all fair ladies may for ever sorry be." 
 
 He then relates what he had seen, the monster devour- 
 ing her palfrey, adding that he had besides found her 
 golden girdle cast away. Paridel, however, though he 
 admits, with deepest sorrow, that "the lady's safety is 
 sore to be drad," like a true-hearted knight, will not 
 give up his quest ; and Satyrane then also declares that 
 he will not be long behind him. For the present they 
 both agree, on the proposal of the Squire of Dames, to 
 seek shelter for the night in a castle which they see 
 a little way off. But when they come up to the gate, 
 very much to their surprise, and contrary to all the usages 
 of chivalry, they are refused admission : 
 
 — Wondrous sore 
 
 Thereat displeased they were, till that young squire 
 Gan them inform the cause why that same door 
 Was shut to all which lodging did desire : 
 The which to let you weet will further time require. 
 
 Canto IX. (53 stanzas). — In this castle, it seems, 
 there dwells "a cankered crabbed carle," or sour ill- 
 conditioned old man, Malbecco, very wealthy, and with 
 his whole heart set upon gathering and keeping, but who 
 is nevertheless sorely put to it by his wife, a beautiful 
 lady much younger than himself, named Helenore, of 
 whom he both is and has good reason to be exceedingly 
 jealous, and whom accordingly he docs his best to seclude 
 in close bower, or chamber, from all men's sight. Our 
 two knights, however, are quite agreed that an attempt 
 must be made to get, some way or other, into tin- 
 churl's stronghold. "" But, although they get speech of 
 Malbecco, they can make no impression upon him either 
 by soft words or threats ; and after a while, a storm hav- 
 ing come on, they have nothing for it but to take refuge 
 in a little shed beside the gate, which has been erected 
 for the accommodation of swine. Soon after the tempest 
 drives to the same shelter another knight, who atfirst 
 demands admittance in so lordly a .strain that Paridel, 
 whose hot spirit cannot bear
 
 56 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Bock III. 
 
 To hear him threaten so despitefully, 
 
 As if he did a dog in kennel rate 
 
 That durst not bark ; — and rather had he die 
 
 Than, when he was defied, in coward corner lie, — 
 
 reluctant as he is to fight in the dark, betakes him to 
 his steed, and they have a tilt at one another ; the result, 
 however, of which is that both he and his horse are 
 thrown to the ground at the first shock, nor can the 
 Knight get upon his legs again till the Squire of Dames 
 has helped him up. He is, notwithstanding, eager to 
 renew the fight with his sword, but Satyrane now steps 
 forth, and by his persuasion they are induced to make 
 peace. The three now agree to join in an attack upon 
 the castle, which they begin by taking measures to set 
 fire to the inhospitable gates. On this Malbecco con- 
 sents to admit them, and they are brought into a comely 
 bower, or room, where they throw off their armour and 
 dry their wet clothes at the fire. 
 
 And eke that stranger knight amongst the rest 
 Was for like need enforced to disarray ; 
 Though, whenas veiled was her lofty crest, 
 Her golden locks, that were in trammels gay 
 Upbouuden, did themselves adown display 
 And raught n unto her heels ; like sunny beams, 
 That in a cloud their light did long time stay, 
 Their vapour vaded,° show their golden gleams, 
 And through the persaut air shoot forth their azure 
 streams. 
 
 Having also doffed her habergeon, and let fall " her well- 
 plight frock," which she was wont " to tuck about her 
 short when she did ride," she stands before them a wo- 
 man at all points — 
 
 The fairest woman-wight that ever eye did see. 
 
 It is no other, in fact, than Britomart herself, as the 
 effect of the touch of her spear, sure and instantaneous 
 as the lightning, may have prepared the reader to expect. 
 
 n Reached. „ Being dispersed.
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 57 
 
 " Every one," we are told, " her liked, and every one 
 her loved ;" — 
 
 And Paridel, though partly discontent 
 With his late fall and foul indignity, 
 Yet was soon won his malice to relent, 
 Through gracious regard of her fair eye. 
 And knightly worth which he too late did try, 
 Yet tried did adore. 
 
 Paridel, we may now mention, is understood fo lie the: 
 brave but unfortunate Charles Nevil, sixth and last of 
 the Nevils, Earls of Westmoreland, who, having joined 
 what is called the Earl of Northumberland's rebellion in 
 1569, for the restoration of popery and the liberation of 
 Mary Stuart, had on the failure of that attempt escaped 
 to the Continent, where he was still living in obscurity 
 and poverty when this first portion of the Fairy Queen 
 was published. He was notorious for his devotion to the 
 sex and his innumerable amours. 
 
 When they are about to sit down to supper, Malbecco, 
 on their request to have a sight of his lady, tries to put 
 them off with all sorts of excuses — 
 
 Her crazed health, her late recourse to rest, 
 And humid evening, ill for sick folk's case ; 
 
 but they compel him to produce her : — 
 
 She came in presence with right comely grace, 
 
 And fairly them saluted, as became, 
 
 And showed herself in all a gentle courteous dame. 
 
 & v 
 
 At table Satyrane is seated over against her, and Paridel 
 by her side ; and the latter and she soon come to a good 
 understanding, the luckless husband having his suspicious 
 i' e (he seems to have had but one) all the while chiefly 
 directed upon the other much less dangerous knight. It is 
 unnecessary to dwell upon the stratagems by which they 
 an' stated to have communicated their secret thoughts. 
 After supper Ilelenore proposes that each knight should 
 tell his kindred and his name. 
 
 <l.
 
 58 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 Then Paridel, in whom a kindly pride 
 
 Of gracious speech, and skill his words to frame, 
 
 Ahounded, being glad of so fit tide, 
 
 Him to commend to her, thus spake, of all well eyed : 
 
 " Troy, that art now nought but an idle name, 
 
 And in thine ashes buried low dost lie, 
 
 Though whilome far much greater than thy fame, 
 
 Before that angry gods and cruel sky 
 
 Upon thee heaped a direful destiny ; 
 
 What boots it boast thy glorious descent, 
 
 And fetch from heaven thy great gi'neal^gy, 
 
 Sith all thy worthy praises being blent 
 
 Their offspring hath embased, and later glory shent ! " 
 
 After this exordium he proceeds to deduce his own 
 descent from Paris, whose son Parius, by (Enone, car- 
 ried with him the remnant of the Trojans to the Isle of 
 Paros, previously called Nausa, and there reigned many 
 years, and left his kingdom to his son Paridas ; " from 
 whom," he concludes, — 
 
 " I Paridel by kin descend: 
 
 But, for fair lady's love and glorious gain, 
 My native soil have left, my days to spend 
 In sueingP deeds of arms, my live's q and labour's end." 
 
 This rueful story, " of Trojan wars and Priam's city 
 sacked," strongly excites the feelings of Britomart, her- 
 self of Trojan extraction ; 
 
 For noble Britons sprung from Trojans bold, 
 
 And Troynovant was built of old Troy's ashes cold. 
 
 " O lamentable fall of famous town!" she sighing ex- 
 claims ; and then she describes it as only an illustration 
 of the general fate of all things human — an ensample of 
 man's wretched state, 
 
 That flowers so fresh at morn, and fades at evening late. 
 
 At her request Paridel relates the fortunes of JEneas and 
 of the other remnant of the Trojans who followed that 
 chief to Latium, and there founded Alba Longa and 
 
 p Pursuing. «• Life's.
 
 Car.to IX.; THE FAIRY QUEEN. 59 
 
 Rome. But a third kingdom, says Britomart when he 
 has finished, is yet to arise out of the scattered offspring 
 of the Trojans, and a third town that in its glory shall 
 far surpass both the first and second Troy : 
 
 " It Troynovant is hight, that with the waves 
 Of wealthy Thames washed is along, 
 Upon whose stubborn neck (whereat he raves 
 With roaring rage, and sore himself does throng, 
 That all men fear to tempt his billows strong)^ 
 She fastened hath her foot; which stands so high, 
 That it a wonder of the world is song 
 In foreign lauds; and all which passen by, 
 Beholding it from far, do think it threats the sky." 
 
 That city, she adds, was founded by the Trojan Brute, 
 who " Highgate made the mean (or boundary) thereof 
 by west, and Overt-gate by north." Paridel prays the 
 lady to pardon his heedlessness in forgetting the story 
 which he had heard from aged Mnemon, who said, 
 
 " That of the antique Trojan stock there grew 
 Another plant, that raught to wondrous height, 
 And far abroad his mighty branches threw 
 Into the utmost angle of the world he knew." 
 
 The Brute, or Brutus, of whom Britomart had spoken, 
 he proceeds to say, was the son of Sylvius, son of Asca- 
 nius (or lulus), and, having by mischance killed his 
 father, left his native Italy with a band of youthful fol- 
 lowers, who after long wandering came at last to the 
 island of Britain, then inhabited by 
 
 an huge nation of the giants' brood. 
 
 That fed on living flesh, and drunk men's vital blood. 
 
 These Brutus subdued " through weary wars and labours 
 long "— 
 
 A famous history to he enrolled 
 
 In everlasting monuments of brass, 
 
 That all the antique worthies' merits far did pass ; — 
 and founded both great Troynovant (or London) and 
 fair Lincoln — than which no cities arc to be found fairer, 
 except only Cleopolis. " ISo ended Paridel :
 
 60 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 But all the while, that he these speeches spent, 
 
 Upon his lips hung fair Dame Helenore 
 
 With vigilant regard and due attent, 
 
 Fashioning worlds of fancies evermore 
 
 In her frail wit, that now her quite forlore : r 
 
 The whiles, unwares, away her wondering eye 
 
 And greedy ears her weak heart from her hore 
 
 Which he perceiving, ever privily, 
 
 In speaking, many false belgardes s at her let fly. 
 
 Much to Malbecco's relief, however, it is now time 
 to retire to rest. " So all unto their bowers were 
 brought." 
 
 Canto X, (GO stanzas). — The next morning Britomart 
 and Satyrane proceed on their journey ; but Paridel com- 
 plains that the hurts he had received in his last encounter 
 with Britomart will not yet let him ride, and remains in 
 his quarters, in spite of his sore grudging host. Mal- 
 becco thinks to prevent all mischief by carefully watch- 
 ing his slippery concern of a wife ; 
 
 Ne doth he suffer her, nor night nor day, 
 Out of his sight herself once to absent. 
 
 But Paridel kept better watch than he, 
 
 A fit occasion for his turn to find. 
 
 False Love ! why do men say thou canst not see, 
 
 And in their foolish fancy feign thee blind, 
 
 That with thy charms the sharpest sight dost bind, 
 
 And to thy will abuse ? Thou walkest free, 
 
 And seest every secret of the mind ; 
 
 Thou seest all, yet none at all sees thee : 
 
 All that is by the working of thy deity. 
 
 So perfect in that art was Paridel, 
 That he Malbecco's halfen eye did wile ; 
 His halfen eye he wiled wondrous well, 
 And Helenore's both eyes did eke beguile, 
 Both eyes and heart at once, during the while 
 That he there sojourned his wounds to heal ; 
 That Cupid self, it seeing, close did smile 
 
 Forsook. s Kind glances.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QTJEEN. Gl 
 
 To weet how he her love away did steal, 
 
 And bade that none their joyous treason should reveal. 
 
 " The learned lover," omits no opportunity, nor the 
 least advantage, in his double task of both deceiving the 
 husband and completing his conquest of the lady ; — 
 
 Now singing sweetly to surprise her sprites, 
 
 Now making lays of love and lover's pain, 
 
 Bransles, 1 ballads, virelays, and verses vain ; 
 
 Oft purposes, oft riddles, he devised, 
 
 And thousands like which flowed in his brain, 
 
 With which he fed her fancy, and enticed 
 
 To take to his new love, and leave her old despised. 
 
 And every where he might and every while 
 
 He did her service dutiful, and sued 
 
 At hand with humble pride and pleasing guile ; 
 
 So closely yet, that none but she it viewed, 
 
 Who well perceived all, and all indued. u 
 
 Thus finely did he his false nets dispread, 
 
 With which he many weak hearts had subdued 
 
 Of yore, and many had alike misled : 
 
 What wonder then if she were likewise carried ? 
 
 The end is, that " fair Dame Helenore," according to a 
 device proposed by herself, is openly carried off one 
 night by Paridel, after she has set fire to the closet in 
 which her husband keeps his treasure, in the confusion 
 and distraction into which the old miser is thrown be- 
 tween his desire to rescue his wife and his counter-desire 
 to save his money. 
 
 The wretched man hearing her call for aid, 
 And ready seeing him with her to fly, 
 In his disquiet mind was much dismayed : 
 But when again he backward cast his eye, 
 And saw the wicked fire so furiously 
 Consume his heart, and scorch his idol's face, 
 He was therewith distressed diversely, 
 Ne wist he how to turn, nor to what place : 
 Was never wretched man in such a woeful case. 
 
 * Brawls, the dance so called, or the tune, as here. 
 u Digested, a term of falconry.
 
 62 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book [If. 
 
 Aye, -when to him she cried, to her he turned 
 A nd left the fire ; love money overcame : 
 But, when he marked how his money burned, 
 He left his wife ; money did love disclaim : 
 Both was he loth to lose his loved dame, 
 And loth to leave his liefest T pelf behind ; 
 Yet, sith he no'te w save both, he saved that same 
 Which was the dearest to his dunghill mind, 
 The god of his desire, the joy of misers blind. 
 
 He is frantic with rage, however, when, after the fire 
 has been extinguished, he finds the lady to be fairly 
 gone and out of his reach ; and, when he somewhat re- 
 gains self-command, all his thoughts are set to work to 
 contrive how he may recover possession of her. At 
 last, taking part of his treasure with him (his wife had 
 helped herself with a liberal hand before she went ofF), 
 and burying the rest in the ground, he sets out dressed 
 like a poor pilgrim, and seeks her everywhere by sea and 
 land ; but all in vain. In course of time, however, he 
 falls in with Braggadoccio, attended, as usual, by Trom- 
 part ; and, after some parley, that mock knight agrees to 
 accompany him in his search, and the three travel together 
 for a long time " through many a wood, and many an un- 
 couth way." Meanwhile, Paridel and Helenore have 
 parted company after a very brief association ; he has 
 turned her off, and let her fly alone ; 
 
 He n'ould be clogged ; so had he served many one. 
 
 The gentle lady, loose at random left, 
 
 The green-wood long did walk, and wander wide 
 
 At wild adventure, like a forlorn weft ; 
 
 Till on a day the satyrs her espied 
 
 Straying alone withouten groom or guide : 
 
 Her up they took, and with them home her led, 
 
 With them as housewife ever to abide, 
 
 To milk their goats, and make them cheese and bread. 
 
 Among her new friends she soon forgets both Malbecco, 
 "and eke Sir Paridel, all were he dear." 
 
 Now it so chances that, as Paridel is riding about the 
 
 T Dearest, most loved. w May not.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 63 
 
 world in search of another adventure, he suddenly comes 
 upon his old acquaintance Malbecco, journeying:, as has 
 just been told, with Braggadoccio and Trompart. As 
 'soon as the old man sees who it is he almost drops down 
 dead with fear ; but, recovering his senses though not his 
 courage, he ventures with a lowly greeting to ask in a 
 whisper after Helenore. 
 
 " I take no keep of her," said Paridel, 
 " She wonneth in the forest there before." 
 
 And so he rides off. The three now agree to proceed to 
 the forest ; Malbecco, before they enter it, retiring by 
 himself and hiding his treasure for fear of being fallen 
 upon by some of the many "wild woodmen" who, 
 Trompart tells them, haunt the place, and are wont to 
 rob and rend travellers. 
 
 Now when amid the thickest woods they were, 
 
 They heard a noise of many bagpipes shrill, 
 
 And shrieking hubbubs them approaching near, 
 
 Which all the forest did with horror fill : 
 
 That dreadful sound the boaster's heart did thrill 
 
 With such amazement, that in haste he fled, 
 
 Ne ever looked back for good or ill ; 
 
 And after him eke fearful Trompart sped : 
 
 The old man could not fly, but fell to ground half dead ; 
 
 Ytet afterwards, close creeping as he might, 
 
 He in a bush did hide his fearful head. 
 
 The jolly satyrs full of fresh delight 
 
 Came dancing forth, and with them nimbly led 
 
 Fair Helenore with girlands all bespread, 
 
 Whom their May-lady they had newly made : 
 
 She, proud of that new honour which they read, 
 
 And of their lovely fellowship full glade, 
 
 Danced lively, and her face did with a laurel shade. 
 
 The silly man that in the thicket lay 
 
 Saw all this goodly sport, and grieved sore ; 
 
 Yet durst he not against it do or say, 
 
 But did his heart with bitter thoughts engore, 
 
 To see the unkindness of his Helenore. 
 
 All day they danced with great lustihead, 
 
 And with their horned feet the green grass wore ;
 
 84 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 The whiles their goats upon the browses fed, 
 Till drooping Phoebus gau to hide his golden head. 
 
 Tho up they gan their merry pipes to truss, 
 And all their goodly herds did gather round ; 
 But every satyr first did give a buss 
 To Helenore ; so busses did abound. 
 
 Poor Malbecco's power of endurance is after this still 
 more intolerably tormented ; nor, although he obtains an 
 opportunity of speaking to his wife, can he persuade her 
 to return with him : she 
 
 by no means would to his will be won, 
 
 But chose amongst the jolly satyrs still to won. 
 He has found it necessary, in order to conceal himself, to 
 assume the appearance of a goat — which, we are told, he 
 managed to do 
 
 through the help of his fair horns on height, 
 
 And misty damp of misconceiving night. 
 And eke through likeness of his goatish beard ; 
 
 but now when it is morning, and he has rejoined the rest 
 of the herd, they all fall upon him, butting him on every 
 side, and treading him down in the dirt. As soon as he 
 can make his escape he runs oft* as fast as his feet will 
 carry him ; and first he makes for the place where he had 
 buried his treasure ; but the crafty 1 rompart has been 
 there before him, and all is gone. On this, 
 
 With extreme fury he became quite mad, 
 
 And ran away ; ran with himself away : 
 
 That who so strangely had him seen bestad* 
 
 With upstart hair and staring eyes' dismay, 
 
 From Limbo lake him late escaped sure would say. 
 
 High over hills and over dales he fled, 
 As if the wind him on his wings had borne ; 
 Ne bank nor bush could stay him, when he sped 
 His nimble feet, as treading still on thorn : 
 Grief, and Despite, and Jealousy, and Scorn, 
 Did all the way him follow hard behind ; 
 And he himself himself loathed so forlorn, y 
 
 x Bested, distressed. * Forsaken.
 
 "fcnto X.] THE FAIRT QUEEN. OS 
 
 So shamefully forlorn of womankind : 
 
 That, as a snake, still lurked in his wounded mind. 
 
 He never stops till he comes to a rocky hill overhanging 
 the sea, over which he throws himself in desperation : 
 
 But, through long anguish and self murdering thought. 
 
 He was so wasted and forpined z quite, 
 
 That all his substance was consumed to nought, 
 
 And nothing left but like an airy sprite; 
 
 That on the rocks he fell so flit and light 
 
 That he thereby received no hurt at all, 
 
 But chanced on a craggy cliff to light; 
 
 Whence he with crooked claws so long did crawl, 
 
 That at the last he found a cave with entrance small. 
 
 Into the same he creeps, and thenceforth there 
 
 Resolved to build his baleful mansion 
 
 In dreary darkness and continual fear 
 
 Of that rock's fall, which ever and anon 
 
 Threats with huge ruin him to fall upon, 
 
 That he dare never sleep, but that one eye 
 
 Still ope he keeps for that occasion ; 
 
 Ne ever rests he in tranquillity, 
 
 The roaring billows beat his bower so boisterously. 
 
 Ne ever is he wont on aught to feed 
 
 But toads and frogs, his pasture poisonous, 
 
 Which in his cold complexion do breed 
 
 A filthy blood, or humour rancorous, 
 
 Matter of doubt and dread suspicious, 
 
 That doth with cureless care consume the heart, 
 
 Corrupts the stomach with gall vicious, 
 
 Cross-cuts the liver with internal smart, 
 
 And doth transfix the soul with death's eternal t'.arf. 
 
 Yet can he never die, but dying lives, 
 And doth himself with sorrow new sustain, 
 That death and life at once unto him gives, 
 And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain. 
 There dwells he ever, miserable swain, 
 Hateful both to himself and every wight; 
 Where he, through privy grief and horror vain, 
 
 t Pined away. 
 
 "?OL. II. *'
 
 66 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 Is woxen so deformed, that he has quite 
 Forgot he was a man, and Jealousy is hight. 
 
 Canto XI. (55 stanzas).— The poet now winds his 
 way back to Sir Satyrane and Britomart, who, as will 
 be remembered, had left the castle of Malbecco together, 
 through a brief but passionate anathema of Jealousy, con- 
 cluding —   
 
 And ye, fair ladies, that your kingdoms make 
 In the hearts of men, them govern wisely well, 
 And of fair Britomart ensample take, 
 That was as true in love as turtle to her make. 
 
 As the two ride along they see at a distance a young 
 man flying from a huge giant, who proves to be Oliphant, 
 the brother of the vile Argante, and as great a monster 
 of the one sex as she is of the other. Britomart imme- 
 diately dashes forward to attack him, and is quickly fol- 
 lowed by Satyrane, on which, abandoning the chase of 
 the youth, he takes to flight, and, being " long and swift 
 as any roe," outruns them both. 
 
 It was not Satyrane, whom he did fear, 
 1 But Britomart, the flower of chastity ; 
 
 For he the power of chaste hands might not bear, 
 But always did their dread encounter fly. 
 
 At last he takes refuge in a forest where the Knight and 
 the lady part company in seeking for him. Proceeding 
 along by herself, Britomart after some time comes to a 
 fountain, beside which lies on the grass a knigh t, 
 
 and by him near 
 
 His habergeon, his helmet, and his spear : 
 
 A little off, his shield was rudely thrown, 
 
 On which the winged hoy in colours clear 
 
 Depainted was, full easy to be known, 
 
 And he thereby, wherever it in field was shown. 
 
 lie lies with his face grovelling upon the ground, and, 
 after many sobs and groans, is heard to break forth into 
 a torrent of fervid words, in which he calls impatiently 
 upon the justice of heaven, exclaiming,
 
 Canfo XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 67 
 
 " If good find grace, and righteousness reward, 
 Why then is Anioret in caitiff band, 
 Sith that more'lVouhteous creature never fared 
 On foot upon the face of living land ! 
 Or, if that heavenly justice may withstand 
 The wrongful outrage of unrighteous men, 
 Why then is Busirane with wicked hand 
 Suffered, these seven months' day, in secret den 
 My lady and my love so cruelly to pen !" 
 
 This, in fact, is Sir Scudaniore, of whom we have heard 
 as the lover and the beloved of Amoret at the close of 
 the Sixth Canto. She is kept, it appears, in durance 
 and torment by Busirane, "all for she Scudaniore will 
 not denay." Britomart accosts him, and, after his grief 
 has been somewhat composed by her words of sympathy, 
 he explains further that the tyrant in whose hands Amoret 
 is is a great enchanter, and that he keeps her guarded in 
 her dungeon by many dreadful fiends. Desperate as the 
 case looks, Britomart does not hesitate to devote herself 
 to the enterprise of the lady's rescue : — 
 
 " I will, with proof of last extremity, 
 
 Deliver her fro thence, or with her for you die." 
 
 " Ah ! gentlest knight alive," said Scudamore, 
 
 " What huge heroic magnanimity 
 
 Dwells in thy bounteous breast? whatcouldst thou more, 
 
 If she were thine, and thou as now am I ? 
 
 O spare thy happy days, and them apply 
 
 To better boot ; but let me die that ought : 
 
 More is more loss ; one is enough to die !" 
 
 " Life is not lost," said she, " for which is bought 
 
 Endless renown ; that, more than death, is to be sought." 
 
 The castle of Busirane is within a bow-shot of where 
 they are. Riding up to it they dismount from their 
 horses, when they find neither a warder nor even a gate 
 to bar their entry, but within the porch a blazing fire 
 mixed with smoke and suljJiur, which so overpowers 
 their senses with horror that they are forced instantly to 
 retire. Even Britomart is dismayed by this reception, 
 and, turning back to Scudaniore, exclaims, 
 
 „>
 
 68 SPENSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book III. 
 
 " What monstrous enmity provoke we here ? 
 Foolhardy as the earth's children, the which made 
 Battle against the gods, so we a god invade." 
 
 In reply to her, Scudamore can only repeat his old cry 
 of despair ; the lire, he assures her, can neither be re- 
 moved nor extinguished ; wherefore, says he, 
 
 " What is there else but cease these fruitless pains, 
 And leave me to my former languishing ! 
 Fair Amoret must dwell in wicked chains, 
 And Scudamore here die with sorrowing !" 
 
 Britomart, however, will not so abandon the heroic ad- 
 venture ; throwing her shield before her face, and point- 
 ing her sword forward, she boldly marches up to and 
 assails the flame, 
 
 the which eftsoons gave place, 
 
 And did itself divide with equal spare, 
 That through she passed ; as a thunder-bolt 
 Pierceth the yielding air, and doth displace 
 The soaring clouds into sad showers yruolt/' 
 
 When Scudamore, however, attempts to follow her, he 
 finds that he cannot pass, and is driven back all scorched 
 and miserably burnt ; so that the brave chanipioness re- 
 mains within the castle alone. She has now entered 
 
 The utmost room, and passed the foremost door ; 
 The utmost room abounding with all precious store • 
 
 For, round about the walls yclothed were 
 With goodly arras of great majesty, 
 Woven with gold and silk so close and near 
 That the rich metal lurked privily, 
 As feigning to be hid from envious eye ; 
 Yet here, and there, and every where, unwares, 
 It showed itself and shone unwillingly; 
 Like to a discoloured snake, whose hidden snares 
 Through the green grass his long bright burnished back 
 declares. 
 
 Great numbers of fair pictures still further adorn the 
 tapestry, "all of love and all of lustih ead ;" 
 
 a Molten, melted
 
 Canto XL] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 69 
 
 And eke all Cupid's wars they did repeat, 
 And cruel battles, which he whilome fought 
 Gainst all the gods to make his empire great; 
 Besides the huge massacres, which he wrought 
 On mighty kings and kesars into thraldom brought. 
 
 There are all the love adventures of thundering Jove, 
 with Helle, with Europa, with Danae : 
 
 Then was he turned into a snowy swan, 
 
 To win fair Leda to his lovely trade : 
 
 O wondrous skill, and sweet wit of the man, 
 
 That her in daffodillies sleeping made 
 
 From scorching heat her dainty limbs to shade! 
 
 Whiles the proud bird, ruffing his feathers wide 
 
 And brushing his fair breast, did her invade, 
 
 She slept; yet twixt her eyelids closely spied 
 
 How towards her he rushed, and smiled at his pride. 
 
 Then he was shown with Semele and with Alcmena. 
 And after that 
 
 Twice was he seen in soaring eagle's shape, 
 And with wide wings to beat the buxom air : 
 Once, when he with Asterie did scape 
 Again, whenas the Trojan boy so fair 
 He snatched from Ida hill, and with him bare : 
 Wondrous delight it was there to behold 
 How the rude shepherds after him did stare, 
 Trembling through fear lest down he fallen should 
 And often to him calling to take surer hold. 
 
 In satyr's shape Antiopa he snatched ; 
 And like a fire, when he iEgin' assayed: 
 A shepherd, when Mnemosyne he catched ; 
 And like a serpent to the Thracian maid. 
 Whiles thus on earth great Jove these pageants played, 
 The winged boy did thrust into his throne, 
 And, scoffing, thus unto his mother said ; 
 " Lo ! now the heavens obey to me alone, 
 And take me for their Jove, whiles Jove to earth is 
 gone." 
 
 Nor were the loves of the other gods forgotten : 
 
 And thou, fair Phoebus, in thy colours bright 
 Wast there enwoven,
 
 70 SFENSER AND HIS POETRT. [Book III. 
 
 with the stories of Daphne, of Hyacinthus, of Coronis, 
 of Clymene, and her son Phaethon — 
 
 Who, bold to guide the chariot of the sun, 
 Himself in thousand pieces fondly rent, 
 And all the world with flashing tier brent ; 
 So like, that all the walls did seem to flame — 
 
 of Isse, the daughter of Admetus, and many more. 
 
 Next unto him was Neptune pictured, 
 
 In his divine resemblance wondrous like: 
 
 His face was rugged, and his hoary head 
 
 Dropped with brackish dew : his three-forked pike 
 
 He sternly shook, and therewith fierce did strike 
 
 The raging billows, that on every side 
 
 They trembling stood, and made a long broad dyke, 
 
 That, his swift chariot might have passage wide, 
 
 Which four great hippodames did draw in team-wise tied. 
 
 His sea-horses did seem to snort amain, 
 
 And from their nosthrils blow the briny stream, 
 
 That made the sparkling waves to smoke again 
 
 And flame with gold ; but the white foamy cream 
 
 Did shine with silver, and shoot forth his beam : 
 
 The god himself did pensive seem and sad, 
 
 And hung adown his head as he did dream ; 
 
 For privy love his breast impierced had, 
 
 Ne ought but dear Bisaltis aye could make him glad. 
 
 He loved eke Iphimedia dear, 
 
 And iEolus' fair daughter, Arne hight, 
 
 For whom he turned himself into a steer, 
 
 And fed on fodder to beguile her sight. 
 
 Also, to win Deucalion's daughter bright, 
 
 He turned himself into a dolphin fair ; 
 
 And, like a winged horse, he took his flight 
 
 To snaky-lock Medusa to repair, 
 
 On whom he got fair Pegasus that flitteth in the air. 
 
 Who would ween that sullen Saturn ever thought of 
 love ? Yet love is sometimes sullen and Saturnlike, as 
 this God himself proved when he transformed himself 
 into a centaur for Erigone :
 
 Canto XL] THE FA IF. Y QUEEN. 71 
 
 So proved it eke that gracious god of wine, 
 When, for to compass Philyra's hard love, 
 He turned himself into a fruitful vine, 
 And into her fair bosom made his grapes decline. 
 
 [The fact, however, is that it was Bacchus who loved 
 Erigone, and Saturn Philyra ; nor did the latter turn 
 himself into a centaur, but into a horse.] It were long 
 to tell the amours of Mars with Venus, and with many 
 other nymphs ; or how the little God of Love did not 
 spare his own dear mother, nor sometimes even himself, 
 
 That he might taste the sweet consumiug woe, 
 Which he had wrought to many others moe. 
 • • • • • 
 
 Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels gent, 
 
 Were heaped together with the vulgar sort, 
 
 And mingled with the rascal rabblement, 
 
 Without respect of person o; - of port. 
 
 To -show Dan Cupid's power and great effort : 
 
 And round about a border was entrailed 
 
 Of broken bows and arrows shivered short ; 
 
 And a long bloody river through them railed, 
 
 So lively, and so like, that living sense it failed. b 
 
 So much for the paintings on the tapestry. Then, 
 
 at the upper end of that fair room 
 
 There was an altar built of precious stone 
 Of passing value ancTof r great renowm, 
 On which there stood an image all alone 
 Of massy gold, which with his own light shone ; 
 And wings it had with sundry colours dight, 
 More sundry colours than the proud pavone ' 
 Bears in his boasted fan, or Iris bright 
 When her discoloured bow she spreads through heaven 
 bright.* 
 
 Blindfold he was ; and in his cruel fist 
 A mortal bow and arrows keen did hold, 
 With which he shot at random when him list, 
 Some headed with sad lead, some with pure gold ; 
 
 b Deceived. c Peacock. 
 
 It probably should be " heaven's height."
 
 11 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III. 
 
 (Ah ! man, beware how thou those darts behold !) 
 A wounded dragon under him did lie, 
 Whose hideous tail bis left foot did enfold, 
 And with a shaft was shot through either eye, 
 That no man forth might draw, ne no man remedy. 
 
 And underneath his feet was written thus, 
 " Unto the Victor of the gods this be :" 
 And all the people in that ample house 
 Did to that image bow their humble knee. 
 
 Transfixed with astonishment, Britomart gazes long upon 
 the splendid scene around her; then, looking back, she 
 perceives written over the door the words Be Bold; she 
 cannot make out what the inscription may mean ; but, 
 " no whit thereby discouraged," she advances boldly into 
 the next room. 
 
 Much fairer than the former was that room, 
 
 And richlier, by many parts, arrayed ; 
 
 For not with arras made in painful loom, 
 
 But with pure gold it all was overlaid. 
 
 Wrought with wild anticks d which their follies played 
 
 In the rich metal, as they living were : 
 
 A thousand monstrous forms therein 'were made, 
 
 Such as false Love doth oft upon him wear ; 
 
 For love in thousand monstrous forms doth oft appear. 
 
 And, all about, the glistring walls were hong 
 
 With warlike spoils and with victorious preys 
 
 Of mighty conquerors and captains strong, 
 
 Which were whilome captived in their days 
 
 To cruel love, and wrought their own decays : 
 
 Their swords and spears were broke, and hauberques rent, 
 
 And their proud girlands of triumphant bays 
 
 Trodden in dust with fury insolent, 
 
 To show the victor's might and merciless intent. 
 
 Britomart marvels greatly that all this while no living 
 thing has appeared — that there should be nothing but 
 emptiness and solemn silence over all the place. Then, 
 as she looks around, she sees again the words Be bold, 
 Be bold, written over every door ; till at last, at the 
 
 d Images. 
 
 \
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 73 
 
 upper end of the room in which she is, she discovers one 
 iron door on which is written Be not too bold. This 
 perplexes her still more ; but chance of penetrating the 
 mystery for the present there seems none ; night, too, 
 now begins to wrap everything in darkness ; so all she 
 can do is to remain where she is, without either laying 
 aside her armeur or resigning herself to sleep. 
 
 Canto XII. (45 stanzas). — At last, when it is quite 
 darfc , k trumpet sounds, and then, after a storm of thunder 
 and lightning and earthquake, and a stench of smoke 
 and sulphur, lasting " from the fourth hour of the night 
 until the sixth," — 
 
 All suddenly a stormy whirlwind blew 
 Throughout the house, that clapped every door, 
 With which that iron wicket open flew, 
 As it with mighty levers had been tore ; 
 And forth issued, as on the ready floor 
 Of some theatre, a grave personage 
 That in his hand a branch of laurel bore, 
 With comely haviour and countenance sage, 
 Yclad in costly garments fit for tragic stage. 
 
 Proceeding to the midst he still did stand, 
 As if in mind he somewhat had to say ; 
 And to the vulgar beckoning with his hand, 
 In sign of silence, as to hear a play, 
 By lively actions he gan bewray 
 Some argument of matter passioned; 
 Which done, he back retired soft away, 
 And passing by, his name discovered, 
 Ease, on his robe in golden letters cyphered. 
 
 The noble maid still standing all this viewed, 
 And marvelled at his strange intendiment : 
 With that a joyous fellowship issued 
 Of minstrels making goodly merriment, 
 With wanton bards, and rhymers impudent ; 
 All which together sung most cheerfully 
 A lay of love's delight with sweet concent : e 
 After whom marched a jolly company. 
 In manner of a ma^k, enranged orderly. 
 
 e Harmony.
 
 74 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IK 
 
 The whiles a most delicious harmony 
 
 In full strange notes was sweetly heard to sound, 
 
 That the rare sweetness of the melody 
 
 The feeble senses wholly did confound, 
 
 And the frail soul in deep delight nigh drowned : 
 
 And, when it ceased, shrill trumpets loud did bray, 
 
 That their report did far away rebound ; 
 
 And, when they ceased, it gan again to play, 
 
 The whiles the maskers marched forth in trim array. 
 
 The first was Fancy, like a lovely boy 
 
 Of rare aspect and beauty without peer, 
 
 Matchable either to that imp of Troy, 
 
 Whom Jove did love and chose his cup to bear ; 
 
 Or that same dainty lad, which was so dear 
 
 To great Alcides, that, whenas he died, 
 
 He wailed womanlike with many a tear, 
 
 And every wood and every valley wide 
 
 He filled with Hylas' name ; the nymphs eke Hylas cried 
 
 His garment neither was of silk nor say 
 
 But painted plumes in goodly order dight, 
 
 Like as the sunburnt Indians do array 
 
 Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight : 
 
 As those same plumes, so seemed he vain and light, 
 
 That by his gait might easily appear ; 
 
 For still he fared as dancing in delight, 
 
 And in his hand a windy fan did bear, 
 
 That in the idle air he moved still here and there. 
 
 And him beside marched amorous Desire, 
 
 Who seemed of riper years than the other swain, 
 
 Yet was that other swain this elder's sire, 
 
 And gave him being, common to them twain : 
 
 His garment was disguised very vain, 
 
 And his embroidered bonnet sat awry : 
 
 Twixt both his hands few sparks he close did strain, 
 
 Which still he blew and kindled busily, 
 
 That soon they life conceived, and forth in flames did fly, 
 
 Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad 
 In a discolom - ed coat of strange disguise, 
 That at lire back a broad capuccio < had, 
 And sleeves dependent Albanese-wise ; 
 
 Houd.
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 7fl 
 
 He looked askew with his mistrustful eyes ; 
 And nicely trod, as thorns lay in his way, 
 Or that the floor to shrink he did avise ; 
 And on a broken reed he still did stay 
 His feeble steps, which shrunk when hard thereon he 
 lay. 
 
 With him went Danger, clothed in ragged weed 
 Made of bear's skTh,'~that him more dreadful made ; 
 Yet his own face was dreadful, ne did need 
 Strange horror to deform his grisly shade : 
 A net in the one had, and a rusty blade 
 In the other was ; this Mischief, that Mishap ; 
 With the one his foes he threatened to invade, 
 With the other he his friends meant to enwrap : 
 For whom he could not kill he practised to entrap. 
 
 Next him was Fear , all armed from top to toe, 
 Yet thought himself not safe enough thereby, 
 But feared each shadow moving to or fro ; 
 And, his own arms when glittering he did spy 
 Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly, 
 As ashes pale of hue, and winged heeled ; 
 And evermore on Danger fixed his eye, 
 Gainst whom he always bent a brazen shield, 
 Which his right hand unarmed fearfully did wield. 
 
 With him went Hope in rank, a handsome maid, 
 Of cheerful look and lovely to behold ; 
 In silken samite? she was light arrayed, 
 And her fair locks were woven up in gold : 
 She always smiled, and in her hand did hold 
 An holy-water-sprinkle, dipped in dew, 
 With which she sprinkled favours manifold 
 On whom she list, and did great liking shew, 
 Great liking unto many, but true love to few. 
 
 And after them Dissemblance and Suspect 
 
 Marched in one rank, yet an unequal pair ; 
 
 For she was gentle and of mild aspect, 
 
 Courteous to all and seeming debonaire, 
 
 Goodly adorned and exceeding fair ; 
 
 Yet was that all but painted and purloined, 
 
 And her bright brows were decked with borrowed hair; 
 
 6 A stuff partly of silk.
 
 76 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book III, 
 
 Her deeds were forged, and her words false coined, 
 And always in her hand two clues of silk she twined : 
 
 But he was foul, ill-favoured, and grim, 
 
 Under his eyebrows looking still askance ; 
 
 And ever, as Dissemblance laughed on him, 
 
 He lowered on her with dangerous eye-glance, 
 
 Shewing his nature in his countenance ; 
 
 His rolling eyes did never rest in place, 
 
 But walked each where for fear of hid mischance, 
 
 Holding a lattice still before his face, 
 
 Through which he still did peep as forward he did pace. 
 
 Next him went Grief and Fury matched yfere ; h 
 
 Grief all in sable sorrowfully clad, 
 
 Down hanging his dull head with heavy cheer, 
 
 Yet inly being more than seeming sad: 
 
 A pair of pincers in his hand he had, 
 
 With which he pinched people to the heart, 
 
 That from thenceforth a wretched life they lad, 
 
 In wilful languor and consuming smart, 
 
 Dying each day with inward wounds of dolour's dart. 
 
 But Fury was full ill apparelled 
 In rags, that naked nigh she did appear, 
 With ghastly looks and dreadful drearihead ; 
 And from her back her garments she did tear, 
 And from her head oft rent her snarled ' hair: 
 In her right hand a firebrand she did toss 
 About her head, still roaming here and there ; 
 As a dismayed deer in chase embost, J 
 Forgetful of his safety, hath his right way lost. 
 
 After them went Displeasure and Pleasance, 
 
 He looking lumpish and full sullen sad, 
 
 And hanging down his heavy countenance ; 
 
 She cheerful, fresh, and full of joyance glad, 
 
 As if no sorrow she ne felt ne drad ; k 
 
 That evil matched pair they seemed to be : 
 
 An angry wasp the one in a vial had, 
 
 The other in her's an honey lady-bee. 
 
 Thus marched these six couples forth in fair degree. 
 
 After all these there marched a most fair dame, 
 
 Led of two grisly villains, the one Despite, 
 
 h Together. ' Entangled. i Wearied out. k Dreaded.
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 77 
 
 Tl^^otli£juclep£di.iiudi5Jbx_riame : 
 
 She doleful lady, like a dreary sprite 
 
 Called by strong charms out of eternal night, 
 
 Had Death's own image figured in her face. 
 
 Full of sad signs, fearful to living sight ; 
 
 Yet in that horror showed a seemly grace, 
 
 And with her feeble feet did move a comely pace. 
 
 Her breast all naked, as net m ivory, 
 
 Without adorn of gold or silver bright, 
 
 Wherewith the craftsman wonts it beautify, 
 
 Of her due honour was dispoiled quite ; 
 
 And a wide wound therein (O rueful sight!) 
 
 Entrenched deep with knife accursed keen, 
 
 Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting sprite, 
 
 (The work of cruel hand) was to be seen, 
 
 That dyed in sanguine red her skin all snowy clean : 
 
 At that wide orifice her trembling heart 
 Was drawn forth, and in silver basin laid, 
 Quite through transfixed with a deadly dart, 
 And in her Mood yet steaming fresh embayed. 
 And those two villains (which her steps upstayed, 
 When her weak feet could scarcely her sustain, 
 And fading vital powers gan to fade), 
 Her forward still with torture did constrain. 
 And evermore increased her consuming pain. 
 
 Next after her, the Winged God himself 
 Came riding on a lion ravenous, 
 Taught to obey the menage of that elf 
 That man and beast with power imperious 
 Subdueth to his kingdom tyrannous : 
 His blindfold eyes he bade awhile unbind, 
 That his proud spoil of that same dolorous 
 Fair dame he might behold in perfect kind ; 
 Which seen, he much rejoiced in his cruel mind. 
 
 Of which full proud, himself uprearing high, 
 
 He looked round about with stern disdain, 
 
 And did survey his goodly company ; 
 
 And, marshalling the evil-ordered train, 
 
 With that the darts which his right hand did strain 
 
 i Called. m Pure. " Bathed.
 
 78 SPENSER AND HIS FOKTUT. [Book III. 
 
 Full dreadfully he shook, that all did quake, 
 And chipped on high his coloured winges twain, 
 That all his many" it afraid did make : 
 Tho, blinding him again, his way he forth did take. 
 
 Behind him was Reproach, Repentance, Shame : 
 Reproach the first. Shame next, Repent behind : 
 Repentance feeble, sorrowful, and lame ; 
 Reproach despiteful, careless, and unkind ; 
 Shame most ill-favoured, bestial, and blind : 
 Shame lowered, Repentance sighed, Reproach did scold ; 
 Reproach sharp stings, Repentance whips entwined, 
 Shame burning brand-irons in her hand did hold : 
 All three to each unlike, yet all made in one mould. 
 
 And after them a rude confused rout 
 
 Of persons tloeked, whose names is hard to read : 
 
 Amongst them was stern Strife ; and Anger stout ; 
 
 Unquiet Care ; and fond Unthriftihead ; 
 
 Lewd Loss of Time ; and Sorrow seeming dead ; 
 
 Inconstand Change ; and False Disloyalty ; 
 
 Consuming Riotise ; and guilty Dread 
 
 Of heavenly vengeance ; faint Infirmity : 
 
 Vile Poverty : and, lastly, Death with infamy. 
 
 There were full many moe like maladies, 
 
 "Whose names and natures I note readen well ; 
 
 So many moe, as there be phantasies 
 
 In wavering women's wit, that none can tell, 
 
 Or pains in love, or punishments in hell : 
 
 AH which disguised marched in masking-wise 
 
 About the chamber by the damosel : 
 
 And then returned, having marched thrice, 
 
 Into the inner room from whence they first did rise. 
 
 In tho argument at the head of the Canto this splendid 
 show, so wonderful for the profusion of allegoric inven- 
 tion displayed in it, is called the Masque of Cupid ; and, 
 as already noticed, it has been supposed to be perhaps 
 an adaptation of* the author's early composition, The 
 Court of Cupid, mentioned by E. K. in his Epistle to 
 Harvey prefixed to the Shepherd's Calendar.* 
 
 As soon as they have retired, the door is again fast 
 
 ° Meiny, or retinue. * See Vol. I., p. 27.
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 79 
 
 locked, driven to by a blast of wind even as it had been 
 driven open. Britomart courageously advances to it, but 
 tries in vain to open it, first by force then by art. She 
 resolves to remain in the room where she is till the fol- 
 lowing morning, when she concludes the mask will pro- 
 bably again come forth. Accordingly, alter another 
 night, towards the close of the second watch, open flies 
 the brazen door as before, and in walks bold Britomart :— 
 
 So soon as she was entered, round about 
 She cast her eyes to see what was become 
 Of all those persons which she saw without. 
 But lo ! they straight were vanished all and some ; 
 Ne living wight she saw in all that room, 
 Save that same woeful lady ; hoth whose hands 
 Were bouuden fast, that did her ill become, 
 And her small waist girt round with iron bands 
 Unto a brazen pillar, by the which she stands. 
 
 The lady is Amore t ; and before her sits the vile en- 
 chanter Busirane himself, writing strange magic cha- 
 racters with the living blood dropping from her dying 
 breast, in which the dart still seems planted — " and all 
 perforce to make her him to love." As soon as he sees 
 Britomart, starting up, and overthrowing in his haste his 
 wicked books, he draws a knife from his pocket, and 
 runs fiercely up to Amoret to plunge it into her ; but 
 Britomart, " to him leaping light," prevents the blow 
 and overpowers him. Turning, however, upon her, he 
 wounds her slightly in the breast; on which, " exceed- 
 ing wroth," the virgin draws her sword "to give him 
 the reward for such vile outrage due • — " 
 
 So mightily she smote him, that to ground 
 
 He fell half dead ; next stroke him should have slain, 
 
 Had not the lady, which by him stood bound, 
 
 DernlyP unto her called to abstain 
 
 From doing him to die ; for else her pain 
 
 Should be remediless ; sith none but he 
 
 Which wrought it could the same recure again. 
 
 Earnestly.
 
 fcU SPENSER AND HIS rOETRY. [Book IIL 
 
 Therewith she stayed her hand, loth stayed to be ; 
 For life she him envied, and longed revenge to see : 
 
 And to him said, " Thou -wicked man, whose meed 
 
 For so huge mischief and vile villainy 
 
 Is death, or if that ought do death exceed ; 
 
 Be sure that nought may save thee from to die 
 
 But if that thou this dame do presently 
 
 Restore unto her health and former state : 
 
 This do, and live ; else die undoubtedly." 
 
 He, glad of life, that looked for death but late, 
 
 Did yield himself right willing to prolong his date : 
 
 And rising up gan straight to overlook 
 Those cursed leaves, his charms back to reverse: 
 Full dreadful things out of that baleful book 
 He read, and measured many a sad verse, 
 That horror gan the virgin's heart to pierce, 
 And her fair locks up stared stiff on end, 
 Hearing him those same bloody lines rehearse ; 
 And, all the while he read, she did extend 
 Her sword high over him, if ought he did offend. 
 
 Anon she gan perceive the house to quake, 
 And all the doors to rattle round about ; 
 Yet all that did not her dismayed make, 
 Nor slack her threatful hand for dangers' doubt, 
 But still with steadfast eye and courage stout 
 Abode, to weet what end would come of all : 
 At last that mighty chain, which round about 
 Her tender waist was wound, adown gan fall, 
 And that great brazen pillar broke in pieces small. 
 
 The cruel steel, which thrilled her dying heart, 
 
 Fell softly forth, as of his own accord ; 
 
 And the wide wound, which lately did dispart 
 
 Her bleeding breast and riven bowels gored, 
 
 Was closed up as it had not been sored ; 
 
 And every part to safety full sound, 
 
 As she were never hurt, was soon restored : 
 
 Tho when she felt herself to be unbound 
 
 And perfect whole, prostrate she fell unto the ground ; 
 
 Before fair Britomart she fell prostrate, 
 Saying, " Ah ! noble knight, what worthy meed
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 81 
 
 Can wretched lady, quit from woeful state, 
 
 Yield you iu lieu of this your gracious deed ? 
 
 Your virtue self her own reward shall hreed, 
 
 Even immortal praise and glory wide, 
 
 Which I your vassal, by your prowess freed, 
 
 Shall through the world make to be notified, 
 
 And goodly well advance that goodly well was tried." 
 
 Britomart, raising her from the ground, tells her to 
 put away all sorrow — all "remembrance of late teen," — 
 
 adding, 
 
 " Instead thereof, know that your loving make 
 Hath no less grief endured for your gentle sake." 
 
 The championess then, laying her strong hand upon the 
 enchanter, binds him with the same chain with which 
 Amoret had been lately bound, and leads him away cap- 
 tive. Returning now by the way she had come, she 
 finds all those goodly rooms, " which erst she saw so 
 rich and royally arrayed," utterly vanished ; and, when 
 she descends to " that perilous porch," the dreadful fire 
 likewise quenched and gone. But when she comes to 
 where she had left Scudamore and her old squire, neither 
 of them is to be seen. After having waited long for 
 Britomart's re-appearance, they had concluded that she 
 must have perished, and had set out to seek for further 
 aid — " where," says the poet, bringing to a close the 
 Canto and the Book — 
 
 — let them wend at will, whilst here I do respire. 
 
 As the poem, however, was originally written and 
 published, in the place of the three last stanzas, which 
 relate the coining forth of Britoinart and Amoret, and 
 state what had induced Scudamore and Glauce to take 
 their departure, were other seven stanzas giving a dirier- 
 ent turn to the story. Scudamore was found where he 
 had been left ; the delighted lovers threw themselves into 
 one another's arms — 
 
 No vrord they spake, nor earthly thing they felt, 
 
 But like two senseless stocks in long embracements 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 dwelt; —
 
 82 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Kook III 
 
 and this first portion of the work, all probably that was 
 then composed, was finished off in the following lines; — 
 
 Thus do those lovers with sweet countervail,^ 
 Each other of love's bitter fruit despoil. 
 But now my team begins to faint and fail, 
 All woxen weary of their journal ' toil; 
 Therefore I will their sweaty yokes assoil 
 At this same furrow's end till a new day : 
 And ye, fair swains, after your long turmoil, 
 Now cease your work, and at your pleasure play; 
 Now cease your work ; to-morrow is an holiday. 
 
 In the alteration which he made when he reprinted the 
 poem with its continuation, Spenser judiciously availed 
 himself of the opportunity of keeping up the excitement 
 of suspense with regard to Scudamore and Amoret, as 
 well as with regard to Britomart and Arthegal, Flori- 
 mel, and other personages that figure in this third Book. 
 The second portion of the Fairy Queen, consisting of 
 Books Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth, was published (along 
 with a reprint of the three former Books) in 1596. 
 
 i Mutual requital. r Diurnal.
 
 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 83 
 
 Book Fourth. 
 
 The Fourth Book of the Fairy Queen is entitled 
 The Legend of Cambel and Triamond (misprinted in 
 the old editions lelamond), or of Friendship. It is pre- 
 ceded by five introductory stanzas, setting out as follows, 
 with what is no doubt an allusion to Burleigh and the 
 little favour, or rather avowed contempt, with which the 
 former portion of the work had been regarded, both for 
 its form and its subject, by the wise but not poetical 
 Lord Treasurer : — 
 
 The rugged forehead, that with grave foresight 
 
 Welds 5 kingdoms' causes, and affairs of state, 
 
 My looser rhymes, I wote, doth sharply wite,' 
 
 For praising love as I have done of late, 
 
 And magnifying lovers' dear debate, 
 
 By which frail youth is oft to folly led 
 
 Through false allurement of that pleasing bait, 
 
 That better were in virtues discipled,™ 
 
 Than with vain poems' weeds to have their fancies fed. 
 
 Such ones ill judge of love that cannot love, 
 
 Ne in their frozen hearts feel kindly flame ; 
 
 Forthy T they ought not thing unknown reprove, 
 
 Ne natural affection faultless blame 
 
 For faults of few that have abused the same ; 
 
 For it of honour and all virtue is 
 
 The root, and brings forth glorious flowers of fame, 
 
 That crown true lovers with immortal bliss. 
 
 The meed of them that love, and do not live amiss. 
 
 All great works, he proceeds to affirm, of former 
 
 8 Wields. « Blame. 
 
 u Disciplined. 
 
 » Therefore, on that account.
 
 84 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 aires will be found to have either begun or ended in 
 love ; and even the father of philosophy, Socrates, was 
 wont often to make this passion the subject of discourse 
 with " his Critias" (that name being apparently used liy 
 mistake for Crito, from a forgetfulness similar to what we 
 had occasion to notice in regard to the same name in the 
 seventh Canto of the second Book). To such therefore 
 as so wrongfully deem of love he does not sing at all, 
 but " to that sacred saint" his sovereign que«n, in whose 
 chaste breast all treasures of true love are enlocked, 
 
 Bove all her sex that ever yet was seen. 
 
 " To her," he exclaims, 
 
 I sing of love, that loveth best, 
 
 And best is loved of all alive, I ween ; 
 To her this song most fitly is addressed, 
 The Queen of Love and Prince of Peace from heaven 
 blest. 
 
 Canto I. (54 stanzas). — This Canto carries on the 
 adventures of Amoret, the story of whose previous suf- 
 ferings, and of the trials she has still to encounter, is de- 
 clared to be so sad a one, " that I," says Spenser, 
 
 with tears full oft do pity it, 
 
 And oftentimes do wish it never had been writ. 
 
 For never had she any enjoyment of life since the time 
 when Scudamore won her from twenty knights, all of 
 whom he had to fight and conquer before she became his ; 
 the vile enchanter Busirane having contrived on her 
 wedding-day, in the midst of the bridal feast, to carry her 
 off, as if in sport, by means of that Masque of Love of 
 his, and having since detained her for seven long months 
 in durance and torment, till she was delivered by Brito- 
 mart, as related in the last Canto of the preceding Book. 
 But her misfortunes are not yet at an end. Scudamore, 
 as we have seen, is still lost to her and she is left 
 alone with the Briton maid, whose sex of course she 
 docs not suspect. It would be a pleasant tale, says the 
 poet, to tell " the diverse usage and demeanour daint " 
 of the one to the other, as they rode along :
 
 Omto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 85 
 
 For Amoret right fearful was and faint 
 Lest she with blame her honour should attaint, 
 That every word did tremble as she spake, 
 And every look was coy and wondrous quaint, 
 And every limb that touched her did quake ; 
 Yet could she not but courteous countenance to her 
 make. 
 At last one evening they come to a castle, where many 
 knights and ladies are assembled to witness and take 
 part in deeds of arms : — 
 
 Amongst all which was none more fair than she, 
 That many of them moved to eye her sore. 
 The custom of that place was such, that he 
 Which had no love nor leman tbere in store 
 Should either win him one, or lie without the door. 
 
 A jolly knight, who lays claim to Amoret, is easily 
 and speedily disposed of by " the warlike virgin;" yet, 
 although lie had been overthrown by her in fight, as he 
 seems to be a youth of valour, she, who is as courteous as 
 stout, is loth that he should be either forced to pass the 
 night in the open air, or that the custom of the place 
 should be broken. Having first, therefore, obtained an 
 assurance that in any circumstances Amoret should re- 
 main under her protection, she then surprises them all 
 by claiming the admission of the knight into the castle 
 as due to her, his conqueror, in her quality of a lady : 
 With that, her glistering helmet she unlaced ; 
 Which doft, her golden locks, that were upbound 
 Still in a knot, unto her heels down traced," 
 And like a silken veil in compass round 
 About her back and all her body wound : 
 Like as the shining sky in summer's night, 
 What time the days with scorching heat abound, 
 Is crested all with lines of fiery light, 
 That it prodigious seems in common people's sight. 
 
 Some think that the transformation is the work of en- 
 chantment ; some that she is Bellona, the Goddess of 
 War, visibly revealed to them " with shield and armour 
 fit." But to Amoret especially the discovery is a great 
 
 w Passed.
 
 66 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. TBook IV. 
 
 relief. The two spend the night in conversing of their 
 loves, and then on the morrow at sunrise resume their 
 journey. At length they spy two armed knights pacing 
 towards them, each with a lady, as seems, riding by his 
 side ; but ladies they are none, although fair enough in 
 face and outward show : the one is the false Duessa, in 
 yet another of her endless disguises — 
 
 For she could don so many shapes in sight 
 
 As ever could chamelion colours new ; 
 
 So could she forge all colours, save the true : 
 
 the other was no whit better than she, but rather, if pos- 
 sible, much worse: " her name was Ate, mother of de- 
 bate and all dissension," raised by Duessa 
 
 from below 
 
 Out of the dwellings of the damned sprites, 
 
 Where she in darkness wastes her cursed days and nights. 
 
 Her dwelling is " in a darksome delve, far under ground," 
 " hard by the gates of hell ;" environed with thorns and 
 brakes, yet with many ways to enter, although with none 
 whereby to issue forth : — 
 
 And all within the riven walls were hung 
 
 With ragged monuments of times forepast, 
 
 All which the sad effects of discord sung: 
 
 There were rent robes and broken sceptres placed ; 
 
 Altars defiled, and holy things defaced ; 
 
 Disshivered spears, and shields ytorn in twain ; 
 
 Great cities ransacked, and strong castles rased : 
 
 Nations captived, and huge armies slain : 
 
 Of all which ruins there some relics did remain. 
 
 There was the sign of antique Babylon ; 
 
 Of fatal Thebes ; of Rome that reigned long ; 
 
 Of sacred Salem; and sad Ilion, 
 
 For memory of which on high there hong 
 
 The golden apple, cause of all their wrong, 
 
 For which the three fair goddesses did strive : 
 
 There also was the name of Nimrod strong • 
 
 Of Alexander, and bis princes five; 
 
 Which shared to them the spoils that he had got alive :
 
 Canto 1.1 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 87 
 
 And there the relics of the drunken fray 
 The which amongst the Lapithees befell : 
 And of the bloody feast, which sent away 
 So many centaurs' drunken souls to hell, 
 That under great Alcides' fury fell : 
 And of the dreadful discord, which did drive 
 The noble Argonauts to outrage fell. 
 That each of life sought others to deprive, 
 All mindless of the golden fleece, which made them 
 strive. 
 
 And eke of private persons many moe, 
 
 That were too long a work to count them all : 
 
 Some, of sworn friends that did their faith forego : 
 
 Some, of born brethren proved unnatural : 
 
 Some, of dear lovers foes perpetual : 
 
 Witness their broken bands there to be seen, 
 
 Their girlands rent, their bowers despoiled all; 
 
 The moniments whereof there biding been. 
 
 As plain as at the first when they were fresh and green. 
 
 Such was her house within : but all without, 
 The barren ground was full of wicked weeds. 
 Which she herself had sowen all about, 
 Now growen great, at first of little seeds, 
 The seeds of evil words and factious deeds ; 
 Which, when to ripeness due they growen are, 
 Bring forth an infinite increase, that breeds 
 Tumultuous trouble, and contentious jar. 
 The which most often end in bloodshed and in war. 
 
 And those same cursed seeds do also serve 
 To her for bread, and yield her living food: 
 For life it is to her, when others sterve 
 Through mischievous debate and deadly feud, 
 That she may suck their life and drink their blood, 
 With which she from her childhood had been fed : 
 For she at first was born of hellish brood, 
 And by infernal furies nourished ; 
 That by her monstrous shape might easily be read. 
 
 Her face most foul and filthy was to see, 
 With squinted eyes contrary ways intended, 
 And loathly mouth, unmeet a mouth to be, 
 That nought but gall and venom comprehended,
 
 88 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 And wicked words that God and man offended : 
 Her lying tongue was in two parts divided, 
 And both the parts did speak, and both contended ; 
 And as her tongue so Mas her heart discided,* 
 That never thought one thing, but doubly still was 
 guided. 
 
 Als, as she double spake, so heard she double, 
 
 With matchless ears deformed and distort, 
 
 Filled with false rumours and seditious trouble, 
 
 Bred in assemblies of tlie vulgar sort, 
 
 That still are led with every light report : 
 
 And, as her ears, so eke her feet were odd. 
 
 And much unlike ; the one long, the other short, 
 
 And both misplaced ; that, when the one forward yode,» 
 
 The other back retired and contrary trode. 
 
 Likewise unequal were her handes twain ; 
 That one did reach, the other pushed away ; 
 That one did make, the other marred again, 
 And sought to bring all things unto decay ; 
 Whereby great riches, gathered many a day, 
 She in short space did often bring to nought, 
 And their possessors often did dismay : 
 For all her study was and all her thought 
 How she might overthrow the things that Concord 
 wrought. 
 
 So much her malice did her might surpass, 
 
 That even the Almighty self she did malign, 
 
 Because to man so merciful he was, 
 
 And unto all his creatures so benign, 
 
 Sith she herself was of his grace indign : z 
 
 For all this world's fair workmanship she tried 
 
 Unto his last confusion to bring, 
 
 And that great golden chain quite to divide, 
 
 With which it blessed Concord hath together tied. 
 
 The two knights are our former acquaintance, Paridel, 
 who accompanies Ate, and a new personage, Sir Bland- 
 amour, " a man of mickle might,'' and " that bore great 
 sway in arms and chivalry," who has attached himself to 
 Duessa ; 
 
 x Cut in two. » Went. * Unworthy.
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 89 
 
 For, though, like withered tree that wanteth juice, 
 
 She old and crooked were, yet now of late 
 
 As fresh and fragrant as the flower-de-luce 
 
 She was become, by change of her estate, 
 
 And made full goodly joyance to her new-found mate. 
 
 When they perceive Britomart and Amoret, Blandamour 
 proposes to Paridel that he should attack the former, who 
 must be supposed to have resumed her knightly attire ; 
 but Paridel remembers his late mischance, as related in 
 the Ninth Canto of the last Book, and willingly leaves 
 the enterprize to his friend, who thereupon makes his 
 onset gallantly enough, but meets with the same sudden 
 discomfiture as all those who encounter the warlike Bri- 
 toness and her enchanted spear. However, when Brito- 
 mart and Amoret have passed on, he is again set on his 
 horse by his companions, and the four proceed on their 
 way as before, till they meet two other knights, one of 
 whom Blandamour immediately perceives to be Sir 
 Scudamore, 
 
   by that he bore 
 
 The God of Love with wings displayed wide; 
 Whom mortally he hated evermore, 
 Both for his worth, that all men did adore, 
 And eke because his love he won by right. 
 
 Unable, from his bruised condition, to " wreak his old 
 despite," he applies to Paridel to do as he had just been 
 done by : — • 
 
 *' Ah ! Sir," said Paridel, " do not dismay 
 
 Yourself for this; myself will for you fight, 
 
 As ye have done for me : The left hand rubs the right." 
 
 Paridel and Scudamore meet like too opposing " billows 
 in the Irish Sounds ;" but the former is soon overthrown. 
 Blandamour upon this, though he can do no more, at- 
 tacks the victor with words of reproach and insult. 
 Duessa sarcastically beseeches him not to distress him- 
 self or be wroth that his love " list love another 
 knight ;" — 
 
 " For love is free, and led with self-delight, 
 
 Ne will enforced be with niaisterdom <>r might : " —
 
 90 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 but Ate, striking in, exclaims that she can but laugh both 
 at Scudamore and Blandamour for striving and storming 
 about one who cares for neither, but loves another, 
 with whom she both lovingly journeys and sleeps. When 
 Scudamore interrupts her with a passionate asseveration 
 that she lies, she repeats her statement with a more pre- 
 cise detail of circumstances : — 
 
 Which whenas Scudamore did hear, his heart 
 Was thrilled with inward grief: as, when in chase 
 The Parthian strikes a stag with shivering dart, 
 The beast astonished stands in middest of his smart ; 
 
 So stood Sir Scudamore when this he heard ; 
 Ne word he had to speak for great dismay, 
 But looked on Glance grim. 
 
 Glauce, it may be recollected, bad accompanied Scud- 
 amore when he set out from the house of Busirane, as 
 related in the concluding stanza of the preceding Book. 
 Blandamour and Duessa now taunt and triumph over the 
 unhappy knight; he on the other hand is too much dis- 
 tressed to answer, and after they have left him and Glauce 
 by themselves he is hardly prevented by the sober and 
 soothing words with which the old woman endeavours to 
 assuage his fury from sacrificing her to his rage and thirst 
 of revenge as an abettor of the disloyalty which he im- 
 putes to Britomart. Glauce of course knows that there 
 is and can be no ground for what he believes ; but we 
 are to suppose that the fear and perturbation in which 
 she is, or her fidelity to her mistress and reluctance to 
 betray her secret, withhold her from relieving Scudamore 
 and also averting all danger from herself by the requisite 
 easy and conclusive explanation. There are, however, 
 it may be remarked, several things in tins Canto which 
 are somewhat perplexing, but about which the commen- 
 tators give themselves no trouble ; especially the whole 
 of the part played by Ate — the contradiction between her 
 first introduction as having the appearance of a beautiful 
 lady and the subsequent description of her foul and filthy 
 face, and her position in relation to Paridel, who is at 
 first represented as having her riding by his side in the
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 91 
 
 same manner as Blandamour has Duessa, but is notwith- 
 standing soon after expressly stated to be unprovided 
 with any particular lady-love for the present. The 
 figure seems to have taken successively two distinct shapes 
 under the poet's forming fancy, or to have been originally 
 designed for something different from what she eventually 
 turns out. 
 
 Canto II. (54 stanzas).—" Firebrand of hell, first fined 
 (or kindled) in Phlegethon by a thousand furies," ex- 
 claims the poet hi commencing this stanza, " is wicked 
 Discord "— 
 
 whose small sparks once blown 
 
 None but a god or godlike man can slake : 
 
 Such as was Orpheus, that, when strife was grown 
 
 Amongst those famous imps of Greece, did take 
 
 His silver harp in hand and shortly friends them make. 
 
 When the story is resumed we find ourselves in com- 
 pany of Blandamour and Paridel, and their two female 
 fellow-travellers — "the one a fiend, the other an incar- 
 nate devil." It may be remembered that in the Eighth 
 Canto of the last Book the snowy lady formed alter the 
 likeness of Florimel, after falling into the hands of Brag- 
 gadoccio, was carried otf from that vaunting dastard by a 
 knight who is there left unnamed. This knight, who, 
 we are now informed, is called the bold Sir Ferraugh, is 
 the next person whom the four encounter, riding along 
 in high delight with his fair-seeming prize. He is at- 
 tacked and overthrown by Blandamour, and the false 
 Florimel passes to a new proprietor. She is more expert 
 than Blandamour himself in every subtile sleight, and, 
 although he 
 
 - 
 
 by his false allurements' wily draft* 
 
 Had thousand women of their love beraft, b 
 
 yet he is now completely deceived and taken in, and 
 every day becomes more enamoured and enslaved. Ate, 
 however, after a time stirs up Paridel to demand his 
 share of the lady, according to a covenant which he says 
 
 a Strategem. b Bereft.
 
 92 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 they bad made to divide between tbem whatever spoil or 
 prey should be taken by either. A long and desperate 
 fight ensues, which the poet supposes might have gone 
 on till this day, if there had not come up by chance 
 another notable personage of the last Book, the Squire of 
 Dames, who, well knowing them both of old, prevails 
 upon the two combatants, though not without difficulty, 
 to suspend their animosity. The Squire is greatly de- 
 lighted to see the snowy lady — " for none alive but 
 joyed in Florimel," and he, as well as all others, had 
 thought her dead or lost. He tells them that Satyrane 
 having found her girdle, which he had ever since worn 
 for her sake, had on that account excited the envy and 
 displeasure of many other knights ; to put an end to 
 •which he had lately proclaimed a solemn feast and tour- 
 nay, " to which," he adds, " all knights with them their 
 ladies are to bring :" 
 
 " And of them all she that is fairest found 
 Shall have that golden girdle for reward; 
 And of those knights who is most stout on ground 
 Shall to that fairest lady be prefard. c 
 Since therefore she herself is now your ward, 
 To you that ornament of her's pertains, 
 Against all those that challenge it. to guard, 
 And save her honour with your venturous pains; 
 That shall you win more glory than ye here find gains." 
 
 This prospect reunites the two, for the present at least, so 
 that they ride along in outward harmony as before, 
 though their friendship, as indeed it always had been, is 
 but hollow and precarious. Thus proceeding, they over- 
 take two knights riding close beside each other as if in 
 intimate converse, with their two ladies similarly asso- 
 ciated not far behind them ; and the Squire being sent 
 forward to ascertain who they are, comes back with the 
 intelligence that they are " two of the prowest knights 
 in Fairy Land," Gambol and Triamond, and that the 
 ladies are Canace and Cambin " their two lovers dear." 
 The poet now prepares himself for what he is about to 
 
 c Preferred.
 
 - 
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 93 
 
 relate by invocation of his greatest. English predeces- 
 sor: — 
 
 Whilome, as antique stories tellen us, 
 Those two were foes the fellonest d on ground, 
 And battle made the dreadest dangerous 
 That ever shrilling trumpet did resound ; 
 Though now their acts be nowhere to be found, 
 As that renowined poet them compiled 
 With warlike numbers and heroic sound, 
 i^Dau Chaucer, well of English undefiled, 
 On fame's eternal beadroll worthy to be filtfd. 
 
 But wicked Time, that all good thoughts doth waste, 
 And works of noblest wits to nought outwear, 
 That famous moniment hath quite defaced, 
 And robbed the world of threasure endless dear, 
 The which mote have enriched all us here. 
 
 cursed eld, the canker-worm of writs ! 
 
 How may these rhymes, so rude as doth appear, 
 Hope to endure, sith works of heavenly wits 
 Are quite devoured, and brought to nought by little 
 bits! 
 
 Then pardon, most sacred happy spirit, 
 That 1 thy labours lost may thus revive, 
 And steal from thee the meed of thy due merit, 
 That none durst ever whilst thou wast alive, 
 And, being dead, in vain yet many strive : 
 Ne dare 1 like ; but, through infusion sweet 
 Of thine own spirit which doth in me survive, 
 
 1 follow here the footing of thy feet. 
 
 That with thy meaning so I may the rather meet. 
 
 The allusion is to the unfinished Tale of the Squire in the 
 Canterbury Tales, the last lines of which are, 
 
 " And after wol I speak of Cambalo, 
 
 That fought in listes with the brethren two 
 For Canace, ere that he might her win, 
 And there I left I wol again begin." 
 
 Cambalo, Camballo, Camballus, Cambello, or Cambel,— 
 
 lor all these transformations the name is made to undergo 
 
 d Fiercest.
 
 94 SPESSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 according to the exigences of the measure and the 
 rhyme — was the brother of Canace ; and she 
 
 was the learnedst lady in her days, 
 
 Well seen in every science that mote be, 
 And every secret work of nature's ways ; 
 In witty riddles ; and in wise soothsays; 
 In power of herbs ; and tunes of beasts and birds ; 
 And, that augmented all her other praise, 
 She modest was in all her deeds and words, 
 And wondrous chaste of life, yet loved of knights and 
 lords. 
 
 Many lords and knights loved her, and the more she 
 refused to return the affection of any one of them, " so 
 much the more she loved was and sought." At last, 
 their contention having produced many bloody fights, 
 one day, having assembled all the troop of warlike 
 wooers, Cambel, who was both stout and wise, proposed 
 to them that they should each in succession fight for her 
 vvith himself, and that whoever should conquer him 
 should carry off his sister. " Bold was the challenge, as 
 himself was bold ;" but what chiefly gave him confidence 
 was not so much his own strength and hardihood as a 
 ring provided for him by his sister, one of many virtues 
 of which was that it " had power to staunch all wounds 
 that mortally did bleed." Now, 
 
 Amongst those knights there were three brethren bold, 
 Three bolder brethren never were yborn, 
 Born of one mother in one happy mould, 
 Born at one burden in one happy morn ; 
 Thrice happy mother, and thrice happy morn, 
 That bore three such, three such not to be fond ! e 
 Her name was Agape, whose children wern* 
 All three as one ; the first hight Priamond, 
 The second Diamond, the youngest Triamond. 
 
 Stout Priamond, but not so strong to strike ; 
 Strong Diamond, but not so stout a knight ; 
 But Triamond was stout and strong alike : 
 On horseback used Triamond to fight, 
 
 e Found. f Were.
 
 t'antn II.] THE TAIRY QUEEN. 95 
 
 And Priamond on foot had more delight; 
 
 But horse and foot knew Diamond to wield : 
 
 With curtaxe used Diamond to smite, 
 
 And Triamond to handle spear and shield, 
 
 But spear and curtaxe both used Priamond in field. 
 
 These three did love each other dearly well, 
 
 And with so firm affection were allied 
 
 As if but one soul in them all did dwell, 
 
 Which did her power into three parts divide ; 
 
 Like three fair branches budding far and wide, 
 
 That from one root derived their vital sap : 
 
 And like that root, that doth her life divide, 
 
 Their mother was ; and had full blessed hap 
 
 These three so noble babes to bring forth at one clap. 
 
 Their mother was a fairy, their father a young and noble 
 knight, into whose hands she had one day fallen in a 
 forest, 
 
 As she sate careless by a crystal flood, 
 Combing her golden locks. 
 
 As they grew up their love of arms and adventures so 
 alarmed their mother that to relieve her anxiety she had 
 betaken her, in order to learn their destiny, to the house 
 of the Three Fatal Sisters : — 
 
 Down in the bottom of the deep abyss, 
 
 Where Demogorgon, in dull darkness pent, 
 
 Far from the view of gods and heaven's bliss 
 
 The hideous Chaos keeps, their dreadful dwelling is. 
 
 There she them found all sitting round about 
 The direful distaff standing in the mid, 
 And with unwearied fingers drawing out 
 The lines of life, from living knowledge hid. 
 Sad Clotho held the rock, the whiles the thread 
 By grisly Lachesis was spun with pain, 
 That cruel Atropos eftsoons undid, 
 With cursed knife cutting the twist in twain ; 
 Most wretched men, whose days depend on threads so 
 vain ! 
 
 After having saluted them she sate by them for a while in
 
 9G SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 silence, '• beholding how the threads of life they span ;" 
 then, trembling and pale, she told them her object : —   
 
 To whom fierce Atropos : " Bold fay, that durst 
 
 Come see the secret of the life of man, 
 
 Well worthy thou to be of Jove accurst 
 
 And eke thy children's threads to be asunder burst !" 
 
 Clotho, however, consented to show her her children's 
 threads, and much distressed she was to see them as thin 
 as those spun by spiders, and also so short that they 
 seemed already almost at an end. She besought them 
 " to draw them longer out, and better twine;" but the 
 inexorable Lachesis answered that that was impossible — 
 
 • " Fond dame ! that deem'st of things divine 
 
 As of humane, that they may altered be, 
 And changed at pleasure for those imps of thine : 
 Not so ; tor what the Fates do once decree, 
 Not all the gods can change, nor Jove himself can 
 free !" 
 
 She then made a last request: 
 
 " Grant this ; that when ye shred with fatal knife 
 His line which is the eldest of the three, 
 Which is of them the shortest, as I see, 
 Eftsoons his life may puss into the next ; 
 And, when the next shall likewise ended be, 
 That both their lives may likewise be annext 
 Unto the third, that his may be so trebly wext."' 
 
 This they granted ; upon which she departed in content. 
 When she came home she concealed from her sons what 
 she had learned ; 
 
 But evermore, when she fit time could find, 
 She warned them to tend their safeties well, 
 And love each other dear, whatever them befell. 
 
 This counsel they duly followed, no discord ever dividing 
 them ; and now, to add to their mutual affection, they 
 were all three united in love of Canace. Out of this 
 state of things arose the great battle to be related in the 
 next Canto.
 
 Unrito CI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 97 
 
 Canto III. (52 stanzas). — " () why," asks the poet, 
 in commencing the continuation of the story of the three 
 sons of Agape, 
 
 ! why do wretched men so much desire 
 
 To draw their days unto the utmost date, 
 
 And do not rather M'ish them soon expire ; 
 
 Knowing the misery of their estate, 
 
 And thousand perils which them still await, 
 
 Tossing them like a boat amid the main, 
 
 That every hour they knock at Deathes gate ! 
 
 And he that happy seems and least in pain, 
 
 Yet is as nigh his end as he that most doth plain. 
 
 He holds this fairy mother, therefore, but fond and vain, 
 
 The which, in seeking for her children three 
 Long life, thereby did more prolong their pain. 
 
 Yet while they lived, he adds, more happy creatures 
 than they seemed to be none ever saw, nor any of nobler 
 courtesy, nor more dearly loved, nor more renowned. 
 All the other suitors, not unreasonably, declined the 
 encounter with Cambel and his miraculous ring ; the 
 three brothers alone accepted his challenge to fight with 
 him for Canaee. And now the appointed morning was 
 come; " the field with lists was all about inclosed;" — 
 on the one side sate six judges to watch and declare the 
 issue of the fight — on the other 
 
 in fresh array 
 
 Fair Canaee upon a stately stage 
 Was set, to see the fortune of that fray, 
 And to be seen. 
 
 First Cambel entered the lists ; soon after, the three bro- 
 thers, 
 
 With scutcheons gilt and banners broad displayed ; 
 And, marching thrice in warlike ordinance, 
 Thrice lowted lowly to the noble Maid ; 
 The whiles shrill trumpets and loud clarions sweetly 
 played. 
 
 The first that comes forth to answer the challenger's call 
 is Priamond, the eldest ; after a fierce combat, in which 
 Cambel, although, protected by the ring, he loses no 
 blood, yet receives some severe bruises and wounds, he 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 98 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 : .s slain by his vveasand-pipe being cleft through his 
 gorget, and in a gush of purple blood his weary ghost is 
 let forth : 
 
 His weary ghost, assoiled from fleshly band, 
 
 Did not as others wont, directly fly 
 
 Unto her rest in Pluto's grisly land ; 
 
 Ne into air did vanish presently ; 
 
 Ne changed was into a star in sky ; 
 
 But through traduction was eftsoons derived, 
 
 Like as his mother prayed the Destiny, 
 
 Into his other brethren that survived. 
 
 In whom he lived anew, of former life deprived. 
 
 Instantly the next brother, Diamond, sad and sorry 
 enough, yet giving no time to grief, started forward to 
 otter himself to the like chance : " his foe was soon ad- 
 dressed ; the trumpets freshly blew." 
 
 With that they both together fiercely met, 
 
 As if that each meant other to devour ; 
 
 And with their axes both so sorely bet, 
 
 That neither plate nor mail, whereas their power 
 
 They felt, could once sustain the hideous stour, 
 
 But rived were, like rotten wood, asunder ; 
 
 Whilst through their rifts the ruddy blood did shower, 
 
 And fire did flash, like lightning after thunder, 
 
 That filled the lookers on at ouce with ruth aud wonder. 
 
 As when two tigers pricked with hunger's rage 
 
 Have by good fortune found some beast's fresh spoil, 
 
 On which they ween their famine to assuage, 
 
 And gain a feastful guerdon of their toil ; 
 
 Both falling out do stir up strifeful broil, 
 
 And cruel battle twixt themselves do make, 
 
 Whiles neither lets the other touch the soil,s 
 
 But either sdaius h with other to partake : 
 
 So cruelly those knights strove for that lady's sake. 
 
 The fight is long, but ends like the former ; Diamond's 
 head is severed from his shoulders by Cambel's axe. Yet 
 the decapitated man continues on the perpendicular : — 
 
 s The prey (properly, the mire in which an animal of 
 chase wallows). 
 h Disdains.
 
 Canto III.] THE FA IKY QUEEN. 99 
 
 The headless trunk, as heedless of that stour, 
 Stood still awhile, and his fast footing kept; 
 Till, feeling life to fail, it fell, and deadly slept' 
 
 They which that piteous spectacle beheld 
 
 Were much amazed the headless trunk to see 
 
 Stand up so long aud weapon vain to weld, > 
 
 Unweetiug of the Fates' divine decree 
 
 For life's succession in those brethren three. 
 
 For notwithstanding that one soul w-as reft, 
 
 Yet, had the body not dismembered be, 
 
 It would have lived, and revived eft ; k 
 
 But, finding no fit seat, the lifeless corse it left. 
 
 It left ; but that same soul which therein dwelt, 
 Straight, entering into Triamond him filled 
 With double life and grief. 
 
 Lightly leaping forward, the third and last brother loses 
 not a moment in confronting the victor — who on his part 
 meets his new foe with equal alacrity. 
 
 Well mote ye wonder how that noble knight, 
 After he had so often wounded been, 
 Could stand on foot now to renew the fight : 
 But, had ye then him forth advancing seen, 
 Some newborn wight ye would him surely ween; 
 So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight ; 
 Like as a snake, whom weary winter's teen 1 
 Hath worn to nought, now feeling summer's might 
 Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth him dight. 
 
 All was through virtue of the ring he wore ; 
 
 The which not only did not from him let 
 
 One drop of blood to fall, but did restore 
 
 His weakened powers, and dulled spirits whet, 
 
 Through working of the stone therein yset. 
 
 Else how could one of equal might with most, 
 
 Against so many no less mighty met, 
 
 Once think to match three such on equal cost, 
 
 Three such as able were to match a puissant host? 
 
 ' Slept in death. 
 
 J And Cambel's weapon wielded in vain ? 
 
 k Again. ' Injury.
 
 100 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Yet nought thereof was Triamond adread, 
 
 Ne desperate n of glorious victory ; 
 
 But sharply him assailed, and sore bested 
 
 With heaps of strokes, which he at him let fly 
 
 As thick as hail forth poured from the sky : 
 
 He strook, he souced, he foined,? he hewed, he lashed, 
 
 And did his iron brand so fast apply, 
 
 That from the same the fiery sparkles flashed, 
 
 As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rock are dashed. 
 
 Cambel is forced for a time to give ground ; but in his 
 turn he forces Triamond to retreat : — 
 
 Like as the tide, that comes fro the ocean main, 
 Flows up the Shenan'! with contrary force, 
 And, over-ruling him in his own reign, 
 Drives back the current of his kindly r course, 
 And makes it seem to have some other source ; 
 But, when the flood is spent, then, back again 
 His borrowed waters forced to re-disburse, 
 He sends the sea his own with double gain, 
 And tribute eke withall, as to his sovereign. 
 
 In this way the battle for a long time continues varying 
 to and fro, Triamond, however, gradually growing fainter 
 from loss of blood : 
 
 But Cambel still more strong and greater grew, 
 Ne felt his blood to waste, ne powers emperished, 
 Through that ring's virtue, that with vigour new, 
 Still, whenas he enfeebled was, him cherished. 
 And all his wounds and all his bruises guerished : » 
 Like as a withered tree, through husband's 1 toil, 
 Is often seen full freshly to have flourisht, 
 And fruitful apples to have borne awhile, 
 As fresh as when it first was planted in the soil. 
 
 Through which advantage, in his strength he rose 
 And smote the other with so wondrous might, 
 That through the seam which did his hauberk close 
 Into his throat and life it pierced quite, 
 
 r 
 
 Terrified. n Hopeless. ° Came plunging down. 
 
 f Pushed. i The Shannon. 
 
 ~ -tural. " Cured. ' Husbandman's.
 
 into HI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 101 
 
 That down he fell as dead in all men's sight : 
 Yet dead he was not ; yet he sure did die, 
 As all men do that lose the living sprite : 
 So did one soul out of his body riy r 
 Unto her native home from mortal misery. 
 
 But natheless whilst all the lookers-on 
 
 Him dead behight," as he to all appeared, 
 
 All unawares he started up anon, 
 
 As one that had out of a dream been reared, 
 
 And fresh assailed his foe ; who half afeard 
 
 Of the uncouth sight, as he some ghost had seen, 
 
 Stood still amazed, holding his idle sweard ; » 
 
 Till, having often by him stricken been, 
 
 He forced was to strike and save himself from teen. 
 
 Cambel, however, after this fights loss furiously, " as one 
 3 fear the Stygian gods to offend." At last, each re- 
 ceiving a tremendous stroke from the other at the same 
 moment, they both at once fall to all appearance dead 
 upon the field. But lo, when the judges have risen, the 
 marshals broken up the lists, and Canace given herself 
 up to weeping and wailing, up start again both combatants, 
 the one out of his swoon, the other breathing a new life, 
 and instantly fall to fighting afresh. They strike and hew 
 away at one another for a further length of time ; and the 
 case still hangs in doubt, when 
 
 All suddenly they heard a troublous noise, 
 That seemed some perilous tumult to design, 
 Confused with women's cries and shouts of boys, 
 Such as the troubled theatres ofttimes annoys. 
 
 Thereat the champions both stood still a space, 
 To weeten what that sudden clamour meant: 
 Lo ! where they spied with speedy whirling pace 
 One in a chariot of strange furniment w 
 Towards them driving like a storm out sent. 
 The chariot decked was in wondrous wise 
 With gold and many a gorgeous ornament, 
 After the Persian monarchs' antique guise, 
 Such as the maker self could best by art devise. 
 
   Affirmed. * Sword. w FurnitlBB.
 
 102 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV 
 
 The chariot is drawn by two lions, and in it sits a most 
 beautiful lady, seeming " born of angels' brood," and 
 with a look of bounty, or goodness, equal to her beauty. 
 This is Cambina, a daughter of the Fairy Agape, who, 
 having been trained in magic by her mother, and having 
 by her mighty art learned the evil plight in which her 
 brother Triamond now is, has come to aid him, and to put 
 an end to the deadly strife between him and Cambel. 
 
 And, as she passed through the unruly preace x 
 Of people thronging thick her to behold, 
 Her angry team, breaking their bonds of peace, 
 Great heaps of them, like sheep in narrow fold, 
 For haste did over-run in dust enrolled ; 
 That, thorough rude confusion of the rout. 
 Some fearing shrieked, some being harmed howled, 
 Some laughed for sport, some did for wonder shout, 
 And some, that would seem wise, their wonder turned to 
 doubt. 
 
 In her right hand a rod of peace she bore, 
 
 About the which two serpents weren wound, 
 
 Entrailed* mutually in lovely lore, 
 
 And by the tails together firmly bound, 
 
 And both were with one olive girland crowned ; 
 
 (Like to the rod which Maia's son doth wield, 
 
 Wherewith the hellish fiends he doth confound;) 
 
 And in her other hand a cup she hild,* 
 
 The which was with Nepenthe to the brim upfilled. 
 
 Nepenthe is a drink of sovereign grace, 
 Devised by *,he gods for to assuage 
 Heart's grief, and bitter gall away to chase 
 Which stirs up anguish and contentious rage : 
 Instead thereof sweet peace and quietage 
 It doth establish in the troubled mind. 
 Few men, but such as sober are and sage, 
 Are by the gods to drink thereof assigned ; 
 But such as drink, eternal happiness do find. 
 
 Such famous men, such worthies of the earth, 
 
 As Jove will have advanced to the sky, 
 
 And there made gods, though born of mortal birth, 
 
 x Press. y Interwoven. z Held
 
 Canto III/] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 103 
 
 For their high merits and great dignity, 
 
 Are wont, before they may to heaven fly, 
 
 To drink hereof; whereby all cares forepast 
 
 Are washed away quite from their memory : 
 
 So did those old heroes hereof taste, 
 
 Before that they in bliss amongst the gods were placed. 
 
 Much more of price and of more gracious power 
 
 Is this, than that same water of Ardenne, 
 
 The which Rinaldo drunk in happy hour, 
 
 Described by that famous Tuscan pen : 
 
 For that had might to change the hearts of men 
 
 Fro love to hate, a change of evil choice : 
 
 But this doth hatred make in love to bren, a 
 
 And heavy heart with comfort doth rejoice. 
 
 Who would not to this virtue rather yield his voice ? 
 
 [The fountain here alluded to was made by Merlin to 
 cure Sir Tristram (who, however, never drank of it) of 
 his love for Isotta, or Isolde, and is mentioned by Boy- 
 ardo in the First Book of the Orlando Innamorato.] 
 
 When she has reached the lists, Cambina softly smites 
 the rail with her rod, and forthwith it flies open and gives 
 her passage. Then descending from her coach she salutes 
 first her brother and next Cambel, for whom, it is inti- 
 mated, she entertains a secret love. As they continue to 
 fight she throws herself down on the bloody ground, and, 
 mixing prayers with her tears, and reasons with her 
 prayers, entreats them to desist. 
 
 But, whenas all might nought with them prevail, 
 She smote them lightly with her powerful wand : 
 Then suddenly, as if their hearts did fail, 
 Their wrathful blades down fell out of their hand, 
 And they, like men astonished, still did stand. 
 Thus, whilst their minds were doubtfully distraught, 
 And mighty spirits bound with mightier band, 
 Her golden cup to them for drink she raught, b 
 Whereof, full glad for thirst, each drunk an hearty 
 
 draught : 
 Of which so soon as they once tasted had, 
 Wonder it is that sudden change to see : 
 
 a Burn. b Reached.
 
 104 SPENSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad, 
 
 And lovely halst, 1 -' from fear of treason free, 
 
 And plighted hands, for ever friends to be. 
 
 When all men saw this sudden change of things, 
 
 So mortal foes so friendly to agree, 
 
 For passing joy, which so great marvel brings, 
 
 They all gan shout aloud, that all the heaven rings. 
 
 Canace now conies down from her seat to know what it 
 is that has happened ; she and Cambina become friends 
 on the spot ; the trumpets sound, and all the people 
 arising depart in glee and gladness ; 
 
 And wise Cambina, taking by her side 
 Fair Canace as fresh as morning rose, 
 Unto her coach remounting, home did ride, 
 Admired of all the people and much glorified. 
 
 Where making joyous feast their days they spent 
 In perfect love, devoid of hateful strife, 
 Allied with bands of mutual complement ; 
 For Triamond had Canace to wife, 
 With whom he led a long and happy life; 
 And Cambel took Cambina to his fere, d 
 The which as life were each to other lief." 
 So all alike did love, and loved were, 
 That since their days such lovers were not found else- 
 where. 
 
 Canto IV. (48 stanzas). — The main story of the poem 
 is now resumed from the point where Cambel, Triamond, 
 Cambina, and Canace are overtaken by Blandamour, 
 Paridel, the Squire of Dames, Duessa, Ate, and the 
 false Florimel, in the second Canto. Blandamour, vain- 
 glorious and insolent, notwithstanding the entreaty of the 
 courteous squire that he would let them and their ladies 
 pass on in quiet, assails the two stranger knights, as was 
 his wont, with his foul tongue— so that, stung by his 
 unprovoked abuse — " for evil deeds may better than bad 
 words be borne " —they begin to adjust their shields and 
 to lay hold on their spears, when Cambina interposes, 
 and by her mild persuasions prevents the quarrel from 
 
 c Embraced. d Companion, wife. e Dear.
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 105 
 
 going farther. They all now ride on together, discoursing 
 of the tourney, till after a while they perceive advancing 
 towards them " one in bright arms, with ready spear in 
 rest," who, however, upon observing Paridel ready to 
 take him in hand, quickly assumes a gay and good-hu- 
 moured demeanour, and joins their company. But, as 
 soon as he looks about him and sees the snowy Florimel, 
 he lays claim to her as his own lost property. It is, in 
 fact, Braggadoccio, from whom, it may be remembered, 
 the false lady had been carried off by Ferraugh. Blanda- 
 mour hears his demand with infinite scorn, and proposes 
 that they shall immediately decide the controversy in the 
 usual way by a passage of arms, and that, while the 
 victor shall have the bright Florimel for his prize, the 
 other shall be obliged to console himself with the old 
 hag Ate — " and with her always ride till he another 
 get." 
 
 That offer pleased all the company : 
 
 So Florimel with Ate forth was brought, 
 
 At which they all gan laugh full merrily : 
 
 But Braggadoccio said, he never thought 
 
 For such an hag, that seemed worse than nought, 
 
 His person to emperil so in fight : 
 
 But if to match that lady they had sought 
 
 Another like, that were like fair and bright, 
 
 His life he then would spend to justify his right. 
 
 At which his vain excuse they all gan smile, 
 
 As scorning his unmanly cowardice : 
 
 And Florimel him foully gan revile, 
 
 That for her sake refused to enterprize 
 
 The battle, offered in so knightly wise ; 
 
 And Ate eke provoked him privily 
 
 With love of her, d and shame of much misprize. e 
 
 But nought he cared for friend or enemy ; 
 
 For in base mind nor friendship dwells nor enmity. 
 
 But Cambel thus did shut up all in jest ; 
 
 " Brave knights and ladies, certes ye do wrong 
 
 d That is, of Florimel. 
 Contempt, to which he exposed himself.
 
 106 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 To stir up strife, when most us needeth rest, 
 
 That we may us reserve both fresh and strong 
 
 Against the tournament which is not long/ 
 
 When whoso list to fight may fight his fill : 
 
 Till then your challenges ye may prolong ; 
 
 And then it shall be tried, if ye will, 
 
 Whether shall have the hag, or hold the lady still." 
 
 So they all ride on in merry mood, " that masked mock- 
 knight " affording them good sport all the while ; till 
 on the appointed day they come to the place of tourna- 
 ment, where they find already assembled " many a brave 
 knight, and many a dainty dame." All take their places, 
 knights and ladies marching in couples linked together : — 
 
 Then first of all forth came Sir Satyrane, 
 
 Bearing that precious relic in an ark 
 
 Of gold, that bad eyes might it not profane ; 
 
 Which drawing softly forth out of the dark, 
 
 He open shewed, that all men it mote mark ; 
 
 A gorgeous girdle, curiously embost 
 
 With pearl and precious stone, worth many a mark ; 
 
 Yet did the workmanship far pass the cost : 
 
 It was the same which lately Florimel had lost. 
 
 The same aloft he hung in open view, 
 To be the prize of beauty and of might ; 
 The which, eftsoons discovered, to it drew 
 The eyes of all, allured with close delight, 
 And hearts quite robbed with so glorious sight, 
 That all men threw out vows and wishes vain. 
 Thrice happy lady, and thrice happy knight, 
 Them seemed that could so goodly riches gain, 
 So worthy of the peril, worthy of the pain. 
 
 But how the girdle has come into the hands of Satyrane 
 is not explained. It was indeed found by him when he 
 came up to the spot where Florimel had dropped it in 
 her flight from the beast sent in pursuit of her by the 
 witch (B. iii. C. 7, s. 31) ; but he afterwards em- 
 ployed it to bind that monster (s. 36), which, we are 
 expressly told (C. 8, s. 2), returned so bound to the 
 
 f Not far off.
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAIR! QUEEN. 107 
 
 witch, who immediately (s. 3) took the girdle and ran 
 with it to show to her son as an evidence that Florimel 
 was destroyed. 
 
 Satyrane then takes his spear and " maiden-headed 
 shield," and presents himself ready for the fight. The 
 first who comes forth against him is a paynim knight, 
 called Bruncheval the Bold. They are thrown to the 
 ground together at the first encounter. On this another 
 knight, the noble Ferramont, rides up to the aid of 
 Satyrane, and against him Blandamour advances. BJanda- 
 mour and his horse are both thrown down, and then 
 Paridel rides forth to the rescue of his friend ; but he 
 meets the same fate. It is Braggadoccio's turn to strike 
 in next, but of course he does not stir ; and so Tria- 
 mond sternly steps forth, and at last bears down the 
 hitherto invincible Ferramont. Neither can Sir Devon, 
 nor Sir Douglas, nor Sir Palimord, who all come up in 
 succession, better stand his fury and force. Satyrane, 
 however, now recovers out of his swoon, — 
 
 And looking round about, like one dismayed, 
 
 Whenas he saw the merciless affray 
 
 Which doughty Triamond had wrought that day 
 
 Unto the noble knights of Maidenhead, 
 
 His mighty heart did almost rend in tway 
 
 For very gall, that rather wholly dead 
 
 Himself he wished have been than in so bad a stead. 
 
 Mounting his steed he dashes fiercely forward, 
 
 Like spark of fire that from the anvil glode, s 
 
 and, aiming " his beam-like spear" with all his strength, 
 wounds Triamond so severely in the side, that the utmost 
 the latter can do is to manage to withdraw himself with- 
 out being observed. 
 
 Then gan the part of challengers anew 
 To range the field, and victor-like to reign, 
 That none against them battle durst maintain. 
 By that the gloomy evening on them fell, 
 That forced them from fighting to refrain, 
 
 j. Glided.
 
 108 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 And trumpets' sound to cease did them compel : 
 So Satyrane that day was judged to bear the bell. 
 The next morning Triamond is still unable to appear; 
 but Cambel, without informing him, arrays himself in 
 his friend's shield and arms, and so presents himself be- 
 fore the triumphing Satyrane. Having encountered, 
 they are at the first onset thrown to the ground together, 
 but, quickly springing up and betaking themselves to 
 their swords, they continue the fight, till, Satyrane's 
 horse stumbling, Cambel by a blow on his helmet unseats 
 him, and throws him down among the animal's feet. 
 He himself instantly dismounts and is about to disarm 
 his prostrate adversary, when a hundred knights rush up 
 to the rescue of Satyrane, and all fall to pounding him 
 with their swords at once. Stoutly as he resists they 
 succeed in taking him captive. When news of this is 
 brought to Triamond, he soon forgets his wound, and, 
 starting up, seeks for his arms ; which when he cannot 
 find, he hastily takes those of Cambel, and issuing forth 
 rushes into the thick of the knights who hold his friend 
 a prisoner, and soon compels them to let him go. The 
 two knights, joining together, carry everything before 
 them — till at last the trumpets sound, and the prize is 
 unanimously declared to be theirs. Neither, however, 
 will accept it from the other ; so that the doom, or final 
 adjudication, is deferred to a third day. On that Saty- 
 rane again finds none who can withstand him, and victory 
 seems to rest with him and his party : — 
 
 Ne was there knight that ever thought of arms, 
 But that his utmost prowess there made knowen : 
 That, by their many wounds and careless harms, 
 By shivered spears and swords all under strown, 
 By scattered shields, was easy to be shown. 
 There might ye see loose steeds at random run, 
 Whose luckless riders late were overthrown ; 
 And squires make haste to help their lords fordone: 
 But still the knights of Maidenhead the better won. 
 
 At last, however, there enters from the opposite side a 
 stranger knight, whose quaint disguise perplexes every 
 body : —
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAIRT QUEEN. 109 
 
 For all his armour was like salvage weed 
 With woody moss bedight, and all his steed 
 With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit 
 For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed 
 His word, which on his ragged shield was writ, 
 Salvagesse sans finesse, shewing secret wit. 
 
 He instantly charges the first knight that catches his 
 eve, who happens to be the stout Sir Sanglier ; and, 
 after jerking him out of his saddle at the first encounter, 
 treats a second, Sir Brianor, in the same fashion : — 
 
 Then, ere his hand he reared, he overthrew 
 Seven knights one after other as they came : 
 And, when his spear was brust, h his sword he drew, 
 The instrument of wrath, and with the same 
 Fared like a lion in his bloody game. 
 Hewing and slashing shields and helmets bright, 
 And beating down whatever nigh him came, 
 That every one gan shun his dreadful sight, 
 No less than death itself, in dangerous affright. 
 The wondering crowd name him the Salvage Knight; 
 but his true name, though few know it, is Arthegal — 
 The doughtiest knight that lived that day, and most of 
 might. 
 By evening, however, another stranger knight appears, 
 and eclipses the glory of this victorious champion ; first 
 attacking him, and sending him over his horse's tail, and 
 then disposing of Canibel, Triamond, Blandamour, and. 
 many others, who successively encounter her, in the 
 same summary way. For this is no other that Britoniart, 
 with her enchanted spear, whose force no man can bide. 
 And the Canto concludes thus : — 
 
 Like as in summer's day when raging heat 
 Doth burn the earth and boiled rivers dry, 
 That all brute beasts, forced to refrain fro meat, 
 Do hunt for shade where shrouded they may lie, 
 And, missing it. fain ' from themselves to fly ; 
 All travellers tormented are with pain : 
 A watery cloud doth overcast the sky, 
 
 h Burst. ' Desire, long.
 
 110 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 And ponreth forth a sudden shower of rain, 
 That all the wretched world recomforteth again : 
 
 So did the warlike Britomart restore 
 
 The prize to knights of Maidenhead that day, 
 
 Which else was like to have been lost, and bore 
 
 The praise of prowess from them all away. 
 
 Then shrilling trumpets loudly gan to bray, 
 
 And bade them leave their labours and long toil 
 
 To joyous feast and other gentle play, 
 
 Where beauty's prize should win tbat precious spoil : 
 
 Where I with sound of trump will also rest awhile. 
 
 Canto V. (46 stanzas). — The contest of the ladies for 
 Florirael's girdle, which forms the main incident in the 
 first part of this Canto, is founded on the same favourite 
 fiction with the story of King Arthur's drinking horn in 
 the Lai du Corn, and the Morte d' 'Arthur, or that of the 
 drinking horn in the romances of Tristan and of Per- 
 cival, the fabliau called Le Court Mantel (translated by 
 Way under the title of the Mantle Made Amiss), the 
 ballad of The Boy and the Mantle in ' Percy's lleliques,' 
 the tale of the enchanted cup in the second Canto of the 
 Orlando Furioso, and Fontaine's La Coupe Enchant ee. 
 The Canto opens with these lines ; — 
 
 It hath been through all ages ever seen, 
 
 That with the praise of arms and chivalry 
 
 The prize of beauty still hath joined been ; 
 
 And that for reason's special privity ; 
 
 For either doth on other much rely : 
 
 For he me seems most fit the fair to serve, 
 
 That can her best defend from villainy ; 
 
 And she most fit his service doth deserve, 
 
 That fairest is, and from her faith will never swerve. 
 
 The girdle of fair Florimel, the poet proceeds to state, 
 which many of the ladies were eager to win not so much 
 lor virtuous use, as for glory vain — 
 
 gave the virtue of chaste love 
 
 And wivehood true to all that it did bear ; 
 But whosoever contrary doth prove, 
 Might not the same about her middle wear 
 But it would loose or else asunder tear.
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. Ill 
 
 It is said to have been formerly the girdle of Venus, and 
 to have been greatly valued by her as long as " she used 
 to live in wively sort : y — 
 
 Her husband Vulcan whilome for her sake, 
 Wheu first he loved her with heart entire, 
 This precious ornament, they say, did make, 
 And wrought in Lemnos with unquenched fire: 
 And afterwards did for her love's first hire 
 Give it to her. 
 
 • *•••• 
 
 The same one day, when she herself disposed 
 To visit her beloved paramour, 
 The God of War, she from her middle loosed, 
 And left behind her in her secret bower 
 On Acidalian mount, where many an hour 
 She with the pleasant Graces wont to play. 
 There Florirael in her first age's flower 
 Was fostered by those Graces as they say, 
 And brought with her from thence that goodly belt 
 away. 
 
 By Florimel this belt, the name of which is the Cestus, 
 was held dear as her life ; no wonder, then, that many 
 ladies are now anxious to win it ; 
 
 For peerless she was thought that did it bear. 
 
 As soon as the feast is ended the selected judges de- 
 scend " into the Martian field " (meaning, apparently, 
 the Campus Martius). And, first, it is declared, that 
 Satyrane, Triamond, and the Knight of the Ebon Spear, 
 as Britomart is called, have been the victors in the three 
 days' fighting ; and Britomart, as the last, the chief: — 
 
 to her, therefore, 
 
 The fairest lady was adjudged for paramour. 
 
 It is now, then, to be determined which best deserves 
 to be accounted that paragon of beauty. First, Cambel 
 brings forward his Cambina; next, Triamond, his Ca- 
 nace ; after her, Paridel, his false Duessa (Blandamour 
 must have made over Duessa to Paridel, we suppose, 
 upon coming into possession of the snowy lady) ; then
 
 112 SPEXSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book IV. 
 
 Sir Ferramont, his Lucida ; and after these a hundred 
 other ladies appear ; "all which," says the poet, 
 
 whoso dare think for to enchase^ 
 
 Him needeth sure a golden pen I ween 
 
 To tell the feature of each goodly face. 
 
 For, since the day that they created been, 
 
 So many heavenly faces were not seen 
 
 Assembled in one place : ne he that thought 
 
 For Chian folk to portrait Beauty's Queen, 
 
 By view of all the fairest to him brought, 
 
 So many fair did see, as here he might have sought. 
 
 At last Britomart exhibits her Amoret, and all think that 
 she shall "surely bear the bell away," till Blandamour 
 who imagines he has " the true and very Florimel," pro- 
 duces his snowy lady, 
 
 The sight of whom once seen did all the rest dismay. 
 
 For all afore that seemed fair and bright 
 
 Now base and contemptible did appear, 
 
 Compared to her, that shone as Phcebus' light 
 
 Amongst the lesser stars in evening clear. 
 
 All that her saw with wonder ravished were, 
 
 And weened no mortal creature she should be, 
 
 But some celestial shape that flesh did bear: 
 
 Yet all were glad there Florimel to see ; 
 
 Yet thought that Florimel was not so fair as she. 
 
 As guileful goldsmith that by secret skill 
 
 With golden foil doth finely overspread 
 
 Some baser metal, which commend he will 
 
 Unto the vulgar for good gold instead, 
 
 He much more goodly gloss thereon doth shed 
 
 To hide his falsehood, that if it were true : 
 
 So hard this idol was to be aread, k 
 
 That Florimel herself in all men's view 
 
 She seemed to pass : So forged things do fairest shew. 
 
 But, when by universal assent it is agreed that she shall 
 have the girdle, and it is brought to be put about her 
 waist, by no management can it be made to fit her: as 
 soon as it is fastened it loosens itself and drops oft", " as 
 feeling secret blame." Of the very much astonished 
 
 ' Set out. k Understood, seen through.
 
 Canto V.] THE F A IKY QUEEJT. 1 13 
 
 spectators each has his own thoughts on the subject; she 
 herself thinks it is done in spite : — 
 
 Then many other ladies likewise tried 
 
 About their tender loins to knit the same ; 
 
 But it would not on none of them abide, 
 
 But, when they thought it fast, eftsoons it was untied. 
 
 Which when that scornful Squire of Dames did view, 
 
 He loudly gan to laugh, and thus to jest ; 
 
 " Alas for pity that so fair a crew, 
 
 As like cannot be seen from east to west, 
 
 Cannot find one this girdle to invest ! 
 
 Fie on the man that did it first invent, 
 
 To shame us all with this ungirt nulled ! 
 
 Let never lady to his love assent, 
 
 That hath this day so many so unmanly shent." ' 
 
 At this "all knights gan laugh, and ladies lour;" 
 till at last the gentle Amoret conies forward to prove the 
 power of the girdle, and having put it round her finds it 
 fit " withouten breach or let." Florimel, however, still 
 urges her claim, and, although on a further trial the belt 
 proves in her hands as unmanageable as before, it is 
 nevertheless adjudged to her, and she herself is assigned 
 to the Knight of the Ebon Spear. But Britomart will 
 not so lightly forego her Amoret for this strange dame. 
 Upon this it is decided by the judges that the Salvage 
 Kniiiht (or Arthegal), as having been the second best of 
 the combatants, shall have her ; but he is found to havt 
 already gone away " in great displeasure that he could 
 not get her." She is then offered to Triamond ; but he 
 loves Canace, "and other none." So at last she is ad- 
 judged to Satyrane. But Blandamour, Paridel, and a 
 crowd of other knights, stirred up by Ate, will by no 
 means submit to this arrangement ; among the rest Brag- 
 gadoccio puts in his claim, calling upon the lady herself 
 to testify to his right ; and she on being questioned con- 
 fesses that all he affirms is true. 
 
 Thereat exceeding wroth was Satyrane ; 
 And wroth with Satyrane was Blaudaniour ; 
 
 1 Disgraced. 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 114 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 And wroth with Blandamour was Erivane; 
 And at them both Sir Paridel did lour. 
 
 Satyrane, considerably perplexed, and feeling that 
 "sweet is alone the love that comes with willingness," 
 proposes that the fair lady shall be set in the midst of them, 
 and allowed to choose for herself. They all accordingly 
 encircle her, gazing, wishing, vowing, praying, and calling 
 upon the Queen of Beauty, or Venus, for her aid ; when, 
 after looking long at each, as if she wished she could 
 please them all, she at last walks up to Braggadoccio. 
 Frantic with mortification and rage, the others are some 
 of them for taking her from him by main force, some 
 for making him maintain his right in fair fight to the fair 
 lady. He little minds their angry words, but yet deems 
 it prudent to make off with his prize during the night. 
 The rest then set out after him — and in that pursuit the 
 story for the present leaves them. 
 
 Britomart, however, taking with her the lovely 
 Amoret, proceeds upon her own proper adventure, the 
 quest of her Arthegal — 
 
 Unlucky maid, to seek her enemy ! 
 Unlucky maid, to seek him far and wide, 
 Whom, wheu he was unto herself most nigh, 
 She through his late disguisement could him not de- 
 scry ! 
 
 Meanwhile Amoret's lover, Scudamore, has been tra- 
 velling on, enduring all the pangs of jealousy and un- 
 satisfied thirst of revenge — feelings which will not be 
 allayed by all that his companion, old Glauce, can say 
 or do. It is now nightfall, and the aspect of the heavens 
 portends the coming on of a fearful storm, when not far 
 off they spy a little cottage, " like some poor man's nest." 
 
 Under a steep hill's side it placed was, 
 
 There where the mouldered earth had caved™ the bank ; 
 
 And fast beside a little brook did pass 
 
 Of muddy water, that like puddle stank, 
 
 By which few crooked sallows grew in rank : 
 
 m Hollowed out.
 
 Canto V.] THE I'AIRT QUEEH. 115 
 
 Whereto approaching nigh, they heard the sound 
 Of many iron hammers beating rank,.. 
 And answering their weary turns around, 
 That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in that desert 
 ground." 
 
 There entering in, they found the goodman self 
 
 Full busily unto his workybent; 
 
 Who was to weet P a wretched wearish •) elf, 
 
 With hollow eyes and rawbone cheeks forspent/ 
 
 As if he bad in prison long been pent : 
 
 Full black and grisly did his face appear, 
 
 Besmeared with smoke that nigh his eye-sight blent ;   
 
 With rugged beard, and hoary shagged hair, 
 
 The which he never wont to comb or comely shear. 
 
 Rude was his garment, and to rags all rent ; 
 
 Ne better had he, ne for better cared : 
 
 With blistered bands amongst the cinders brent, 
 
 And fingers filthy with long nails impaired, 
 
 Right fit to rend the fo,.d on which he fared. 
 
 His name was Care ; a blacksmith by his trade, 
 
 That neither day nor night from working spared, 
 
 But to small purpose iron wedges made ; 
 
 Those be unquiet thoughts that careful minds invade. 
 
 In which his work he had six servants prest,' 
 
 About the anvil standing evermore 
 
 With huge great hammers, that did never rest 
 
 Front heaping strokes which thereon soused u bore : 
 
 All six strong grooms, but one than other more • 
 
 For by degrees they all were disagreed; 
 
 So likewise did the hammers which they bore 
 
 Like bells in greatness orderly succeed, 
 
 That he, which was the last, the first did far exceed. 
 
 He like a monstrous giant seemed in sight, 
 Far passing Bronteus or Pyracmon great, 
 
 B Fiercely. 
 
   " Seem-ed " in two syllables ; and " blacksmith," with the 
 accent on the last. 
 
 P Was visibly— manifestly (to wit). i Worn out. 
 
 * Completely spent. 8 Confounded. 
 
 1 Ready at Hand. u Fell down with force.
 
 1 1 6 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 The 'which in Lipari do day and night 
 
 Frame thunderbolts for Jove's avengeful threat. 
 
 So dreadfully he did the anvil beat, 
 
 That seemed to dust he shortly would it drive : 
 
 So huge his hammer, and so fierce his heat, 
 
 That seemed a rock of diamond it could rive 
 
 And rend asunder quite, if he thereto list strive. 
 
 Sir Scudamore there entering much admired 
 The manner of their work and weary pain : 
 And, having long beheld, at last inquired 
 The cause and end thereof; but all in vain ; 
 For they for nought would from their work refrain, 
 Ne let his speeches come unto their ear. 
 And eke the breathfttl bellows blew amain, 
 Like to the northern wind, that none could hear : 
 Those Pensiveness did move ; and Sighs the bellows 
 were. 
 
 Seeing 1 all this, the warrior attempts no more speech, but 
 lays him down to rest in his armour on the floor ; and so 
 does " that old aged dame, his faithful squire." Gentle 
 sleep, however, will not come to close his heavy eyes ; 
 he tosses from side to side, and often ; in Ids mental fever, 
 rises and lies down again ; 
 
 And evermore, when he to sleep did think, 
 The hammers' sound his senses did molest ; 
 And evermore, when he began to wink, 
 The bellows' noise disturbed his quiet rest, 
 Ne suffered sleep to settle in his breast. 
 And all the night the dogs did bark and howl 
 About the house, at scent of stranger guest : 
 And now the crowing cock, and now the owl 
 Loud shrieking, him afflicted to the very soul. 
 
 And, if he at any time chances to drop asleep for a mo- 
 ment, presently one of the villains raps him upon his 
 headpiece with his iron mall. At last, however, com- 
 pletely worn out he sinks into a repose, from which even 
 all this commotion and torment cannot awaken him. But 
 then the one master-thought that fills his heart — the 
 thought of the disloyalty of Amoret and Britomart — 
 assails his idle brain in the form of a dream.
 
 Canto VI.] THE TAIRY QUEEN. 117 
 
 With that the wicked carle, the maister smith, 
 
 A pair of red-hot iron tongs did take 
 
 Out of the burning cinders, and therewith 
 
 Under his side him nipt ; that, forced to wake, 
 
 He felt his heart for very pain to quake, 
 
 And started up avenged for to be 
 
 On him the which his quiet slumber brake : 
 
 Yet, looking round about him, none could see; 
 
 Yet did the smart remain, though he himself did flee. 
 
 In this disquiet and wretchedness he passes all the night 
 — ; ' that too long night" — till morning comes, when lie 
 rises " like heavy lump of lead," and, climbing his lofty 
 steed, pursues his journey, accompanied by Glauce, as 
 before. 
 
 Canto VI. (47 stanzas). — The story is thus resumed : 
 
 What equal torment to the grief of mind 
 
 And pining anguish hid in gentle heart, 
 
 That inly feeds itself with thoughts unkind, 
 
 And nourisheth her own consuming smart ! 
 
 What medicine can any leech's art 
 
 Yield such a sore, that doth her grievance hide, 
 
 And will to none her malady impart ! 
 
 Such was the wound that Scudamore did gride ; v 
 
 For which Dan Phcebus self cannot a salve provide. 
 
 Riding on with Glauce in great dejection of mind, Sir 
 Scudamore suddenly perceives close by a forest an armed 
 knight " sitting in shade beside his grazing steed," who 
 at their approach eagerly advances towards them with a 
 threatening demeanour, to which Scudamore is not slow 
 to respond ; but, as soon as the stranger observes the arms 
 of his opponent, he lowers his spear, much to the surprise 
 of the other addresses him by name, and entreats his par- 
 don, which Scudamore readily accords, at the same time 
 requesting to know the name of a stranger who has shown 
 himself so well acquainted with his. This information 
 his new acquaintance begs to be excused from giving him 
 for the present, but desires that he may be called, as he 
 is by others, the Salvage Knight. It is, in fact, Sir 
 Arthegal, or Artegal, as, for some unapparent reason, 
 
 » Pierce.
 
 ] ] 8 SPENSER AND HTS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 the name is henceforward spelled. Sir Scudamore then 
 asks him if he dwells in the forest ; to which the other 
 replies that he is waiting to take vengeance, whenever 
 he shall pass that way, on a stranger knight from whom 
 he has suffered shame and dishonour : — 
 
 " Shame be his meed," quoth he, " that meaneth shame ! 
 
 But what is he by whom ye shamed were ? " 
 
 "A stranger knight," said he. "unknown by name, 
 
 But knowu by fame, and by an ebon spear 
 
 With which he all that met him down did bear. 
 
 He, in an open tournay lately held, 
 
 Fro me the honour of that game did rear ; 
 
 And, having me, all weary erst, down felled, 
 
 The fairest lady reft, and ever since withheld." 
 
 When Scudamore hears of the ebon spear, he knows 
 right well who it is, and his anger and jealousy are 
 immediately roused by the recollection of the supposed 
 wrongs that he has received at the hands of Britomart, 
 whose apparently treacherous conduct he recounts to the 
 Salvage Knight, and offers to join him in chastising their 
 common enemy when an opportunity shall otter. 
 
 So both to wreak their wraths on Britomart agree. 
 
 While they are thus talking, the subject of their dis- 
 course appears, " soft riding towards them," 
 
 Attired in foreign arms and strange array. 
 
 Scudamore entreats that he may be the first to take his 
 revenge, as his injury is of earlier date than that of his 
 companion. His request is granted, and he proceeds 
 with great fierceness to attack " the noble maid," who 
 on her part readily addresses herself to welcome him ; 
 
 But entertained him in so rude a wise, 
 
 That to the ground she smote both horse and man ; 
 
 "Whence neither greatly hastud to arise, 
 
 But on their common harms together did devise. 
 
 At this mischance of Scudamore, Artegal, with his 
 former rage still farther inflamed, " eft aventuring," that 
 is, quickly advancing, his steel-headed lance, rides 
 against the victor, but, to his no small amazement, is
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 1 1 9 
 
 also himself unhorsed in an instant. Lightly starting up, 
 however, he attacks his adversary with his sword so 
 furiously that, mounted as she is, she is compelled to 
 give ground ; and presently, as she is wheeling round 
 to avoid his blows, one of them, after glancing down her 
 back, falls on her horse, and quite chining, or dividing, 
 the unfortunate beast behind the saddle, compels her to 
 alight : — 
 
 Like as the lightning brond from riven sky, 
 Thrown out by angry Jove in his vengeance, 
 With dreadful force falls on some steeple high : 
 Which battering down, it on the church doth glance, 
 And tears it all with terrible mischance. 
 Yet, she no whit dismayed, her steed forsook ; 
 And, casting from her that enchanted lance, 
 Unto her sword and shield her soon betook ; 
 And therewithal at him right furiously she strook. 
 
 The vehemence of her first attack is irresistible, and 
 Artecal is forced to fall back, while his blood flows forth 
 through his rent and riven armour; but, as soon as he 
 perceives her heat to be a little abated, he rises in his 
 strength and assails her afresh ; 
 
 Heaping huge strokes as thick as shower of hail, 
 And lashing dreadfully at every part, 
 As if he thought her soul to disentrail."" 
 Ah ! cruel hand, and thrice more cruel heart, 
 That work'st such wreck on her to whom thou dearest 
 art! 
 
 As they continue the fight, Artegal recovers the strength 
 he has" lost from his wounds, while that of Britomart 
 rather decreases : — 
 
 At last his luckless hand he heaved on high, 
 
 Having his forces all in one accrewed," 
 
 And therewith strook at her so hideously. 
 
 That seemed nought but death mote be her destiny. 
 
 The wicked stroke upon her helmet chanced, 
 And with the force which in itself it bore 
 
 w Draw or drive out. x United.
 
 120 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Her veniail y shared away, and thenceforth glanced 
 Adown in vain, ne harmed her any more. 
 With that her angel's face, unseen afore, 
 Like to the ruddy morn appeared in sight, 
 Dewed with silver drops through sweating sore ; 
 But somewhat redder than beseemed aright, 
 Through toilsome heat and labour of her weary fight i 
 
 And round about the same her yellow hair, 
 
 Having through stirring loosed their wonted band, 
 
 Like to a golden border did appear, 
 
 Framed in goldsmith's forge with cunning hand: 
 
 Yet goldsmith's cunning could not understand 
 
 To frame such subtile wire, so shiny clear ; 
 
 For it did glister like the golden sand 
 
 The which Pactolus with his waters sheer z 
 
 Throws forth upon the rivage a round about him near. 
 
 The hand of Artegal is again upraised, but down falis 
 the sword to ground " out of his fingers slack," — 
 
   as if the steel had sense, 
 
 And felt some ruth, or sense his hand did lack, — 
 
 at the view of that overpowering beauty ; 
 
 And he himself, long gazing thereupon, 
 At last fell humbly down upon his knee, 
 And of his wonder made religion, 
 Weening some heavenly goddess he did see, 
 Or else unweeting what it else might be. 
 
 All subdued he beseeches her pardon for the outrage he 
 had done her ; but the bold Britoness, not in the least 
 softened by his adoration, the remembrance of that last 
 stroke rankling in her mind, still stands over him, and, 
 sternly looking down on him, bills him rise and resume 
 the fight or receive instant death at her hand. She 
 speaks in vain ; he continues on his knee, and entreats 
 her to pardon him or punish him as she pleases. By 
 this time Scudamore has recovered his senses ; and he 
 too, looking on " that peerless pattern of Dame Nature's 
 pride," is at first struck with terror, and then, his fear 
 
 y Fore part of the helmet. z Clear. a Shore.
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 121 
 
 converted to faint devotion, thinks it is a divinity that he 
 sees. Glauce now, seeing how matters stand, entreats 
 her mistress to grant the two warriors " truce awhile ;" 
 Britomart consents ; and then the knights raise their 
 beavers, and she for the first time sees their countenances. 
 As soon as she beholds "the lovely face of Artegal, 
 tempered with sterness and stout majesty," she is startled 
 and appalled by perceiving it to be the same that she had 
 seen long since in the enchanted glass. Her uplifted 
 hand drops down, and, ever as she attempts to raise it 
 anew, all strength to hold the sword leaves it as soon as 
 her eye again meets that manly visage ; nor will even 
 her tongue obey her as she strives still to appear enraged, 
 but brings forth speeches mild instead of angry words. 
 Meanwile Scudamore, inwardly rejoicing at having found 
 how false and groundless was all his jealous fear, ad- 
 dresses the submissive knight: — 
 
 " Certes, Sir Artegal, 
 
 I joy to see you lout b so low on ground, 
 And now become to live a lady's thrall, 
 That whilome in your mind wont to despise them all." 
 
 Poor Britomart does not hear that name, giving her full 
 assurance that she has found him she" has "so long 
 sought, without various violent and conflicting emotions" 
 though she still continues to feign her former angry 
 mocd, — 
 
 Thinking to hide the depth by troubling of the flood. 
 Glauce now addresses the three. First, she reminds 
 both Artegal and Scudamore, that they may now lay 
 aside all the fears that had troubled them so much, lest 
 Britomart should " woo away" their loves. Then she 
 exhorts Artegal not henceforth to make it matter of 
 regret or self-reproach that he has a second time been 
 conquered by a woman's hand ;— " for," says she, 
 — " whilome they have conquered sea and land, 
 And heaven itself, that nought may them withstand:" 
 : ' Ne," she adds, 
 
 b Stoop, bow.
 
 122 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
   "henceforth be rebellious unto love, 
 
 That is the crown of knighthood, and the band 
 
 Of noble minds derived from above, 
 
 Which, being knit with virtue, never will remove." 
 
 Britomart she recommends to repress somewhat of her 
 wrathful spirit, the fire of which, she tells her, " were 
 better turned to other flame," and to lend a favourable 
 ear to her lover, only, however, on condition that he 
 fulfil the penance she shall lay upon him — 
 
 " For lovers' heaven must pass by sorrow's hell." 
 
 " Thereat," we are told, 
 
 full inly blushed Britomart; 
 
 But Artegal, close-smiling, joyed in secret heart. 
 
 Dui'in<r all this while Seudamore is longing to hear 
 news of his Amoret ; and he now begs Britomart (whom, 
 however, somewhat oddly, he still addresses by the title 
 Sir) to give him the desired information. It would 
 appear that, after releasing her from the hands of the 
 enchanter, Britomart had taken every care of her, pre- 
 serving her "from peril and from fear" with all pos- 
 sible tenderness and affection ; till one day as they were 
 travelling through a desert, being both weary, they 
 alighted and sate down to rest, when Britomart, having 
 fallen asleep, found on awaking her companion gone; 
 nor were all her subsequent efforts to obtain tidings of 
 her of any avail. Seudamore is overwhelmed with grief 
 and deadly fear at this account ; but after a while is 
 somewhat re-assured by Britomart kindly vowing " by 
 heaven's light" never to leave him till they shall have 
 found his lady love, and avenged themselves on her 
 reaver. Every thing being thus arranged, they take 
 their steeds, and set forward to a resting place to which 
 Artegal undertakes to conduct them ; 
 
 Where goodly solace was unto them made, 
 And daily feasting both in bower and hall, 
 Until that they their wounds well healed had, 
 And weary limbs recured after late usage bad.
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 123 
 
 In all this time Sir Artogal, too, wo are told, was making 
 way "unto the love of noble Britomart ;" and that, not- 
 withstanding the pains she took " with womanish art" to 
 conceal the impression he had made on her heart, 
 
 So well he wooed her, and so well he wrought her, 
 
 With fair entreaty and sweet blandishment, 
 
 That at the length unto a bay c he brought her, 
 
 So as she to his speeches was content 
 
 To lend an ear, and softly to relent. 
 
 At last, through many vows which forth he poured 
 
 And many oaths, she yielded her consent 
 
 To be his love, and take him for her lord, 
 
 Till they with marriage meet might finish that accord. 
 
 But at last, after they have rested here for a long while, 
 Artegal, to the great grief of Britomart, finds it necessary 
 to depart in order to proceed upon an adventure in which 
 he had been engaged when they met. It is with much 
 difficulty that he obtains her permission to go ; but on 
 his pledging his faith to her by a " thousand vows from 
 bottom of his heart," and promising to return to her as 
 soon as he shall have achieved his object, for which he 
 only demands three months, she yields her consent. 
 
 So, early on the morrow next, he went 
 
 Forth on his way to which he was ybent ; 
 
 Ne wight him to attend, or way to guide, 
 
 As whilome was the custom ancient 
 
 Mongst knights when on adventures they did ride ; 
 
 Save that she algates d him a while accompanied. 
 
 And by the way she sundry purpose found 
 Of this or that, the time for to delay, 
 And of the perils whereto he was bound, 
 The fear whereof seemed much her to affray: 
 But all she did was but to wear out day. 
 Full oftentimes she leave of him did take ; 
 And eft again devised somewhat to say, 
 Which she forgot, whereby excuse to make : 
 So loth she was his company for to forsake. 
 
 c Stand. d Nevertheless.
 
 1 24 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 However, at last, when all her speeches are spent, she 
 leaves him to himself; and, returning to Seudamore, 
 sets out with him in quest of Amoret — " her second 
 care, though in another kind." They go back to the 
 forest where she had disappeared, and seek her there 
 and every where, without success. But, concludes the 
 Canto, 
 
 by what hapless fate 
 
 Or hard misfortune she was thence conveyed, 
 And stolen away from her beloved mate. 
 Were long to tell : therefore I here will stay 
 Until another tide, that I it finish may. 
 
 Canto VII. (47 stanzas).—" Great God of Love," 
 exclaims the poet in now proceeding with the story .tf 
 Amoret, 
 
 Great God of Love, that with thy cruel darts 
 
 Dost conquer greatest conquerors on ground, 
 
 And set'st thy kingdom in the captive hearts 
 
 Of kings and kesars to thy service bound ; 
 
 What glory or what guerdon hast thou found 
 
 In feeble ladies tyranning so sore, 
 
 And adding anguish to the bitter wound 
 
 With which their lives thou lanehed'st'* long afore, 
 
 By heaping storms of trouble on them daily more ? 
 
 It seems that, when Britomart fell asleep, Amoret had 
 amused herself by taking a walk through the wood, and in 
 the course of her ramble had been suddenly fallen upon 
 and snatched up by a personage who is thus engagingly 
 painted : — - 
 
 It was to weet a wild and salvage man ; 
 
 Yet was no man, but only like in shape, 
 
 And eke in stature higher hy a span ; 
 
 All overgrown with hair, that could awhape f 
 
 An hardy heart; and his wide mouth did gape 
 
 With huge great teeth, like to a tusked boar : 
 
 For he lived all on ravin and on rape 
 
 Of men and beasts ; and fed on fleshly gore, 
 
 The sign whereof yet stained his bloody lips afore. 
 
 Pierced'st. f Terrify.
 
 Can o VII. j THE FAIRY QUEEN. 125 
 
 His nether lip was not like man nor beast, 
 
 But like a wide deep poke down hanging low, 
 
 In which he wont the relics of his feast 
 
 And cruel spoil, which he had spared, to stow : 
 
 And over it his huge great nose did grow, 
 
 Full dreadfully empurpled all with blood ; 
 
 And down both sides two wide long ears did glow, 
 
 And raughts down to his waste when up he stood, 
 
 More great than the ears of elephants by Indus' flood. 
 
 His waist was with a wreath of ivy green 
 Engirt about, ne other garment wore; 
 For all his hair was like a garment seen ; 
 And in his hand a tall young oak he bore, 
 Whose knotty snags were sharpened all afore, 
 And beathed '' in fire for steel to be in stead. 
 But whence he was, or of what womb ybore, 
 Of beasts, or of the earth, I have not read ; 
 But certes was with milk of wolves and tigers fed. 
 
 The hideous monster rushed away with her through the 
 briars and bushes to his cave, and there throwing her in 
 left her more dead than alive. When she came to her- 
 self she heard in the darkness some one sighing and 
 sobbing near her; this was one of her own sex, another 
 of the wretch's victims, who had been already twenty 
 days in the cavern, and in that time had seen "seven 
 women by him slain and eaten clean," that being his 
 regular mode of finishing his atrocities as soon as his 
 amorous fit was over. Only she and an old woman, 
 besides Amoret, remained; "and of us three," said she, 
 " to-morrow he will sure eat one." She then told her 
 own story. The daughter of a great lord, she had loved 
 a squire of low degree — who yet was fit, if her eyes did 
 not deceive her, " by any lady's side for leman to have 
 lain." Having resolved for his sake to abandon sire, 
 and friends, and all for ever, she one day left iier home 
 to meet him at a place they had agreed upon between 
 them, and wa? caught by this " shame of men and plague 
 of woman-kind, ' who, said she, 
 
 a Reached. h Heated.
 
 126 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 " trussing me, as eagle doth his prey, 
 
 Me hither brought with him as swift as wind ; 
 Where yet untouched till this present day, 
 I rest his wretched thrall, the sad iEmilia." 
 
 While they are discoursing the villain himself returns to 
 the cave. Horrified at his proceedings, Amoret soon 
 breaks away in desperation, and (taking advantage, ap- 
 parently, of his having neglected to replace the stone 
 which closed the entrance) rushes forth screaming, while 
 he runs after her. 
 
 Full fast she flies, and far afore him goes 
 
 Ne feels the thorns and thickets prick her tender toes. 
 
 Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale she stays, 1 
 But over-leaps them all, like roebuck light, 
 And through the thickest makes her nighest ways ; 
 And evermore, when with regardful sight 
 She looking back espies the grisly wight 
 Approaching nigh, she gins to mend her pace, 
 And makes bet fear a spur to haste her flight ; 
 More swift than Myrrh' or Daphne in her race, 
 Or any of the Thracian Nymphs in salvage chase. 
 
 It must be supposed that this is the same forest in which 
 Florimel was seen flying from the foster in the First 
 Canto of the preceding Book, and in which Timias, the 
 prince's gentle squire, was found in the Fifth Canto of 
 that Book by Belphoebe and conveyed by her to her 
 pavilion. It chances that that lady is at this very time, 
 as is her wont, hunting here the leopards and the bears 
 with her sister wood-nymphs and " that lovely boy ;" 
 and it is the fortune of Timias to come up just as the 
 cursed caitiff has again caught Amoret, and, grinning 
 in self-gratulation, is bearing her off under his arm. For 
 some time he wards off the squire's blows by using the 
 captive lady as a buckler ; 
 
 And if it chanced (as needs it must in fight), 
 Whilst he on him was greedy to be wroke, J 
 
 1 Stops for. 
 * While Timias was eager to be avenged on him.
 
 Canto V1I.I THE FAIRY QUEEN. 127 
 
 That any little blow on her did light, 
 
 Then would he laugh aloud, and gather great delight. 
 
 At last, however, Timias succeeds in thrusting his spear 
 through the villain's hand ; on which 
 
 A stream of coal-black blood thence gushed amain, 
 That all her silken garments did with blood bestain ; 
 
 and, throwing his burthen on the earth, he falls upon 
 the squire with such a storm of blows that the latter is 
 compelled to give ground. Luckily the noise attracts 
 Belphoebe, 
 
 Whom when that thief approaching nigh espied 
 
 With bow in hand and arrows ready bent, 
 
 He by his former combat would not bide, 
 
 But fled away with ghastly dreariment, 
 
 Well knowing her to be his death's sole instrument. 
 
 She, however, pursues, "with winged feet, as nimble as 
 the wind," and with such success that, just as he is enter- 
 ing his hellish den, 
 
 She sent an arrow forth with mighty draught, 
 
 That in the very door him overcaught, 
 
 And, in his nape arriving, through it thrilled : 
 
 His greedy throat therewith in two distraught, 
 
 That all his vital spirits thereby spilled, 
 
 And all his hairy breast with gory blood was filled. 
 
 Whom when on ground she grovelling saw to roll, 
 
 She ran in haste his life to have bereft; 
 
 But, ere she could him reach, the sinful soul, 
 
 Having his carrion corse quite senseless left, 
 
 Was fled to hell, surcharged with spoil and theft : 
 
 Yet over him she there long gazing stood, 
 
 And eft admired his monstrous shape, and eft 
 
 His mighty limbs, whilst all with filthy blood 
 
 The place there over-flown seemed like a sudden flood. 
 
 Thenceforth she passed into his dreadful den, 
 Where nought but darksome dreariness she found, 
 Ne creature saw, but barkened now and then 
 Some little whispering, and soft-groaning sound. 
 With that she asked, what ghosts there under ground
 
 128 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Lay hid in horror of eternal night ; 
 
 And bade them, if so be they were not bound, 
 
 To come and show themselves before the light, 
 
 Now freed from fear and danger of that dismal wight. 
 
 On this iEmilia comes forth, all trembling, and after her 
 the hag, her fellow prisoner, afoul and loathsome wretch 
 — " Ionian fit for such a lover dear." They all three 
 then return together to the place where she had left 
 Tiinias with Amoret: — 
 
 There she him found by that new lovely mate, 
 Who lay the whiles in swoon, full sadly set. 
 From her fair eyes wiping the dewy wet 
 Which softly stilled, and kissing them atween, 
 And handling soft the hurts which she did get: 
 For of that carle she sorely bruised had been ; 
 Als k of his own rash hand one wound was to be seen. 
 
 Which when she saw with sudden glancing eye, 
 
 Her noble heart, with sight thereof, was filled 
 
 With deep disdain and great indignity, 
 
 That in her wrath she thought them both have thrilled 
 
 With that self arrow which the carle had killed : 
 
 Yet held her wrathful hand from vengeance sore : 
 
 But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld, 
 
 " Is this the faith ?" she said — and said no more, 
 
 But turned her face, and lied away for evermore. 
 
 He, seeing her depart, arose up light, 
 
 Right sore aggrieved at her sharp reproof, 
 
 And followed fast: but, when he came in sight, 
 
 He durst not nigh approach, but kept aloof, 
 
 For dread of her displeasure's utmost proof: 
 
 And evermore, when he did grace entreat, 
 
 And framed speeches fit for his behoof, 
 
 Her mortal arrows she at him did threat, 
 
 And forced him back with foul dishonour to retreat. 
 
 At last, when long he followed had in vain, 
 Yet found no ease of grief nor hope of grace, 
 Unto those woods he turned back again, 
 Full of sad anguish and in heavy case : 
 
 k Also.
 
 Canto VII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN'. 129 
 
 And, finding there fit solitary place 
 For woful wight, chose out a gloomy glade, 
 Where hardly eye mote see bright heaven's face 
 For mossy trees, -which covered all with shade 
 And sad melancholy ; there he his cabin made. 
 
 His wonted warlike weapons all he broke 
 And threw away, with vow to use no more, 
 Ne thenceforth ever strike in battle stroke, 
 Ne ever word to speak to woman more ; 
 But in that wilderness, of men forlore' 
 And of the wicked world forgotten quite, 
 His hard mishap in dolour to deplore. 
 And waste his wretched days in woful plight: 
 So on himself to wreak his folly's own despite. 
 
 And eke his garment, to be thereto meet. 
 
 He wilfully did cut and shape anew ; 
 
 And his fair locks, that wont with ointment sweet 
 
 To be embalmed, and sweat out dainty dew, 
 
 He let to grow and grisly to concrew, m 
 
 Uncombed, uncurled, and carelessly unshed ; 
 
 That in short time his face they overgrew, 
 
 And over all his shoulders did dispread, 
 
 That who he whilome was uneath Q was to be read. 
 
 There he continued in his careful plight, 
 
 Wretchedly wearing out his youthly years, 
 
 Through wilful penury consumed quite, 
 
 That like a pined ghost he soon appears : 
 
 For other food than that wild forest bears, 
 
 Ne other drink there did he ever taste 
 
 Than running water tempered with his tears, 
 
 The more his weakened body so to waste : 
 
 That out of all men's knowledge he was worn at last 
 
 In this very remarkable passage there can be no doubt 
 that the real incident alluded to is Raleigh's amour with 
 Elizabeth Throgmorton, one of Elizabeth's maids of 
 honour, by which he is understood to have drawn down 
 upon himself for a time the passionate displeasure of his 
 royal mistress. The circumstance appears to have hap- 
 pened in the year 1592, and Raleigh afterwards made all 
 
 i Forsaken. ™ Grow together. n Scarcely 
 
 VOL. If. K
 
 ]C0 SPKNSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 the reparation in his power by marrying the lady. The 
 reader will admire not only the ingenuity of the allegory, 
 but the singular combination which it presents of boldness 
 in the conception and the highest delicacy in the execu- 
 tion. 
 
 The story goes on to relate, that one day Prince Arthur, 
 seeking adventures, chanced to come to the cabin in 
 which Timias thus abode, "spending his days in dolour 
 and despair," and never suspected who he was. When 
 the prince addressed him, and expressed pity for his 
 miserable state, 
 
 — to his speech he answered no whit, 
 
 But stood still mute, as if he had been dumb, 
 
 Ne sign of sense did show, ne common wit, 
 
 As one with grief and anguish overcome ; 
 
 And unto everything did answer mum : 
 
 And ever, when the prince unto him spake, 
 
 He louted lowly, as did him become, 
 
 And humble homage did unto him make ; 
 
 Midst sorrow showing joyous semblance for his sake. 
 
 Greatly wondering, the prince yet was led to think he 
 had in former days been conversant with arms and knight- 
 liness, both by secret signs of a gentler nature which were 
 discernible even through all that rudeness of demeanour, 
 and by observing him handle his naked sword and try its 
 edge; 
 
 And eke by that lie saw on every tree 
 
 How he the name of one engraven had 
 
 Which likely was his liefest love to be, 
 
 From whom he now so sorely was bestad ; ° 
 
 Which was by him Belpheobe rightly rad:P 
 
 Yet who was that Belphuebe he ne wist; 
 
 Yet saw he often how he wexed glad 
 
 When he it heard, and how the ground he kist 
 
 Wherein it written was, and how himself he blist. 
 
 Nothing that Arthur can do, however, is of any avail to 
 soothe his dejection and wretchedness ; and he at last 
 leaves him, for time, which alone can, to work his re- 
 storation. 
 
 Distressingly removed ? P Read.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 131 
 
 Canto VIII. (64 stanzas). — It is well said by the wise 
 man that the displeasure of the mighty is more dread and 
 desperate than death itself; 
 
 Like as it fell to this unhappy boy. 
 
 Whose tender heart the fair Belphoebe had 
 
 With one stem look so daunted, that no joy 
 
 In all his life, which afterwards he lad,' 1 
 
 He ever tasted ; but with penance sad 
 
 And pensive sorrow pined and wore away, 
 
 Ne ever laughed, ne once showed countenance glad, 
 
 But always wept and wailed night and day, 
 
 As blasted bloosm through heat doth languish and decay. 
 
 The first thing that awakens him from his settled me- 
 lancholy is the song of a turtle dove, who, having her- 
 self lately lost her love, takes pity on him, and tunes 
 her notes to a lamentable lay, 
 
 So sensibly r compiled that in the same 
 
 Him seemed oft he heard his own right name. 
 
 The gentle bird daily repairs without fear to his dwel- 
 ling, to comfort him with her sympathizing melody ; 
 
 And every day, for guerdon of her song, 
 He part of his small feast to her would share; 
 That, at the last, of all his woe and wrong 
 Companion she became, and so continued long. 
 
 One day as she is sitting by his side he brings forth 
 some memorials, or relics, he still retains of Belphoebe's 
 former kindness— among the rest a ruby shaped like a 
 bleeding heart, w ith a gold chain attached to it : and 
 this he takes, and with a riband, in which are his lady's 
 colours, hangs it about the turtle's neck ; when lo ! 
 
 All unawares the bird, when she did find 
 Herself so decked, her nimble wings displayed, 
 And tlew away as lightly as the wind. 
 
 Timias grieves that he should so lightly have lost both 
 his jewel and "the dear companion of his care;" but 
 " that sweet bird " has only gone off to carry the token 
 
 i Led. r Feelingly.
 
 132 SPEJiSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 to where wons his fair Belphoebe. She finds the lady- 
 resting herself after the fatigues of the chase in a shady- 
 arbour, and, alighting on the ground before her, begins 
 to sing her customary mournful song. At length Bel- 
 phoebe perceives the well-known jewel, and instantly 
 puts forward her hand to seize it ; — 
 
 But the swift bird obeyed not her behest, 
 But swerved aside, ami there again did stay; 
 She followed her, and thought again it to essay. 
 
 And ever, when she nigh approached, the dove 
 Would flit a little forward, and then stay 
 Till she drew near, and then again remove : 
 So tempting her still to pursue the prey, 
 And still from her escaping soft away: 
 Till that at length into that forest wide 
 She drew her far, and led with slow delay: 
 In the end she her unto that place did guide 
 Whereas that woful man in languor did abide. 
 
 The dove flies to the hand of Titnias; Belphoebe does 
 not recognize him ; but he, as soon as he beholds her, 
 falls down at her feet am! kisses the ground on which 
 she treads, and washes it with his gushing tears. Won- 
 dering at his behaviour, she addresses him, exhorting 
 him to rouse himself from the grief and lethargy that 
 seem to oppress him. Then for the first time he breaks 
 his long silence, and tells her that it is she herself that 
 has reduced him to the state in which he is, and that 
 she alone can restore him to the light. His words of 
 sorrow move her mighty heart to pity and mild regard ; 
 and the end is that he is restored to his former favour, 
 and long leads a happy life as before, fearless of chance 
 or change, and mindless even of his own dear lord the 
 noble prince, who hears nothing of what has become 
 of him, but wanders through the endless world seeking 
 him evermore in vain. At last one day, riding through 
 that wood, the prince there finds iEmilia and Amoret, 
 who are represented as being still both " in full sad 
 and sorrowful estate," the one from the effects of her 
 ill-treatment in the cave, the other from the wound she
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 133 
 
 had received at the hand of Timias while effecting her 
 rescue. Arthur, however, soon restores the latter by a 
 few drops of the precious medicinal liquor he always 
 carries about with him ; and iEmilia also recovers her 
 health. They then tell him their story ; upon hearing 
 which a strong desire seizes him to discover the warlike 
 virgin by whom they had been delivered. He can, 
 however, learn nothing more of her from the ladies ; and 
 therefore he lifts them from the ground (" no service 
 loathsome to a gentle kind"), and, placing them both 
 together on his horse, sets out with them, walking him- 
 self on foot by their side. It will be observed that 
 nothing has been said of how iEmilia and Amoret have 
 disposed of themselves since Belphoebe and Timias left 
 them, which must have been a goodly while since, seeing 
 how r much had happened to Timias in the interval ; and 
 the expression used here — " he them from ground did 
 rear" — might almost seem to imply that they had re- 
 mained ever since sitting on the ground. Tins must be 
 admitted to be carrying the shadowy and mysterious, or 
 the complexity and perplexity which with Spenser 
 seems to be part and parcel of his poetical system, suffi- 
 ciently far. The matter, however, does not give any 
 trouble to his dozing editors. The prince and the two 
 ladies, after getting out of the forest, come at nightfall to 
 a little cottage ; entering which, they find only an old 
 woman, raggedly attired, sitting upon the ground ; her 
 hair is all in disorder, and she gnaws her nails " for 
 fellness and for ire," sucking venom thence for her heart 
 and mind : — 
 
 A foul and loathly creature sure in sight, 
 
 And in conditions to be loathed no less : 
 
 For she was stuffed with rancour and despite 
 
 Up to the throat, that oft with bitterness 
 
 It forth would break and gush in great excess, 
 
 Pouring out streams of poison and of gall 
 
 Gainst all that truth or virtue do profess; 
 
 Whom she with leasings s lewdly did miscall 
 
 And wickedly backbite ; her name men Slander call. 
 
 s Lius.
 
 134 SPENSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book IV. 
 
 Her nature is, all goodness to abuse, 
 
 And causeless crimes continually to frame, 
 
 With which she guiltless persons may accuse, 
 
 And steal away ttie crowu of their good name : 
 
 Ne ever knight so bold, ne ever dame 
 
 So chaste and loyal lived, but she would strive 
 
 With forged cause them falsely to defame ; 
 
 Ne ever thing so well was done alive, 
 
 But she with blame would blot, and of due praise deprive. 
 
 Her words were not, as common words are, meaut 
 
 To express the meaning of the inward mind, 
 
 But noisome breath, and poisonous spirit sent 
 
 From inward parts, with cankered malice lined, 
 
 And breathed forth with blast of bitter wind ; 
 
 Which, passing through the ears, would pierce the heart, 
 
 And wound the soul itself with grief unkind : 
 
 For, like the sting of asps that kill with smart, 
 
 Her spiteful words did prick and wound the inner part. 
 
 Little meet to host such guests is a hag like this — albeit 
 one * ; whom," says the poet, as if with a bitterness in- 
 spired by some personal injury, " greatest princes' courts 
 would welcome lain ;" — but necessity leaves no choice ; 
 and, besides, that age despised vain luxury, and was 
 enured to hardness and to homely fare. They there- 
 fore do not complain of having to spend the evening in 
 cold and hunger, but only that the hair scolds and rails at 
 them for so taking up their lodging without her consent. 
 Nor do the two ladies take any harm or run any danger in 
 thus spending the hours with this noble knight ; that 
 antique age, yet in the infancy of time, lived in sim- 
 plicity ami in blameless innocence ; 
 
 The lion there did with the lamb consort, 
 And eke the dove sate by the falcon's side ; 
 Ne each of other feared fraud or tort, 1 
 But did in safe security abide : 
 
 but when the world grew old, it grew worse — whence, 
 says our poet (adopting or proposing a very whimsical 
 etymology), it lias its name, quasi war-old (or worse- 
 old). Then fair grew foul, and foul grew fair; then 
 
 1 Wrong.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 135 
 
 beauty, originally designed to represent a bright re- 
 semblance of the great Creator, became only the bait or 
 provocative of passion : — 
 
 And that, which wont to vanquish God and man, 
 Was made the vassal of the victor's might ; 
 Then did her glorious flower wex dead and wan. 
 Despised and trodden down of all that overran : 
 
 And now it is so utterly decayed, 
 
 That any bud thereof doth scarce remain, 
 
 But if few plants, preserved through heavenly aid, 
 
 In prince's court do hap to sprout again, 
 
 Dewed with her drops of bounty sovereign, 
 
 Which from that goodly glorious flower proceed, 
 
 Sprung of the ancient stock of prince's strain, 
 
 Now the only remnant of that royal breed, 
 
 Whose noble kind at first was sure of heavenly seed. 
 
 As soon as it is day the " gentle crew " — that is the 
 prince and the two ladies — set out again as before, he 
 on foot, they mounted together on his horse ; but when 
 they leave the hag follows them, reviling them with the 
 worst names and imputations, so that his noble heart is 
 stung with vexation, and the two ladies are covered with 
 shame. Even when they are out of sight, and when 
 there are none to hear her hateful words, she continues 
 to send her barkings and back bi tings after them : — 
 
 Like as a cur doth felly bite and tear 
 The stone, which passed stranger at him threw ; 
 So she, them seeing past the reach of ear, 
 Against the stones and trees did rail anew, 
 Till she had dulled the sting which in her tongue's end 
 grew. 
 
 They meanwhile pass on, though rather slowly, till 
 they perceive galloping towards them a squire bearing 
 before him on his steed a dwarf, who all the way cries 
 aloud for help, 
 
 That seemed his shrieks would rend the brazen sky ; 
 
 while after them rides in hot pursuit on a dromedary, 
 venting a torrent of threats and curses, a man of huge
 
 ] 36 SPENSFR AND HIS POETRY. [Bool; IV. 
 
 stature, and of the most astounding: aspect ; for from his 
 eyes proceed two fiery heams, sharper than points of 
 needles, that, like the glance of the basilisk, are deadly 
 poison to all who incautiously look upon him, and slay 
 his enemies before they are aware. At the loud call of 
 the squire, the prince, lifting the ladies down, quickly 
 mounts his steed ; but their foe is upon them, and has 
 struck both squire and dwarf to the earth, by a blow 
 aimed at Arthur, which he wards off with his shield, 
 almost before " the royal child " has had time to draw 
 his sword. A dreadful battle ensues: the Pagan, swear- 
 ing by Mahound that he will have his adversary's life, 
 smites at him with his murderous mace so as " that 
 seemed nought the souse thereof could bear ;" but, with 
 his usual activity and dexterity in such cases, the prince 
 so manages that, notwithstanding, 
 
 ere he wist, he found 
 
 His head before him tumbling on the ground; 
 The whiles his babbling tongue did yet blaspheme 
 And curse his god that did linn so confound ; 
 The whiles his life ran forth in bloody stream, 
 His soul descended down into the Stygian ream." 
 
 At this issue, however, although the squire rejoices, the 
 dwarf manifests only sorrow and distress, howling aloud 
 at seeing his lord lie slain, and rending his hair and 
 scratching his face in his misery. 
 
 Then gan the prince at leisure to inquire 
 
 Of all the accident there happened plain, 
 
 And what he was whose eyes did rlame with fire : 
 
 All which was thus to him declared by that squire. 
 
 He informs him that the mighty man he has slain was 
 the son of a giantess, and had conquered many great 
 kingdoms and nations, not, however, in war, or by " hosts 
 of men with banners broad displayed ;" 
 
 But by the power of his infectious sight, 
 
 With which he killed all that came within his might. 
 
   Realm.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 137 
 
 Never had he found man so strong but he had thus borne 
 him down, nor woman so fair that he did not bring her 
 to bay ; for his chief desire was to make spoil of strength 
 and beauty, and waste them away to nought, by casting 
 secretly into their hearts and inward parts flakes of the 
 fire of licentious passion from those false eyes. " There- 
 fore," continues the squire, 
 
 — . Cortlambo was he called aright, 
 
 Though nameless there his body now doth lie ; 
 
 Yet hath he left one daughter that is hight 
 
 The fair Pseana : who seems outwardly 
 
 So fair as ever yet saw living eye ; 
 
 And, were her virtue like her beauty bright, 
 
 She were as fair as any under sky : 
 
 But ah ! she given is to vain delight, 
 
 And eke too loose of life, and eke of love too light. 
 
 He then proceeds to relate that he had a friend, a gentle 
 squire of inferior degree, named Amias, who loved and 
 was beloved by a lady of high parentage, the fair ZEmilia. 
 They had agreed to meet (as we have already heard 
 from iEmilia herself) at a certain spot; but on his way 
 (as she had fallen into the hands of the brutal savage 
 of the cavern) the squire was caught by Corflambo, 
 and carried away to his dungeon, where he still remains 
 " of all unsuccoured and unsought." There, however, 
 he was one day seen by Paeana, and no sooner seen than 
 loved. In the hope of thereby regaining his liberty, 
 notwithstanding his engagement and firm attachment to 
 iEmilia, he granted a cold profession of affection to the 
 giant's daughter ; yet she still detains him. She allows 
 him, however, so much liberty as to walk about her 
 gardens of delight with a keeper, who is the dwarf now 
 present, " her darling base," and the trusted minister to 
 whom she has consigned the whole custody and control 
 of all her captives. Meanwhile tidings of the captivity 
 of Amias came to the ears of his friend, whose name is 
 Placidas ; upon which the latter contrived to find his 
 way to him, and for some time concealed himself in the 
 gardens, till he was one day seen by the dwarf, who, 
 however, mistook him for Amias, to whom he bore the
 
 138 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 closest resemblance, and thereupon informed his mistress 
 that her captive was in the habit of stealing secretly out 
 of his prison. The consequence was that Placidas, who, 
 being brought before Parana, was by her too taken for 
 Amias, was committed to the same dungeon in which 
 his friend lay. But Amias professed to be only made 
 more miserable by the circumstance of his friend having 
 lost his liberty as well as himself; " for," says Placidas, 
 
 — " all his joy, he said, in that distress 
 
 Was mine and his ^Emilia's liberty. 
 
 ./Emilia well he loved, as I mote guess; 
 
 Yet greater love to me than her he did profess." 
 
 At length, however, he agreed to allow Placidas to 
 follow out his scheme. So the following day, when 
 Amias was sent for by Pteana, Placidas went to her in his 
 stead, and was very well received. Excusing his former 
 rudeness, and promising a different behaviour in future, 
 he soon induced her to let him have more liberty, and to 
 command the dwarf to allow him a larger range in the 
 gardens. " So," said he, 
 
 — " on a day, as by the flowery marge 
 
 Of a fresh stream I with that elf did play, 
 
 Finding no means how I might us enlarge, 
 
 But if that dwarf I could with me convey, 
 
 I lightly snatched him up and with me bore away." 
 
 And thus Placidas finishes his narrative, merely adding 
 that the shrieks of the dwarf brought out Corflambo ; 
 but he was not for that to be disseised of his " gotten 
 prey." 
 
 The ladies now come up, and JEmilia immediately 
 recognizes her lover's friend. Having first ascertained 
 from him that Amias lives, she afterwards listens with 
 deep emotion to a repetition of all that he has just told 
 Prince Arthur : — 
 
 Then, after many tears and sorrows spent, 
 
 She dear besought the prince of remedy : 
 
 Who thereto did with ready will consent, 
 
 And well performed ; as shall appear by his event. v 
 
 T The fortune or issue he met with.
 
 Oanlo IX.j THE FAIRY QUEEN. 139 
 
 Canto IX. (41 stanzas). — In this Canto we are to see 
 proved by example how much stronger is friendship than 
 either love or natural affection, although at the same 
 time it will appear that of those two last the former has 
 most power over the heart : — 
 
 For, though Parana were as fair as morn, 
 Yet did this trusty squire with proud disdain 
 For his friend's sake her offered favours scorn, 
 And she herself her sire of whom she was yborn. 
 
 The stratagem that Prince Arthur adopts for getting 
 into the castle of the slain tyrant, where Amias is de- 
 tained, is to take Corflambo's dead body, and, having 
 again imprest, or fastened, the head to it, to set it on his 
 dromedary, with Placidas laid before it, as if he had 
 been taken captive ; and then to force the dwarf to lead 
 the beast along. When they come to the gate it is im- 
 mediately opened without any suspicion by the warder, 
 and Arthur enters. Here he finds the fair Parana in her 
 delicious bower, playing on a rote (by which Spenser 
 must here be supposed to mean a kind of harp, what- 
 ever ground there may be for Ritson's assertion that the 
 instrument, taking its name from the Latin word for a 
 wheel, was really nothing else than what we now call a 
 hurdy-gurdy). She is 
 
 Complaining of her cruel paramour, 
 And singing all her sorrow to the note ; 
 
 and that so sweetly, that 
 
 The prince half wrapped began on her to dote ; 
 
 Till, better him bethinking of the right, 
 
 He her unawares attached, and captive held by might. 
 
 At first she calls to her father for aid, but she soon per- 
 ceives the state to which he is reduced : — 
 
 Then gan she loudly cry, and weep, and wail, 
 And that same squire of treason to upbraid : 
 But all in vain ; her plaints might not prevail ; 
 Ne none there was to rescue her, ne none to bail. 
 
 The prince then compels the dwarf to open the door of
 
 140 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 the prison, and above a score of knights and squires are 
 released from bondage. Among the rest Amias is 
 brought forth ; he is weak and wan, and not like him- 
 self; but, as soon as they see him, iEmilia and Placidas 
 both run up, and, clasping him in their arms, kiss him 
 again and again, so that Paeana not only envies them, 
 but falls " bitterly to ban," in her jealousy and rage. 
 It would appear from this that iEmilia, and of course 
 Amoret also, had either been sent for by the prince after 
 he had gotten possession of the castle, or had entered 
 along with him, although the poet has forgotten to say so. 
 After regarding the two squires, however, a little longer, 
 as they stand embracing one another, Parana begins to 
 doubt which of them is the one she so dearly loves — 
 
 For they so like in person did appear, 
 
 That she uneatli w discerned whether whether were. 
 
 The Prince, too, and all the other knights and squires 
 are equally amazed at their perfect resemblance. 
 
 A vast store of hoarded treasure is found in the 
 castle : — 
 
 Upon all which the Briton prince made seizure ; 
 
 And afterwards continued there awhile 
 
 To rest himself, and solnce in soft pleasure 
 
 Those weaker ladies after weary toil; 
 
 To whom he did divide part of his purchased spoil. 
 
 For more joy, he even grants her liberty to " that captive 
 lady fair, the fair Pteana," and sets her " in sumptuous 
 chair, to feast and frolic " with the rest ; but she never- 
 theless will show no gladsome countenance, grieving for 
 the loss both of her sire and of her " land and fee," but 
 most of all for loss of her love, the handsome squire 
 (though whether she has yet made up her mind which 
 of the two young men it. is that she has been attached to, 
 and would like to retain, we are not informed). The 
 Prince, however, takes great pains to mollify her both 
 by " good thewes," or courtesy of manner, and kind 
 speeches : — 
 
 w Scarcely.
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 141 
 
 And, for to shut up all in friendly love, 
 
 Sith love was first the ground of all her grief, 
 
 That trusty squire he wisely well did move 
 
 Not to despise that dame which loved him lief, x 
 
 Till he had made of her some better prief ; y 
 
 But to accept her to his wedded wife : 
 
 Thereto he offered for to make him chief 
 
 Of all her land and lordship during life : 
 
 He yielded, and her took ; so stinted all their strife. 
 
 From that day, it is added, they lived together long in 
 peace and joy ; and the fair Paeana, whose beauty, un- 
 surpassed by that of any other lady of her time, had 
 formerly been stained by such irregularities, 
 
 . . thenceforth reformed her ways, 
 
 That all men much admired her change, and spake her 
 praise. 
 
 It maybe presumed that, Placidas being thus provided 
 for, Amias and iEmilia were also united ; but all that is 
 said is, that the Prince " perfectly compiled (that is, 
 brought together) these pairs of friends in peace and 
 settled rest";" and then, turning to his proper quest,* 
 set out again, taking only Amoret with him. Poor 
 Amoret, who has gone through so many dangers, does 
 not find herself left alone and helpless " in the victor's 
 power, like vassal bond," without some natural feelings 
 of shame and fear ; but she has no ground for any appre- 
 hension with so honourable a protector as Arthur : — 
 
 all the while he by his side her bore, 
 
 She was as safe as in a sanctuary ; 
 
 and so they ride together for many miles, she hoping to find 
 her love, he his, and not showing " their heart's privity" 
 to one another. At length they come upon six knights, 
 all, as appears, in a state of gnat excitement, and fight- 
 ing with one another, but four of them engaged with 
 especial activity and fury. These are four of the knights 
 
 * Dearly. y Proof. 
 
 * This must be the word, although it is printed " guest " 
 in all the editions.
 
 142 SPEXSEK AND HIS POETKY. [Book IV. 
 
 from whose competition, as related in the Fifth Canto, 
 the false Florimel had been won and carried off by 
 Braggadoccio — namely, our old acquaintances Blanda- 
 mour and Paridel, and two others, the stern Druon and 
 the lewd Claribel. The other two are Britomart and 
 Scudamore, wliom, it may be remembered, we left setting 
 out together in quest of Amoret at the end of the Sixth 
 Canto ; they have only just come up, and are standing 
 aside, wondering at the confused contention of the rest, 
 who, spurred on by Ate and Duessa, were waging this 
 wild and doubtful strife " for love of that same snowy 
 maid." And 
 
 sometimes Paridel and Blandamour 
 
 The better had, and bet z the others back ; 
 Et'tsoons a the others did the field recoure, b 
 And on their foes did work full cruel wrack: 
 Yet neither would their fiend-like fury slack, 
 But evermore their malice did augment ; 
 Till that uneath c they forced were, for lack 
 Of breath, their raging rigour to relent, 
 And rest themselves for to recover spirits spent. 
 
 Then* gan they change their sides, and new parts take j 
 
 For Paridel did take to Druou's side, 
 
 For old despite which now forth newly brake 
 
 Gainst Blandamour whom always he envied : 
 
 And Blandamour to Claribel relied : d 
 
 So all afresh gan former fight renew. 
 
 As when two barks, this carried with the tide, 
 
 That with the wind, contrary courses sue, e 
 
 If wind and tide do change, their courses change anew. 
 
 Thenceforth they much more furiously gan fare, 
 As if but then the battle had begun ; 
 Ne helmets bright, ne hauberks strong did spare, 
 That through the clefts the vermeil blood outspun, 
 
 1 Beat. a Presently. 
 
 b Recover. c With difficulty. 
 
 '' Joined himself. e Pursue. 
 
 * In the original edition " their," which the modern 
 editors have altered into " there."
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 143 
 
 And all adown their riven sides did run. 
 
 Such mortal malice wonder was to see 
 
 In friends professed, and so great outrage done : 
 
 But sooth is said, and tried in each degree, 
 
 Faint friends when they full out most cruel foe men be. 
 
 But soon, perceiving Scudamore and Britomart, ami re- 
 membering how they had been discomfited by the latter 
 at the recent tournay, they all turn upon these two : — 
 
 Who wondering much at that so sudden fit, 
 
 Yet nought dismayed, them stoutly well withstood ; 
 
 Ne yielded foot, ne once aback did flit, 
 
 But, being doubly smitten, likewise doubly smit. 
 
 The warlike dame was on her part assaid f 
 Of Claribel and Blandamour atone ; z 
 And Paridel and Druon fiercely laid 
 At Scudamore, both his professed fone : h 
 Four charged two, and two surcharged one ; 
 Yet did those two themselves so bravely bear, 
 That the other little gained by the loan, 
 But with their own repayed duly were, 
 And usury withall : such gain was gotten dear. 
 
 It is in vain that Britomart again and again tries to bring 
 them to parley ; they will no more stop for a moment to 
 listen to her than will an eager mastiff be called off by 
 words fi om the gored beast" whose blood he has once 
 tasted. Arthur, however, indignant to see the unequal 
 match, now strikes in ; he, too, after he has compelled 
 them somewhat to give way, endeavours to pacify them 
 with mild speeches; but, when this kind attempt pro- 
 duces no effect, he is not long in compelling them by 
 force to crave respite and mercy. They then accuse 
 Britomart of having both despoiled them of their public 
 praise and beguiled them of their private loves ; she 
 easily shows the absurdity of these charges ; and the 
 Prince declares his judgment that they are much in the 
 wrong. Then Britomart speaks again : — 
 
 f Attacked (essayed, or perhaps assailed). 
 ? At once. b Foes.
 
 144 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 " And jet," quoth she, " a greater -wrong remains : 
 
 For I thereby my former love have lost ; 
 
 Whom seeking ever since with endless pains 
 
 Hath me much sorrow and much travel cost ; 
 
 Aye me, to see that gentle maid so tossed ! " 
 
 But Scudamore then sighing deep thus said ; 
 
 " Certes her loss ought me to sorrow most, 
 
 "Whose right she is, wherever she be strayed, 
 
 Through many perils won, and many fortunes weighed :" 
 
 and so forth. This is not quite intelligible. For Brito- 
 mart had not, as she here states, lost Amoret through 
 anything that the four knights had done : she had lost 
 her, as we have seen, after the tournament was over and 
 she and they had parted and left the place in different 
 directions. It is strange, too. that Amoret should remain 
 all this while unnoticed by either Britomart or Scuda- 
 more, and that she herself should not ere now have re- 
 cognized both the one and the other. If she had retired 
 to a distance, or been left behind by Arthur (which it is 
 not said that she did or was) when he threw himself into 
 the fray, it would seem to be natural that she should 
 now be brought forward when the fighting is all over. 
 And what makes the case the more puzzling is, that, 
 as we shall find, she is spoken of in the beginning 
 of the next Canto as if she never had been absent. We 
 think with L T pton that something is clearly wanting, and 
 that probably the poet intended to introduce here, after 
 the speech of Scudamore. with some few necessary 
 alterations, the stanzas which originally stood at the end 
 of the Third Book describing the happy meeting between 
 him and Amoret. As it is, no mention is made of 
 Amoret in this place; but. a general harmony having 
 now been established, and the whole party having agreed 
 to pursue their journey together, Scudamore is besought 
 by Sir Claribel (now characterized by the epithet 
 " good ") to favour them, as they ride along, with a 
 recital of the adventure he had undertaken for his fair 
 lady's love : ami all the rest joining in the request, 
 Britomart especially urging it with earnest importunity, 
 Scudamore consents to comply, as he does in the next 
 Canto.
 
 Canto X.] THE 1'AIRY QUEi:y. 145 
 
 On the whole, this short Canto has the air of having 
 been hastily composed merely to cany forward the narra- 
 tive and connect what precedes with what follows, and 
 neither to have been worked up with the poet's custom- 
 ary elaboration, nor even to have received his last cor- 
 rections. The carelessness with which it would seem to 
 have been thrown off and dismissed appears even in the 
 usual metrical summary with which it is headed, where 
 we are told that 
 
 The Squire of Low Degree, released, 
 Parana takes to wife ; — 
 
 whereas it is, indeed, the Squire of Low Degree, Amias, 
 who is released, but his friend Placidas, the Trusty 
 Squire, who marries Paeana. The inferiority of this 
 Canto may have been artfully intended as a foil, the more 
 to set off the splendid writing upon which we are now 
 about to enter. 
 
 Canto X. (58 stanzas). — Sir Scudamore commences 
 his narrative as follows : — 
 
 " True he it said, whatever man it said, 
 
 That love with gall and honey doth abound ; 
 
 But, if the one be with the other weighed, 
 
 For every dram of honey therein found 
 
 A pound of gall doth over it redound : ' 
 
 That I too true by trial have approved ; 
 
 For, since the day that first with deadly wound 
 
 My heart was launched,J and learned to have loved, 
 
 I never joyed hour, but still with care was moved. 
 
 " And yet such grace is given them from above, 
 
 That all the cares and evil which they meet 
 
 May nought at all their settled minds remove, 
 
 But seem, gainst common sense, to them most sweet, 
 
 As boasting in their martyrdom unmeet : 
 
 So all that ever yet I have endured 
 
 I count as nought, and tread down under feet. 
 
 Since of my love at length I rest assured 
 
 That to disloyalty she will not be allured." 
 
 It will be a long story, he goes on to observe, to tell the 
 
 ' Compensate. J Pierced. 
 
 VOL. II. L
 
 146 SPENSER A.ND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 long toil by which he had won the Shield of Love which 
 he carries (and from which he has his name — Scutum 
 Anion's, or Scudo d'Amore) : but, since the company 
 desire it, it shall be done. "Then, hark," he adds, 
 
 "ye gentle knights and ladies free, 
 
 My hard mishaps that ye maj learn to shun ; 
 For, though sweet love to conquer glorious be, 
 Yet is the pain thereof much greater than the fee." 
 
 This address, it will be perceived, must include Amoret, 
 for she is the only lady present, besides Britomart. His 
 knowledge of her presence is still clearer from what 
 follows, where he states that from the time when the 
 report of this famous prize, namely the Shield, first flew 
 abroad, he had been possessed with the thought that he 
 was the man destined to carry it off, adding — 
 
 " And that both shield and she whom I behold 
 Might be my lucky lot, sith all by lot we hold." 
 
 So forth he proceeded on the adventure, and soon made 
 his way to " the place of peril," an ancient, beautiful, 
 and renowned temple of Venus — much more famous than 
 either that in Paphos or that in Cyprus (Spenser seems 
 to have forgotten that Paphos was merely the town in 
 the isle of Cyprus where the principal temple of Venus 
 stood), both built long subsequently, — 
 
 " Though all the pillars of the one were gilt, 
 
 And all the other's pavement were with ivory spilt." k 
 
 This temple of the goddess to which Scudamore repaired 
 stood in an island so strongly fortified by nature, that 
 there was only one passage by which access was pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wise 
 
 With curious corbs ' and pendants graven fair, 
 
 And, arched all with porches, did arise 
 
 On stately pillars framed after the Doric guise." 
 
 At the farther end was built a strong and fair castle, 
 k Inlaid. ! Corbels.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 147 
 
 in which were placed twenty valiant and experienced 
 knights. And, continues Sir Scudamore. 
 
 *&* 
 
 " Before that castle was an open plain, 
 
 And in the midst thereof a pillar placed; 
 
 On which this shield, of many sought in vain, 
 
 The shield of love, whose guerdon me hath graced, 
 
 Was hanged on high with golden ribands laced ; 
 
 And in the marble stone was written this, 
 
 With golden letters goodly well enchased ; 
 
 Blessed the man that well can use this bliss: 
 
 Whose ever be the shield, fair Amoret be his. 
 
 " Which when I read, my heart did inly earn,™ 1 
 And pant with hope of that adventure's hup : 
 Ne stayed further news thereof to learn, 
 But with my spear upon the shield did rap, 
 That all the castle ringed with the clap. 
 Straight forth issued a knight all armed to proof, 
 And bravely mounted to his most mishap: 
 Who, staying nought to question from aloof, 
 Ban fierce at me, that tire glanced from his horse's 
 hoof." 
 
 He boldly encountered this fiery champion, and soon 
 unseated him ; then two others, who sprung out upon 
 him together, met with the same fate ; in short, all the 
 twenty were left groaning on the plain ; and the victor, 
 advancing to the pillar, and reading aloud the inscription, 
 took down the shield, and bore it away with him. All 
 this is modestly told by Scudamore in a single stanza. 
 He then proceeds . — 
 
 " So forth without impediment T passed, 
 
 Till to the bridge's utter gate I came ; 
 
 The which I found sure locked ana chained fast. 
 
 I knocked, but no man answered me by name ; 
 
 I called, but no man answered to my claim : 
 
 Yet I persevered still to knock and call ; 
 
 Till at the last I spied within the same 
 
 Where one stood peeping through a crevice small, 
 
 To whom 1 called aloud, half angry therewithal! 
 
 "' Yearn.
 
 148 SPENSER AND HIS rOETKY. [Hook IV. 
 
 " That was to weet the porter of the place, 
 
 Unto whose trust the charge thereof was lent : 
 
 His name was Doubt, that had a double face. 
 
 The one forward looking, the other backward bent, 
 
 Therein resembling Janus ancient 
 
 Which hath in charge the ingate" of the year 
 
 And evermore his eyes about him went, 
 
 As if some proved peril he did fear, 
 
 Or did misdoubt some ill whose cause did not appear. 
 
 " On the one side he, on the other sat Delay, 
 Ik-hind the gate, that none her might espy ; 
 Whose manner was, all passengers to stay 
 And entertain with her occasions sly; 
 Through which some lost great hope unheedily, 
 Which never they recover might again ; 
 And others, quite excluded forth, did lie 
 Long languishing there in unpitied pain, 
 And seeking often entrance afterwards in vain." 
 
 As soon as Doubt, looking through the chink, perceived 
 the shield, he immediately knew it, opened the gate wide, 
 and, the knight having passed in, closed it again. Delay 
 now caught hold of him, trying to stay him with much 
 prating and many foolish pretences, and to steal from 
 him time, that precious treasure, whose smallest minute 
 lost no riches may restore. "But," continues Scuda- 
 more, 
 
 " by no means my way I would forslow" 
 
 For aught that ever she could do cr say ; 
 But from my lofty steed dismounting low 
 Passed forth on foot, beholding all the way 
 The goodly works, and stones of rich assay, 
 Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill, 
 That like on earth no where I reckon may ; 
 And, underneath, the river rolling still 
 With murmur soft, that seemed to serve the workman's 
 will. 
 
 " Thence forth I passed to the second gate, 
 The Gate of Good Desert, whose goodly pride 
 
 n Entrance, beginning. ° Delay.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 140 
 
 And costly frame were long here to relate : 
 
 The same to all stood always open wide ; 
 
 But in the porch did evermore abide 
 
 An hideous giant, dreadful to behold. 
 
 That stopped the entrance with his spacious stride, 
 
 And with the terror of his countenance bold 
 
 Full many did affray, that else fain enter wold : 
 
 His name was Danger, dreaded over all ; 
 
 Who day and night did watch and duly ward 
 
 From fearful cowards entrance to forestall, 
 
 And faint-heart-fools, whom show of peril hard 
 
 Could terrify from fortune's fair adward : 
 
 For oftentimes faint hearts, at first espial 
 
 Of his grim face, were from approaching scard : 
 
 Unworthy they of grace, whom one denial 
 
 Excludes from fairest hope withouten further trial. 
 
 Yet many doughty warriors, often tried 
 
 In greater perils to be stout and bold, 
 
 Durst not the sternness of his look abide ; 
 
 But, soon as they his countenance did behold, 
 
 Began to faint, and feel their courage cold. 
 
 Again, some other, that in hard assays 
 
 Were cowards known, and little count did hold. 
 
 Either through gifts, or guile, or such like ways, 
 
 Crept in by stooping low, or stealing of the kays."' p 
 
 Scudamore disdained cither to stoop to him, or to creep 
 between his legs ; but, advancing his enchanted shield, 
 began to lay about him with all his might ; on which 
 Danger immediately lowered his sword, and allowed 
 him to pass freely on. Looking back, he now perceived 
 that worse lay concealed behind the Giant than what 
 appeared in front of him ; for there lay lurking in am- 
 bush Hatred, Murder, Treason, Despite, and many more 
 such foes, ready to entrap whosoever did not protect 
 himself against them with vigilant circumspection. He 
 was now fairly within the island ; " the which," he says, 
 
 " did seem, unto my simple doom.i 
 
 The only pleasant and delightful place 
 
 P Pronounced ka ys (or as Spenser spells it, limes), as indeed 
 it commonly was down to a much later date. 
 'i Judgment.
 
 150 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 That ever trodden was of footing's trace : 
 
 For all that nature hy her mother-wit 
 
 Could frame in earth, and form of substance base, 
 
 Was there; and all that nature did omit, 
 
 Art, playing second nature's part, supplied it. 
 
 No tree, that is of count, in greenwood grows, 
 
 From lowest juniper to cedar tall ; 
 
 No flower in field, that dainty odour throws, 
 
 And decks his branch with blossoms over all, 
 
 But there was planted, or grew natural : 
 
 Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice, 
 
 But there mote find to please itself withall ; 
 
 Nor heart could wish for any quaint device, 
 
 But there it present was, and did frail sense entice. 
 
 In such luxurious plenty of all pleasure, 
 
 It seemed a second paradise, I guess, 
 
 So lavishly enriched with nature's treasure, 
 
 That, if the happy souls, which do possess 
 
 The Elysian fields and live in lasting bliss, 
 
 Should happen this with living eye to see. 
 
 They soon would loath their lesser happiness, 
 
 And wish to life returned again to he. 
 
 That in this joyous place they mote have joyanee free. 
 
 Fresh shadows, fit to shroud from sunny ray ; 
 Fair lawns, to take the sun in season due; 
 Sweet springs, in which a thousand nymphs did play ; 
 Soft-rumbling brooks, that gentle slumber drew ; 
 High-reared mounts, the lands about to view ; 
 Low-looking dales, disloined r from common gaze ; 
 Delightful bowers, to solace lovers true; 
 False labyrinths, fond runners' eyes to daze ; 
 All which by nature made did nature self amaze. 
 
 And all without were walks and alleys dight 
 With divers trees enranged in even ranks ; 
 And here and there were pleasant arbours pight, 
 And shady seats, and sundry flowering banks 
 To sit and rest the walker's weary shanks : 
 And therein thousand pairs of lovers walked, 
 Praising their god, and yielding him great thai>ks, 
 
 • Removed.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 151 
 
 Ne ever aught but of their true loves talked, 
 Ne ever for rebuke or blame of any balked." 
 
 Apart, and at a distance, from these were lovers of another 
 sort, those namely whose desires were set only on virtue 
 
 whose spirits ever aspired after noble thoughts and 
 
 valiant deeds. " Such," Scudaraore proceeds, 
 
 " were great Hercules, and Hylas dear : 
 
 True Jonathan, and David trusty tried ; 
 
 Stout Theseus, and Pirithous his fere ; s 
 
 Pylades, and Orestes by his side ; 
 
 Mild Titus, and'Gesippus without pride ; 
 
 Damon and Pythias, whom death could not sever : 
 
 All these, and all that ever had been tied 
 
 In bands of friendship, there did live for ever; 
 
 Whose lives although decayed, yet loves decayed never 
 
 Which whenas I, that never tasted bliss 
 Nor happy hour, beheld with gazeful eye, 
 I thought there was none other heaven than this ; 
 And gan their endless happiness envy, 
 That being free from fear and jealousy- 
 Might frankly there their loves' desire possess ; 
 Whilst I through pains and perilous jeopardy 
 Was forced to seek my life's dear patroness : 
 Much dearer be the things which come through lis rd 
 distress. 
 
 Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw, _ 
 Might r.ot my steps withhold but that forthright 
 Unto that purposed place I did me draw, 
 Whereas my love was lodged day and night, 
 The temple of great Venus, that is bight 
 The Queen of Beauty, and of Love the mother, 
 There worshipped of every living wight : 
 Whose goodly workmanship far passed all other 
 That ever were on earth, all were they set together. 
 
 Not that same famous temple of Diane, 
 Whose height nil Ephesus did oversee. 
 And which all Asia sought with vows profane, 
 One of the world's seven wonders said to be, 
 
 » Companion.
 
 152 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Cook IV. 
 
 Might match with this by many a degree ; 
 
 Nor that, which that wise king of Jewry framed 
 
 With endless cost to be the Almighty's see ; 
 
 Nor all, that else through all the world is named 
 
 To all the heathen gods, might like to this be claimed. 
 
 I, much admiring that so goodly frame, 
 
 Unto the porch approached, which open stood; 
 
 But therein sat an amiable dame, 
 
 That seemed to be of very sober mood, 
 
 And in her semblant ' showed great womanhood : 
 
 Strange was her tire ; for on her head a crown 
 
 She wore, much like unto a Danisk" hood, 
 
 Powdered with pearl and stone ; and all her gown 
 
 Enwoven was with gold, that raught v full low adown. 
 
 On either side of her two young men stood, 
 
 Both strongly armed, as fearing one another ; 
 
 Yet were they brethren both of half the blood, 
 
 Begotten by two fathers of one mother, 
 
 Though of contrary natures each to other : 
 
 The one of them night Love, the other Hate ; 
 
 Hate was the elder, Love the younger brother; 
 
 Yet was the younger stronger in his state 
 
 Than the elder, and him maistered still in all debate. 
 
 Nathless that dame so well them tempered both, 
 
 That she them forced hand to join in hand, 
 
 All be that Hatred was thereto full loth, 
 
 And turned his face away, as he did stand, 
 
 Unwilling to behold that lovely band : 
 
 Yet she was of such grace and virtuous might, 
 
 That her commandment he could not withstand, 
 
 But bit his lip for felonous despite, 
 
 And gnashed his iron tusks at that displeasing sigfcf* 
 
 Concord she cleeped ,v was in common reed, 
 Mother of blessed Peace and Friendship true ; 
 They both her twins, both born of heavenly seed, 
 And she herself likewise divinely grew ; 
 The which right well her works divine did shew : 
 For strength and wealth and happiness she lends, 
 And strife and war and anger does subdue ; 
 
 1 Appearance, air. " Danish. » Reached, 
 
 »■ Called.
 
 Canto X.] THE PAIST QCEEN, 153 
 
 Of little much, of foes she maketh friends. 
 
 And to afflicted minds sweet rest and quiet sends. 
 
 By her the heaven is in his course contained, 
 And all the world in state unmoved stands, 
 As their Almighty Maker first ordained, 
 And bound them with inviolable bands ; 
 Else would the waters overflow the lands. 
 And fire devour the air, and hell them quite ; 
 But that she holds them with her blessed hands. 
 She is the nurse of pleasure and delight, 
 And unto Venus' grace the gate doth open right. 
 
 By her I entering half dismayed was; 
 But she in gentle wise me entertained, 
 And twixt herself and Love did let me pass; 
 But Hatred would my entrance have restrained, 
 And with his club me threatened to have brained, 
 Had not the lady with her powerful speech 
 Him from his wicked will uneath refrained* : 
 And the other eke his malice did impeach, v 
 Till I was throughly past the peril of his 'reach. 
 
 Into the inmost temple thus I came, 
 Which fuming all with frankincense I found 
 And odours rising from the altar's flame. 
 Upon an hundred marble pillars round 
 The roof up high was reared from the ground, 
 All decked with crowns, and chains, and girlands gay, 
 And thousand precious gifts worth many a pound, 
 The which sad lovers for their vows did pay ; 
 And all the ground was strewed with flower's as fresh 
 as May. 
 
 An hundred altars round about were set, 
 
 All flaming with their sacrifices' fire, 
 
 That with the steam thereof the temple sweat, 
 
 Which rolled in clouds to heaven did aspire, 
 
 And in them bore true lovers' vows entire : 
 
 And eke an hundred brazen caldrons bright 
 
 To bathe in joy and amorous desire, 
 
 Every of which was to a damsel hight ; 
 
 For all the priests were damsels in soft' linen dight 
 
 i With some difficulty kept back. y Hinder.
 
 154 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Right in the midst the goddess self did stand 
 
 Upon an altar of some costly mass, 
 
 Whose substance was uneatli 2 to understand : 
 
 For neither precious stone, nor dureful brass, 
 
 Nor shinning gold, nor mouldering clay it was ; 
 
 But much more rare and precious to esteem, 
 
 Pure in aspect, and like to crystal glass ; 
 
 Yet glass was not, if one did rightly deem ; 
 
 But, being fair and brickie," likest glass did seem. 
 
 But it in shape and beauty did excel 
 All oilier idols which the heath'n adore, 
 Far passing that, which by surpassing skill 
 Phidias did make in Paphos' isle of yore, 
 With which that wretched Greek, that life forlore, b 
 Did fall in love : yet this much fairer slimed, 
 But covered with a slender veil afore : 
 And both her feet and legs together twined 
 Were with a snake, whose head and tail were fast com- 
 bined. 
 
 The cause why she was covered with a veil 
 Was hard to know, for that her priests the same 
 From people's knowledge laboured to conceal : 
 But sooth it was not sure for womanish shame, 
 Nor any blemish, which the work mote blame ; 
 But for (they say) she hath both kinds in one, 
 Both male and female, both under one name : 
 She sire and mother is herself alone, 
 Begets and eke conceives, ne needeth other none. 
 
 And all about her neck and shoulders flew 
 A flock of little loves, and sports, and joys, 
 With nimble wings of gold and purple hue; 
 Whose shapes seemed not like to terrestrial boys, 
 But like to angels playing heavenly toys ; 
 The whilst their eldest brother was away, 
 Cupid their eldest brother : he enjoys 
 The wide kingdom of love with lordly sway. 
 And to his law compels all creatures to obey. 
 
 And all about her altar scattered lay 
 Great sorts of lovers piteously complaining, 
 
 z Difficult.   Brittle. b Forsook. 
 
 « Flocks.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 155 
 
 Some of their loss, some of their love's delay, 
 
 Some of their pride, some paragons' disdaining, 
 
 Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently feigning, 
 
 As every one had cause of good or ill. 
 
 Amongst the rest some one, through love's constraining 
 
 Tormented sore, could not contain it still, 
 
 But thus brake forth, that all the temple it did fill." 
 
 The hymn or prayer to Venus that follows is a free 
 translation of the exquisitely beautiful invocation with 
 which Lucretius opens his great poem : — 
 
 " ' Great Venus ! Queen of Beauty and of Grace, 
 The joy of gods and men, that under sky 
 Dost' fairest shine, and most adorn thy place ; 
 That with thy smiling look dost pacify 
 The raging seas, and mak'st the storms to fly; 
 Thee, goddess, thee the winds, the clouds do fear; 
 And, when thou spread'st thy mantle forth ou high, 
 The waters play, and pleasant lands appear, 
 And heavens laugh, and all the world shows joyous 
 cheer. 
 
 Then doth the da?da! d earth throw forth to thee 
 
 Out of her fruitful lap abundant flowers ; 
 
 And then all living wights, soon as they see 
 
 The spring break forth out of his lusty bowers, 
 
 They all do learn to play the paramours: 
 
 First do the merry birds, thy pretty pages, 
 
 Privily pricked with thy lustful powers, 
 
 Chirp loud to thee out of their leafy cages, 
 
 And thee, their mother, call to cool their kiudly rages. 
 
 Then do the salvage beasts begin to play 
 Their pleasant frisks, and loath their wonted food : 
 The lions roar ; the tigers loudly bray ; 
 The raging bulls rebellow through the wood, 
 And breaking forth dare tempt the deepest flood 
 To come where thou dost draw them with desire. 
 • ••••• 
 
 So all the world by thee at first was made, 
 And daily yet thou dost the same repair : 
 
 a Productive. It is the original Latin word.
 
 156 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad, 
 Ne ought on earth that lovely is and fair, 
 But thou the same for pleasure didst prepare : 
 Thou art the root of all that joyous is : 
 Great god of men and women, queen of the air, 
 Mother of laughter, and well-spring of bliss, 
 
 grant that of my love at last I may not miss !' " 
 
 Sir Scudamore goes on, in lines too bright and musical 
 for one of them to be spared : — 
 
 " So did he say : but I with murmur soft, 
 
 That none might hear the sorrow of my heart, 
 Yet inly groaning deep and sighing oft, 
 Besought her to grant ease unto my smart, 
 And to my wound her gracious help impart. 
 Whilst thus I spake, behold ! with happy eye 
 
 1 spied where at the idol's feet apart 
 A bevy of fair damsels close did lie. 
 
 Waiting whenas the anthem should be sung on high. 
 
 The first of them did seem of riper years 
 
 And graver countenance than all the rest : 
 
 Yet all the rest were eke her equal peers, 
 
 Yet unto her obeyed as the best : 
 
 Her name was Womanhood : that she expressed 
 
 By her sad semblant and demeanour wise ; 
 
 For steadfast still her eyes did fixed rest, 
 
 Ne roved at random, after gazers' guise, 
 
 Whose luring baits oftimes do heedless hearts entise. 
 
 And next to her sate goodly Shamefacedness, 
 Ne ever durst her eyes from ground uprear, 
 Ne ever once did look up from her dess, e 
 As if some blame of evil she did fear, 
 That in her cheeks made roses oft appear : 
 And her against sweet Cheerfulness was placed, 
 Whose eyes, like twinkling stars in evening clear, 
 Were decked with smiles that all sad humours chased, 
 And darted forth delights the which her goodly graced. 
 
 And next to her sate sober Modesty, 
 Holding her hand upon her gentle heart ; 
 
 Seat.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 
 
 157 
 
 And her against sate comely Courtesy, 
 
 That unto every person knew her part ; 
 
 And her before was seated overthwart 
 
 Soft Silence, and submiss Obedience, 
 
 Both linked together never to dispart ; 
 
 Both gifts of God not gotten but from thence ; 
 
 Both girlands of his saints against their foes' offence. 
 
 Thus sate they all around in seemly rate' : 
 
 And in the midst of them a goodly Maid 
 
 (Even in the lap of Womanhood) there sate, 
 
 The which was all in lily-white arrayed, 
 
 With silver streams amongst the linen strayed; 
 
 Like to the Morn, when first her shining face 
 
 Hath to the gloomy world itself bewrayed : 
 
 That same was fairest Amoret in place. 
 
 Shining with beauty's light and heavenly virtue's grace. 
 
 Whom soon as 1 beheld, my heart gan throb 
 
 And weighed in doubt what best were to be done: 
 
 For sacrilege me seemed the church to rob : 
 
 And folly seemed to leave the thing undone, 
 
 Which with so strong attempt I had begun. 
 
 Tho, shaking oft' all doubt and shamefaced fear, 
 
 Which lady's love I heard had never won 
 
 Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped near, 
 
 And by the lily hand her laboured up to rear." 
 
 Upon this, Womanhood sharply rebuked him for being 
 overbold in presuming to lay hands upon a virgin dedi- 
 cated to the service of Venus. Scudamore replied in a 
 few honest words, and at the same time disclosed his 
 shield, which he had kept hidden ever since he entered 
 the temple ; at the sight on which, of Cupid emblazoned 
 with his bow and shafts, the matron, awed, said no 
 more. Meantime the knight all the while had kept hold 
 of the fair virgin's hand, resolved for no entreaty to 
 " forego so glorious spoil ;" having his eye also ever- 
 more fixed upon die face of the goddess, " whom," he 
 says, 
 
 " when I saw with amiable grace 
 
 To laugh on me, and favour my pretence, 
 I was emboldened with more confidence ; 
 
 ' Manner, arrangement.
 
 158 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 And, nought for niceness nor for envy sparing, 
 In presence of them all forth led her thence, 
 All looking on, and like astonished staring, 
 Yet to lay hand on her not one of all them daring. 
 
 She often prayed, and often me hesought, 
 Sometime with tender tears, to let her go, 
 Sometime with witching smiles : hut yet, for nought 
 That ever she to me could say or do, 
 Could she her wished freedom fro me woo; 
 But forth I led her through the temple gate, 
 By which I hardly passed with much ado : 
 But that same lady? which me friended late 
 In entrance, did me also friend in my retrate. 
 
 No less did Danger threaten me with dread, 
 Whenas he saw me, maugre all his power, 
 That glorious spoil of Beauty with me lead, 
 Than Cerberus, when Orpheus did recoure h 
 His leman from the Stygian prince's bower. 
 But evermore my shield did me defend 
 Against the storm of every dreadful stour: 
 Thus safely with my love I thence did wend." 
 
 " And so," says the poet, " ended he his tale, where I 
 this Canto end." 
 
 Canto XI. (53 stanzas). — We must also give nearly 
 the whole of this Canto, one of the most conspicuous in 
 the poem. It sets out thus : — 
 
 But ah ! for pity that I have thus long 
 
 Left a fair lady languishing in pain ! 
 
 Now well away ! that I have done such wrong, 
 
 To let fair Florimel in hands remain, 
 
 Tn bands of love, and in sad thraldom's chain; 
 
 From which unless some heavenly power her free 
 
 By miracle, not yet appearing plain, 
 
 She lenger yet is like captived to be; 
 
 That even to think thereof it inly pities me. 
 
 Florimel, it may be remembered, was left, in the 
 Eighth Canto of the preceding Book, in the hands of the 
 sea-god Proteus, who, we were there told, alter all his 
 
 s Concord. b Recover.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 159 
 
 attempts to win her favour had failed, at last threw her 
 into a dungeon and threatened to keep her there in 
 eternal durance. 
 
 Deep in the bottom of an huge great rock 
 
 The dungeon was, in which her bound he left, 
 
 That neither iron bars, nor brazen lock, 
 
 Did need to guard from force or secret theft 
 
 Of all her lovers which would her have reft : 
 
 For walled it was with waves, which raged and roared 
 
 As they the cliff in pieces would have cleft ; 
 
 Besides, ten thousand monsters foul abhorred 
 
 Did wait about it, gaping grisly, all begored.' 
 
 And in the midst thereof did Horror dwell, 
 
 And Darkness dread that never viewed day, 
 
 Like to the baleful house of lowest hell, 
 
 In which old Styx her aged bones alway 
 
 (Old Styx the grandame of the gods) doth lay. 
 
 There did this luckless maid seven months abide, 
 
 Ne ever evening saw, ne morning's ray, 
 
 Ne ever from the day the night descried, 
 
 But thought it all one night, that did no hours divide. 
 
 And all this was for the love of Marinel — of Marine!, 
 by whom she and all other women were despised. Mean- 
 while, however, he still lay languishing of the wound 
 inflicted by a woman's hand, as related in the Fourth 
 Canto of the last Book ; and nothing that the nymph his 
 mother can do to cure him is of any avail, till at last she 
 hies for help to Tryphon, the sea-gods" surgeon, to whom 
 she carries a whistle, curiously wrought of a fish's shell, 
 for fee. If, therefore, we would have the poet to be 
 perfectly consistent throughout the whole extent of his 
 long performance, we must suppose that the message 
 which we were before told she sent in haste for Tryphon 
 to come to her, as soon as her son was brought home, 
 had not been attended to by that "sovereign leech." 
 But we shall take a truer view if we are contented to 
 allow that he may be chargeable with a lapse of memory 
 in regard to so minute a matter. Now, at any rate, 
 
 ' Besmeared with gore.
 
 160 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Tryphon, hearkening to the nymph's request, applied 
 his skill with such assiduity and success that Marine! was 
 soon restored to health. His mother's maternal fears, 
 nevertheless, long retained him in her ocean bower, very 
 much against his will. At length it happened that all 
 the deities of the sea and their offspring were assembled 
 at a solemn feast held in the house of Proteus in honour 
 of the marriage of the Thames and the Medway, that is, 
 of the god of the former river with the goddess or nymph 
 of the latter, whom, after long wooing, he had at last 
 prevailed upon to consent to share his bed. The famous 
 episode thus introduced, the commentators assume to be 
 the same poem which Spenser speaks of in the year 
 1580 as already written by him on this subject. But 
 that poem, entitled Epithalamion Thamesis, was, as we 
 have seen, a specimen of what was called " English 
 versifying," or a composition in some of the metres then 
 attempted to be constructed on the principles of the an- 
 cient Greek and Latin prosody;* and it must therefore 
 have been, at least in its form, entirely different from 
 what we have here. Nor, considering the long interval 
 that had elapsed, does it seem very probable that there 
 would be much resemblance between the present and the 
 former composition in any respect. The episode, as we 
 have it, is altogether in Spenser's most matured style ; 
 and it may be assumed not to have been written even 
 when the first three Books of the Fairy Queen were pub- 
 lished, else it would probably have been introduced in 
 that portion of the poem. 
 
 To the house of Proteus, then, all the water deities, 
 the poet tell us, repaired on this occasion, both the 
 greater and the least — - 
 
 As well which in the mighty ocean trade, 
 As that in rivers swim, or brooks do wade — 
 
 adding, in Homeric fashion, that, if he had an hundred 
 tongues, as many mouths, a voice of brass, and a memory 
 
 * See Vol. I. pp. 28, 29.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 1G1 
 
 endless, or boundless, he could not recount them all in 
 order. And then he proceeds : — 
 
 Help therefore, thou sacred imp of Jove, 
 
 The nursling of dame Memory his dear, 
 
 To whom those rolls, laid up in heaven above, 
 
 And records of antiquity appear, 
 
 To which no wit of man may comen near ; 
 
 Help me to tell the names of all those floods 
 
 And all those nymphs, which then assembled were 
 
 To that great banquet of the watery gods, 
 
 And all their sundry kinds, and all their hid abodes. 
 
 First came great Neptune, with his three-forked mace, 
 That rules the seas and makes them rise or fall ; 
 His dewy locks did drop with brine apace 
 Under his diadem imperial : 
 And by his side his queen with corona!, 
 Fair Amphitrite, most divinely fair, 
 Whose ivory shoulders weren covered all, 
 As with a robe, with her own silver hair, 
 And decked with pearls which the Indian seas for hei 
 prepare. 
 
 These marched far afore the other crew : 
 
 And all the way before them, as they went, 
 
 Triton his trumpet shrill before them blew, 
 
 For goodly triumph and great jolliment, 
 
 That made the rocks to roar as they were rent. 
 
 And after them the royal issue came, 
 
 Which of them sprung by lineal descent : 
 
 First the sea-gods, which to themselves do claim 
 
 The power to rule the billows, and the waves to tame. 
 
 Phorcys, the father of that fatal brood, 
 
 By whom those old heroes won such fame ; 
 
 And Glaucus, that wise soothsays understood ; 
 
 And tragic Ino's son, the which became 
 
 A god of seas through his mad mother's blame, 
 
 Now bight Palemou, and is sailors' friend ; 
 
 Great Brontes ; and Astrseus, that did shame 
 
 Himself with incest of his kin unkenned ; 
 
 And huge Orion, that doth tempests still portend ; 
 
 The rich Cteatus; and Eurytus long; 
 Neleus and Pelias, lovely brethren both ; 
 
 VOL. „. M
 
 1(}2 SPENSER AXD HIS POETRY. [Bnok IV. 
 
 Mighty Chrysaor; and Ca'icus strong; 
 Eurypulus, that calms the waters wroth : 
 And fair Euphcemus, that upon them go'th, 
 As on the ground, without dismay or dread ; 
 Fierce Eryx ; and Alebius, that know'th 
 The waters' depth, and doth their bottom tread ; 
 And sad Asopus, comely with his hoary head. 
 
 There also some most famous founders were 
 
 Of puissant nations, which the world possessed, 
 
 Yet sons of Neptune, now assembled here : 
 
 Ancient Ogyges, even the ancientest ; 
 
 And Inachus renowmed above the rest; 
 
 Phoenix ; and Aon ; and Pelasgus old ; 
 
 Great Belus ; Phceax ; and Agenor best; 
 
 And mighty Albion, father of the bold 
 
 And warlike people which the Britain Islands hold : 
 
 For Albion was the son of Neptune, and passed dry- 
 footed out of his own Britain, called Albion after him, 
 into Gaul, now called France, to fight with Hercules, by 
 whom what was mortal of him was slain ; but the im- 
 mortal spirit still lives, and comes with the rest of the 
 progeny of Neptune to this great feast. Of the remainder 
 of the Canto there is not a stanza that can be abridged or 
 thrown out. 
 
 Next came the aged Ocean and his dame 
 Old Tethys, the oldest two of all the rest; 
 For all the rest of those two parents came, 
 Which afterward both sea and land possessed ; 
 Of all which Nereus, the eldest and the best, 
 Did first proceed ; than which none more upright, 
 Ne more sincere in word and deed professed ; 
 Most void of guile, most free from foul despite, 
 Doing himself and teaching others to do right : 
 
 Thereto he was expert in prophecies, 
 
 And could the leddenJ of the gods unfold; 
 
 Through which, when Paris brought his famous prize, 
 
 The fair Tyndarid lass, he him foretold 
 
 That her all Greece with many a champion bold 
 
 j Language.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 163 
 
 Should fetch again, and finally destroy 
 Proud Priam's town: so wise is Nereus old, 
 And so well skilled ; nathless he takes great joy 
 Oft-times amongst the wanton nymphs to sport and toy. 
 
 And after him the famous rivers came, 
 Which do the earth enrich and beautify : 
 The fertile Nile, which creatures new doth frame; 
 Long Rbodanus, whose source springs from the sky ; 
 Fair Ister, flowing from the mountains high; 
 Divine Scamander, purpled yet with blood 
 Of Greeks and Trojans, which therein did die ; 
 Pactolus glistering with his golden flood; 
 And Tigris fierce, whose streams of none may be with" 
 stood ; 
 
 Great Ganges; and immortal Euphrates; 
 Deep Indus ; and Meander intricate ; 
 Slow Peneus ; and tempestuous Phasides ; 
 Swift Ehene ; and Alpheus still immaculate : 
 Oraxes, feared for great Cyrus' fate ; 
 Tybris, renowmed for the Romans' fame ; 
 Rich Oranochy, k though but knowen late ; 
 And that huge river, which doth bear his name 
 Of warlike Amazons which do possess the same. 
 
 Joy on those warlike women, which so long 
 
 Can from all men so rich a kingdom hold ! 
 
 And shame on you, O men, which boast your strong 
 
 And valiant hearts, in thoughts less hard and bold, 
 
 Yet quail in conquest of that land of gold ! 
 
 But this to you, O Britons, most pertains, 
 
 To whom the right hereof itself hath sold; 
 
 The which, for sparing little cost or pains, 
 
 Lose so immortal glory, and so endless gains. 
 
 Then was there heard a most celestial sound 
 Of dainty music, which did next ensue 
 Before the spouse : that was Arion crowned ; 
 Who, playing on his harp, unto him drew 
 The ears and hearts of all that goodly crew; 
 That even yet the dolphin, which him bore 
 Through the iEgean seas from pirates' view, 
 
 k The Orinoco.
 
 1G4 SPENSER ANI> HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Stood still by him astonished at his lore, 
 And all the raging seas for joy forgot to ivmr. 
 
 So went he playing on the watery plain : 
 Soon after whom the lovely bridegroom came, 
 The noble Thames, with all his goodly train. 
 But him before there went, as best became, 
 His ancient parents, namely the ancient Thame ; 
 But much more aged was his wife than he, 
 The Ouse, whom men do Isis rightly name ; 
 Full weak and crooked creature seemed she, 
 And almost blind through eld, that scarce her way could 
 see. 
 
 Therefore on either side she was sustained 
 
 Of two small grooms, which by their names were hight 
 
 The Churn and Charwell, two small streams, which 
 
 pained 
 Themselves her footing to direct aright, 
 Which failed oft through faint and feeble plight: 
 But Thame was stronger, and of better stay ; 
 Yet seemed full aged by his outward sight, 
 With head all hoary, and his beard all gray, 
 Dewed with silver drops that trickled down alway : 
 
 And eke he somewhat seemed to stoop afore 
 
 With bowed back, by reason of the load 
 
 And ancient heavy burden which he bore 
 
 Of that fair city, wherein make abode 
 
 So many learned imps, that shoot abroad, 
 
 And with their branches spread all Britany, 
 
 No less than do her elder sister's ' brood. 
 
 Joy to you both, ye double nursery 
 
 Of arts ! but, Oxford, thine doth Thame most glorify. 
 
 But he their son,™ full fresh and jolly was, 
 
 All decked in a robe of watchet" hue, 
 
 On which the waves, glittering like crystal glass, 
 
 So cunningly enwoven were, that few 
 
 Could weenen whether they were false or true : 
 
 And on his head like to a coronet 
 
 He wore, that seemed strange to common view, 
 
 Cambridge. m Thames. n Blue.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 1G5 
 
 In which were many towers and castles set, 
 That it encompassed round as with a golden fr< i. 
 
 Like as the mother of the gods, they say, 
 
 In her great iron chariot wonts to ride, 
 
 When to Jove's palace she doth take her May, 
 
 Old Cybele, arrayed with pompous pride, 
 
 Wearing a diadem embattled wide 
 
 With hundred turrets, like a turribant:° 
 
 With such an one was Thamis beautified ; 
 
 That was to weet the famous Troynovant, 
 
 In which her kingdom's throne is chiefly resiant.P 
 
 And round about him many a pretty page 
 
 Attended duly, ready to obey ; 
 
 All little rivers which owe vassalage 
 
 To him, as to their lord, and tribute pay : 
 
 The chalky Kennet ; and the Thetis grey ; 
 
 The morish Cole ; and the soft-sliding Brean ; 
 
 The wanton Lee, that oft doth lose his way ; 
 
 And the still Darent, in whose waters clean 
 
 Ten thousaud fishes play and deck his pleasant stream. 
 
 Then came his neighbour floods which nigh him dwell, 
 
 And water all the English soil throughout ; 
 
 They all on him this day attended well, 
 
 And with meet service waited him about; 
 
 Ne none disdained low to him to lout : 
 
 No, not the stately Severn grudged at all, 
 
 Ne storming Humber, though he looked stout ; 
 
 But both him honom-ed as their principal, 
 
 And let their swelling waters low before him fall. 
 
 There was the speedy Tamar, which divides 
 
 The Cornish and the Devouish confines ; 
 
 Through both whose borders swiftly down it glides, 
 
 And, meeting Plym, to Plymouth thence declines: 
 
 And Dart, nigh choked with sands of tinny mines: 
 
 But Avon marched in more stately path, 
 
 Proud of his adamants with which he shines 
 
 And glisters wide, as als of wondrous Bath, 
 
 And Bristow fair, which on his waves he builded hath. 
 
 And there came Stour with terrible aspect, 
 Bearing his six deformed heads on high, 
 
 Turban. p Resident.
 
 16G SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. ["Rook IV. 
 
 That doth his course through Blandford plains direct, 
 And washeth Winborne meeds in season dry. 
 Next him went Wilyburn with passage sly, 
 That of his wiliness his name doth take, 
 And of himself doth name the shire thereby: 
 And Mole, that like a nousling mole doth make 
 His way still under ground till Thames he overtake. 
 
 Then came the Bother, decked all with woods 
 Like a wood-god, and flowing fast to Rye ; 
 And Sture. that parteth with his pleasant floods 
 The eastern Saxons from the southern nigh, 
 And Clare and Harwich both doth beautify. 
 Him followed Yar, soft washing Norwich wall, 
 And with him brought a present joyfully 
 Of his own fish unto their festival, 
 
 Whose like none else could shew, the which they ruffins 
 call. 
 
 Next these the plenteous Ouse came far from land, 
 
 By many a city and by many a town, 
 
 And many rivers taking underhand 
 
 Into his waters, as he passeth down, 
 
 (The Clee, the Were, the Grants the Sture, the Eowne.) 
 
 Thence doth by Huntingdon aud Cambridge flit, 
 
 My mother Cambridge, whom as with a crown 
 
 He doth adorn, and is adorned of it 
 
 With many a gentle muse and many a learned wit. 
 
 And after him the fatal Welland went, 
 That if old saws prove true (which God forbid!) 
 Shall drown all Holland with his excrement. 
 And shall see Stamford, though now homely hid, 
 Then shine in learning more than ever did 
 Cambridge or Oxford, England's goodly beams. 
 And next to him the Nene down softly slid ; 
 And bounteous Trent, that in himself enseams 
 Both thirty sorts of fish and thirty sundry streams. 
 
 Next these came Tyne, along whose stony bank 
 That Roman monarch built a brazen wall, 
 Which mote the feebled Britons strongly flank 
 Against the Picts that swarmed over all, 
 
 i Misprinted Guant.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN, 1G7 
 
 Which yet thereof Gualsever they do cull : 
 
 And Tweed, the limit betwixt Logris laud 
 
 And Albany : and Eden, though but small, 
 
 Yet often stained with blood of many a band 
 
 Of Scots and English both, that tined r on his strand 
 
 Then came those six sad brethren, like forlorn, 
 That whilome were, as antique fathers tell, 
 Six valiant knights of one fair nymph yborn, 
 Which did in noble deeds of arms excel, 
 And -wonned there where now York people dwell ; 
 Still Ure, swift Werf, and Oze the most of might; 
 High Swale, unquiet Nide, and troublous Skell ; 
 All whom a Scythian king, that Humber hight, 
 Slew cruelly, and in the river drowned quite: 
 
 But passed not long, ere Brutus' warlike son 
 
 Locrinus them avenged, and the same date. 
 
 Which the proud Humber unto them had done, 
 
 By equal doom repaid on his own pate : 
 
 For in the self same river, where he late 
 
 Had drenched them, he drowned him again ; 
 
 And named the river of his wretched fate ; 
 
 Whose bad condition yet it doth retain. 
 
 Oft tossed with his storms which therein still remaia 
 
 These after came the stony shallow Lone, 
 That to old Loneaster his name doth lend ; 
 And following Dee, which Britons long ygone 
 Did call divine, that doth by Chester tend ; 
 And Conway, which out of Ids stream doth send 
 Plenty of pearls to deck his dames withal ; 
 And Lindus, that his pikes doth most commend, 
 Of which the ancient Lincoln men do call : 
 All these together marched toward Proteus' hull, 
 
 Ne thence the Irish rivers absent were : 
 Sith no less famous than the rest they be, 
 And, joined in neighbourhood of kingdom near, 
 Why should they not likewise in love agree, 
 And joy likewise this solemn day to see? 
 They saw it all, and present were in place : 
 Though I them all, according their degree, 
 
 r Were killed.
 
 168 SPESSER AM) HIS POETRY. [Book IV 
 
 Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race, 
 
 Nor read the salvage countries thorough which they pace. 
 
 There was the Liffy rolling down the lea ; 
 
 The Sandy Slane ; the stony Aubrion ; 
 
 The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea ; 
 
 The pleasant Boyne ; the fishy fruitful Ban ; 
 
 Swift Awniduff, which of the English man 
 
 Is called Blackwater ; and the Lift'ar deep ; 
 
 Sad Trowis, that once his people overran ; 
 
 Strong Alio tumbling from Slewlogher steep ; 
 
 And Mulla mine, whose waves I whilome taught to weep. 
 
 And there the three renowmed brethren were, 
 
 Which that great giant Blomius begot 
 
 Of the fair nymph Uheiisa wandering there: 
 
 One day, as she to shun the season hot 
 
 Under Slewboonie in shady grove was got, 
 
 This giant found her and by force deflowered ; 
 
 "Whereof conceiving, she in time forth brought 
 
 These three fair sons, which being thenceforth poured 
 
 In three great rivers ran, and many countries scoured. 
 
 The first the gentle Shure that, making way 
 
 By sweet Clonmell, adorns rich Waterford ; 
 
 The next, the stubborn Newre whose waters grey 
 
 By fair Kilkenny and Ilossponte board ; 
 
 The third, the goodly Barrow which doth hoard 
 
 Great heaps of salmon in his deep bosom : 
 
 All which, long sundered, do at last accord 
 
 To join in one, ere to the sea they come ; 
 
 So, flowing all from one, all one at last become. 
 
 There also was the wide embayed Mayre ; 
 
 The pleasant Bandon crowned with many a wood ; 
 
 The spreading Lee that, like an island fair, 
 
 Encloseth Cork with his divided flood ; 
 
 And baleful Oure late stained with English blood : 
 
 With many more whose names no tongue can tell. 
 
 All which that day in order seemly good 
 
 Did on the Thames attend, and waited well 
 
 To do their dueful service, as to them befell. 
 
 Then came the bride, the lovely Medua came, 
 Clad in a vesture of unknowen gear
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 1G9 
 
 And uncouth fashion, yet her well became, 
 
 That seemed like silver sprinkled here and there 
 
 With glittering spangs that did like stars appear, 
 
 And waved upon, like water chamelot, 9 
 
 To hide the metal, which yet everywhere 
 
 Bewrayed itself, to let men plainly wot 
 
 It was no mortal work, that seemed and yet was not. 
 
 Her goodly locks adown her back did flow 
 Unto her waist, with flowers bescattered, 
 The which ambrosial odours forth did throw 
 To all about, and all her shoulders spread , 
 
 As a new spring ; and likewise on her head 
 A chapelet of sundry flowers she wore, 
 From under which the dewy humour shed 
 Did trickle down her hair, like to the hoar 
 Congealed little drops which do the morn adore. 
 
 Oa her two pretty handmaids did attend, 
 One called the Theise, the other called the Crane : 
 Which on her waited things amiss to mend, 
 And both behind upheld her spreading train ; 
 Under the which her feet appeared plain, 
 Her silver feet, fair washed against this day ; 
 And her before there paced pages twain, 
 Both clad in colours like and like array, 
 The Doune and eke the Frith, both which prepared her 
 way. 
 
 And after these the sea-nymphs marched all, 
 
 All goodly damsels, decked with long green hair, 
 
 Whom of their sire Nereides men call, 
 
 All which the Ocean's daughter to him bare, 
 
 The grey-eyed Doris ; all which fifty are ; 
 
 All which she there on her attending had: 
 
 Swift Proto; mild Eucrate ; Thetis fair; 
 
 Soft Spio ; sweet Endore ; Sao sad ; 
 
 Light Doto; wanton Glauce ; and Galene glad ; 
 
 White-hand Eunica ; proud Dynamene ; 
 Joyous Thalia ; goodly Amphitrite ; 
 Lovely Pasithee; kind Eulimene; 
 Light-foot Cymothoe; and sweet Melite; 
 
 » Camlet.
 
 170 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 Fairest Pherusa; Phao lily white; 
 
 Wondered Agave ; Poris ; and Nesaea ; 
 
 With Erato that doth in love delight; 
 
 And Panopce ; and wise Protomedaea ; 
 
 And snowy-necked Doris; and Milk-white Galatluea ; 
 
 Speedy Hippothoe; and chaste Actea; 
 
 Large Lisianassa; and Pronoea sage; 
 
 Euagore ; and light Pontoporea ; 
 
 And, she that with the least word can assuage 
 
 The surging seas when they do sorest rage, 
 
 Cyruodoce ; and stout Autonoe ; 
 
 And Neso; and Eione well in age ; 
 
 And seeming still to smile Glauconome ; 
 
 And, she that hight of many hestes, Polynome ; 
 
 Fresh Alimeda decked with girland green ; 
 Hyponeo with salt-bedewed wrests ; c 
 Laomedia like the crystal sheen ; 
 Liagore much praised for wise behests ; 
 And Psamathe for her broad snowy breasts ; 
 Cymo; Eupompe ; and Themiste just; 
 And, she that virtue loves and vice detests, 
 Euarna ; and Menippe true in trust ; 
 And Nemertea learned well to rule her lust. u 
 
 All these the daughters of old Nereus were, 
 Which have the sea in charge to them assigned, 
 To rule his tides, and surges to uprear, 
 To bring forth storms, or fast them to upbind, 
 And sailors save from -wrecks of wrathful wind. 
 And yet besides, three thousand more there were 
 Of the Ocean's seed, but v Jove's and Phoebus' kind ; 
 The which in floods and fountains do appear, 
 And all mankind do nourish with their waters clear 
 
 The which, more eath w it were for mortal wight 
 To tell the sands, or count the stars on high, 
 Or ought more hard, than think to reckon right. 
 Put well I wote that these, which I descry, 
 Were present at this great solemnity : 
 
 1 Wrists. " Her will. 
 
 v Perhaps a misprint for " both." w Easy,
 
 Canto XII. ] THE FA1KY Ql'EES. 171 
 
 And there, amongst the rest, the mother was 
 Of luckless Marine!, Cymodoce ; 
 Which, for my muse herself now tired has, 
 Unto another Canto 1 will overpass. 
 
 Canto XII. (35 stanzas). — Still dwelling on the 
 thought with which he had concluded the preceding 
 Canto, the poet resumes : — 
 
 O what an endless work have I in hand, 
 
 To count the sea's abundant progeny, 
 
 Whose fruitful seed far passeth those in land, 
 
 And also those which won in the azure sky ! 
 
 For much more eath to tell the stars on high 
 
 All be they endless seem in estimation, 
 
 Than to recount the sea's posterity : 
 
 So fertile be the floods in generation, 
 
 So huge their numbers, and so numberless their nation. 
 
 Therefore the antique wizards well invented 
 
 That Venus of the foamy sea was bred ; 
 
 For that the seas by her are most augmented. 
 
 Witness the exceeding fry which there are fed, 
 
 And wondrous shoals which may of none be read. 
 
 Then blame me not if I have erred in count 
 
 Of gods, of nymphs, of rivers, yet unread : 
 
 For, though their numbers do much more surmount, 
 
 Yet all those same were there which erst I did recount. 
 
 All those were there, and many others, filling the house 
 of Proteus even to the door. And among the rest, as 
 already mentioned, was the mother of Marinel, now, as 
 we have seen, called Cymodoce (instead of Cymoent, 
 as before). With her, too, had come Marinel himself, 
 
 to learn and see 
 
 The manner of the gods when they at banquet be. 
 
 But, being half mortal, he could not sit down and par- 
 take with them ; so after a little while he walked abroad 
 to take a view of a dwelling-place so unlike anything he 
 had ever seen on earth ; and, wdiile so engaged, 
 
 Under the hanging of an hideous cliff 
 He heard tin- lamentable voice of one 
 That piteously complained her careful grief, 
 Which never she before disclosed to none,
 
 172 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 But to herself her sorrow did bemoan : 
 
 So feelingly her case she did complain, 
 
 That ruth it moved in the rocky stone, 
 
 And made it seem to feel her grievous pain, 
 
 And oft to groan with billows beating from the main : 
 
 " Though vain I see my sorrows to unfold 
 And count my cares, when none is nigh to hear ; 
 Yet, hoping grief may lessen being told, 
 I will them tell, though unto no man near : 
 For heaven, that unto all lends equal ear, 
 Is far from hearing of my heavy plight; 
 And lowest hell, to which I lie most near, 
 Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight; 
 And greedy seas do in the spoil of life delight." 
 
 He, she went on, who kept her in bondage was only 
 hardened the more by her complaints and tears; yet 
 would she never repent of her constancy to her own 
 love, but rather rejoice at all she suffered for his sake. 
 And, when she should be at rest in death at last, all she 
 asked was that the lament she now made might then be 
 borne to his ears, and he might know how hard she 
 thought it that he, a knight professing arms, should let 
 her die without attempting her deliverance. Then, after 
 a pause, she began afresh : — 
 
 " Ye gods of seas, if any gods at all 
 
 Have care of right or ruth of wretches' wrong, 
 
 By one or other way me, woeful thrall, 
 
 Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong, 
 
 In which I daily dying am too long : 
 
 And, if ye deem x me death for loving one 
 
 That loves not me, then do it not prolong, 
 
 But let me die and end my days atone, ? 
 
 And let him live unloved, or love himself alone. 
 
 But, if that life ye unto me decree, 
 
 Then let me live, as lovers ought to do, 
 
 And of my life's dear love beloved be : 
 
 And, if he should through pride your doom undo, 
 
 Do you by duress him compel thereto, 
 
 * Adjudge. * At once.
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 173 
 
 And in this prison put him here with me ; 
 One prison fittest is to hold us two : 
 So had I rather to be thrall than free; 
 Such thraldom or such freedom let it surely be. 
 But O vain judgment, and conditions vain, 
 The which the prisoner points unto the free ! 
 The whiles I him condemn, and deem his pain, 
 He where he list goes loose, and laughs at me : 
 So ever loose, so ever happy be ! 
 But whereso loose or happy that thou art, 
 Know, Marinel, that all this is for thee ! " 
 With that she wept and wailed, as if her heart 
 Would quite have burst through great abundance of her 
 smart. 
 
 Hearing his own name thus pronounced in passion and 
 agony, Marinel is for the first time touched with re- 
 morse and pity ; he wishes that he could release poor 
 Florimel, but knows no means by which to make the 
 attempt : — 
 
 Thus whilst his stony heart with tender ruth, 
 Was touched, and mighty courage mollified, 
 Dame Venus' son that tameth stubborn youth 
 With iron bit, and maketh him abide 
 Till like a victor on his back he ride, 
 Into his mouth his maistering bridle threw, 
 That made him stoop, till he did him bestride : 
 Then gan he make him tread his steps anew, 
 And learn to love by learning lover's pains to rue. 
 
 lie has now no rest for thinking how he may deliver 
 her: sometimes he thinks of humbly suing Proteus for 
 her discharge ; sometimes of forcing him " with sword 
 and targe" to give her up; sometimes of stealing her 
 away. But these plans are all manifestly vain and hope- 
 less. Then he begins 
 
 To damn himself by every evil name, 
 
 And deem unworthy or of love or life, 
 
 That had despised so chaste and fair a dame, 
 
 Which him had sought through trouble and long strife ; 
 
 Yet had refused a god that her had sought to wife. 
 
 At length, however, the feast being over, he is obliged
 
 174 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. Book IV. 
 
 to take his departure and return with his mother to her 
 bower. Here, in solitude and silence, he remembers 
 the state in which he has left Florimel, suffering day and 
 night " for his dear sake :" — 
 
 The thought whereof empierced his heart so deep, 
 That of no worldly thing he took delight; 
 Ne daily food did take, ne nightly sleep, 
 But pined and mourned, and languished, and alone did 
 weep ; 
 
 That in short space his wonted cheerful hue 
 Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quite : 
 His cheek-bones raw, and eye-pits hollow grew, 
 And brawny arms had lost their knowen might, 
 That nothing like himself he seemed in sight. 
 Ere long so weak of limb, and sick of love 
 He wox, that lenger he note stand upright, 
 But to his bed was brought, and laid above, 
 Like rueful ghost, unable once to stir or move. 
 
 His mother, alarmed and unable to discover the cause of 
 his illness, hastens again to Tryphon, who, revisiting his 
 patient, assures her that it is not, as she suspected, his 
 old wound insufficiently cured and rankling under the 
 orifice, or scar ; but some other malady, or hidden grief, 
 which his skill is unable to detect. Faint and trembling, 
 she then applies to Marinel himself, beseeching him, 
 " now with fair speeches, now with threatenings stern," 
 to tell her if anything lies heavy on his heart; " who 
 still her answered there. was nought." 
 
 Nathless she rested not so satisfied ; 
 
 But leaving watery gods, as booting nought, 
 
 Unto the shiny heaven in haste she hied, 
 
 And thence Apollo, king of leeches, brought. 
 
 Apollo came ; who, soon as he had sought 
 
 Through his disease, did by and by out find 
 
 That he did languish of some inward thought, 
 
 The which afflicted his engrieved mind ; 
 
 Which love he read to be, that leads each living kind. 
 
 Cymodoce is at first angry and chides her son ; but, 
 reassuring herself with the thought that it must be one
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 175 
 
 of the sea-nymphs he had lately seen for whom he lan- 
 guished, and that love of nymphs could not be included 
 in the " fatal read" which had warned him to beware of 
 the love of women, she afterwards wooes him with fair 
 entreaty to reveal to her who it is that moves his heart so 
 sore. When, however, he tells her that it is Florimel, 
 she begins to chafe afresh, and to " grieve in every 
 vein." Yet, whatever the prophecy of Proteus may mean, 
 or whether it be true or false, it is evident that her son 
 will die at any rate if the only remedy be not instantly 
 procured by the liberation of the lady. She feels that it 
 is useless to make suit to Proteus, or " unto any meaner 
 to complain ;" but hieing her at once to great King 
 Neptune himself, " and on her knee before him falling 
 low." she humbly implores him to grant her the life of 
 her son, whom his foe, a cruel tyrant, has iniquitously and 
 presumptuously condemned to death. God Neptune, 
 softly smiling, replies that the person of whom she com- 
 plains has committed wrong against him as well as 
 against her; for to condemn to death appertains to none 
 but to " the sea's sole sovereign." " Read therefore," 
 he says, 
 
 " who it is whicn thus hath wrought, 
 
 And for what cause; the truth discover plain: 
 For never wight so evil did or thought, 
 But would some rightful cause pretend, though rightly 
 nought." 
 
 She informs him that it is Proteus ; and that the pretence 
 he alleges is her son having laid claim to a waift, which 
 had come by chance upon the seas, and which in reality 
 belonged to neither of them, but to Neptune himself, by 
 his prerogative as sovereign : " Therefore," she adds, 
 
 " I humbly crave your majesty 
 
 It to replevy/ and my sou reprive: 
 
 So shall you by one gift save all us three alive." 
 
 Her prayer is granted ; a warrant is made out forthwith, 
 y Release, cause to be given up. z Reprieve.
 
 176 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book IV. 
 
 " under the sea-god's seal autentical," commanding 
 Proteus instantly to set at liberty the Maid he had lately 
 taken captive while wandering on the seas ; and Proteus, 
 as soon as he reads the order, which Cymodoee straight- 
 way takes to him, is reluctantly compelled to obey, and 
 to give up Florimel : — 
 
 Whom she receiving by the lily hand, 
 Admired her beauty much, as she mote well. 
 For she all living creatures did excel, 
 And was right joyous that she gotten had 
 So fair a wife for her sou Marinel. 
 
 As for Marinel himself, as " soon as he beheld that 
 angel's face," his heart revived, even as a withered flower 
 at the return of warm and genial weather 
 
 Lifts up his head that did before decline, 
 
 And gins to spread his leaf before the fair sunshine. 
 
 Nor did Florimel want her share of the blessedness : — 
 
 Ne less was she in secret heart affected, 
 
 Put that she masked it with modesty, 
 
 For fear she should of lightness be detected.
 
 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 177 
 
 Book Fifth. 
 
 The Fifth Book of the Fairy Queen is entitled TJie 
 Legend of Artegal, or of Justice. The introductory 
 
 address is of greater length than usual, and is very fine. 
 It begins, 
 
 So oft as I 'with state of present time 
 
 The image of the antique world compare, 
 
 Whenas man's age was in his freshest prime, 
 
 And the first blossom of fair virtue bare ; 
 
 Such odds I find twixt those, and these which are, " 
 
 As that, through long continuance of his course, - 
 
 Me seems the world is run quite out of square £. 
 
 From the first point of his appointed source ; c^ 
 
 And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse : t 
 
 For from the golden age, that first was named, 
 
 It 's now at erst * become a stony one ; 
 
 And men themselves, the which at first were framed 
 
 Of earthly mould, and formed of flesh and bone, 
 
 Are now transformed into hardest stone ; 
 
 Such as behind their backs (so backward bred) 
 
 Were thrown by Pyrrha and Deucalion : 
 
 And, if than those may any worse be read, 
 
 They into that ere long will be degendered. 
 
 Let none then blame me, if, in discipline 
 
 Of virtue and of civil use's lore, 
 
 I do not form them to the common line 
 
 Of present days which are corrupted sore ; 
 
 But to the antique use which was of yore, 
 
 When good was only for itself desired, 
 
 And all men sought their own, and none no more; 
 
 When justice was not for most meed outhired, 
 
 But simple truth did reign, and was of all admired. 
 
 a At length. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 X
 
 178 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. ["Book V. 
 
 For what all men then used to call virtue is now called 
 vice, and the name of virtue is given to what was then 
 esteemed vicious ; right is now wrong, and wrong is 
 right; and all other things are similarly changed. Nor, 
 proceeds our author, is this to be wondered at, seeing 
 that the revolving heavens themselves (he alludes to the 
 precession of the equinoxes) are wandered far away from 
 where they first were fixed, as plainly appears ; 
 
 For that same golden fleecy Earn, which bore 
 Phryxus and Helle from their stepdame's fears, 
 Hath now forgot where he was placed of yore, 
 And shouldered hath the Bull which fair Europa bore : 
 
 And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent horn 
 
 So hardly butted those two Twins of Jove, 
 
 That they have crushed the Crab, and quite him borne 
 
 Into the great Nemrean Lion's grove. 
 
 Even the Sun, in these fourteen hundred years that have 
 elapsed since the time " that learned Ptolomy his height 
 did take," is declined nigh thirty minutes to the south, 
 so that it may be feared we shall in time lose his light 
 altogether. Indeed, if credit may be given to the old 
 Egyptian sages, he had, since they first began to take 
 his height (a space, according to Herodotus, whose ac- 
 count is here referred to, of 11,340 years) four times 
 changed his place, and twice risen where he now sets 
 and set where he now rises. 
 
 But most is Mars amiss of all the rest ; 
 
 And next to him old Saturn, that was wont be best. 
 
 For during Saturn's ancient reign it 's said 
 
 That all the world with goodness did abound ; 
 
 All loved virtue, no man was afraid 
 
 Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be found ; 
 
 No war was known, no dreadful trumpet's sound ; 
 
 Peace universal reigned mongst men and beasts : 
 
 And all things freely grew out of the ground : 
 
 Justice sat high adored with solemn feasts, 
 
 And to all people did divide her dread beheasts : b 
 
 b Commands.
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 179 
 
 Most sacred virtue she of all the rest, 
 Resembling God in his imperial might ; 
 Whose sovereign power is herein most exprest, 
 That both to good and bad he dealeth right, 
 And all his works with justice hath bedight. c 
 That power he also doth to princes lend, 
 And makes them like himself in glorious sight 
 To sit in his own seat, his cause to end, 
 And rule his people right, as he doth recommend. 
 
 This leads naturally to the customary appeal to Elizabeth, 
 who is addressed as " dread sovereign goddess," and re- 
 quested to pardon the boldness of her "basest thrall" 
 who dares discourse of so high a theme as her great jus- 
 tice ; " the instrument whereof," the eleven stanzas con- 
 clude, " lo, here thy Artegal." 
 
 .(Junto I. (30 stanzas). — It has already been stated 
 that Sir Artegal (or Arthegal, as he is called in the 
 earlier part of the poem) is understood to stand for 
 Arthur Lord Grey of Wilton, who was sent over as Lord 
 Lieutenant to Ireland in July 1580, when Spenser 
 accompanied him as his secretary. In the present Book 
 he appears more distinctly than heretofore in his historical 
 character ; and his Irish government, which lasted for 
 about two years, and comprised the suppression of the 
 great rebellion headed by the Earl of Desmond, is espe- 
 cially shadowed forth in the allegory. 
 
 The present Canto opens with the praise of Bacchus 
 and Hercules, who first, we are told, in the ancient world 
 gave example of the repression of wrong and the esta- 
 blishment of right under the rule and by the power of 
 Justice, the former in the East, the latter in the West ; 
 and then we are carried back to the story of Artegal, 
 and the great adventure upon which we left him proceed- 
 ing after his marriage with Britomart, at the end of the 
 Sixth Canto of the preceding Book. The object upon 
 which he was bound was to succour a distressed lady, 
 Irena (that is, Ireland, anciently Ierne), against the 
 tyrant Grantorto, who withheld from her her heritage; 
 
 - Adorned.
 
 180 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Irena had come and besought redress from the Fairy 
 Queen, and that mighty empress, whose glory it is to be 
 the patroness and helper of all who are poor and op- 
 pressed, had selected Artegal for the enterprise. For 
 he from his infancy had been brought up and instructed 
 in all good and right by Astraea herself, who one day 
 while she lived among men and walked about over the 
 earth, " found this gentle child amongst his peers playing 
 his childish sport," and, having allured him " with gifts 
 and speeches mild to wend with her," brought him to a 
 distant cave, where she nursed him till he came of years, 
 " and all the discipline of justice there him taught." She 
 taught him to weigh right and wrong in equal balance, 
 and to measure out equity 
 
 According to the line of conscience, 
 
 Whenso it needs with rigour to dispense: 
 
 Of all the which, for want there of mankind, 
 
 She caused him to make experience 
 
 Upon wild beasts, which she in woods did find, 
 
 With wrongful power oppressing others of their kind. 
 
 Thus educated, when he came to the ripeness of his age 
 he was both the terror of the brute creation and the 
 admiration of men ; 
 
 Ne any lived on ground that durst withstand 
 His dreadful hest, li much less him match in fight, 
 Or bide the horror of his wreakful hand, 
 Whenso he list in wrath lift up his steely brand. 
 
 This brand, or sword, she had procured for him " by her 
 sleightand earnest search," from the eternal house of Jove, 
 where it lay, " unwist of wight," 
 
 Since he himself it used in that great fight 
 Against the Titans, that whilome rebelled 
 Gainst highest heaven ; Chrysaor it was hight ; 
 Chrysaor, that all other swords excelled, 
 Well proved in that same day when Jove those giants 
 quelled : 
 
 d Command.
 
 Cauto 1.1 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 181 
 
 For of most perfect metal it was made> 
 Tempered with adamant amongst the same, 
 And garnished all with gold upon the blade 
 In goodly wise, whereof it took his name, 
 And was of no less virtue than of fame : 
 For there no substance was so firm and hard, 
 But it would pierce or cleave whereso it came; 
 Ne any armour could his dint outward ; 
 But wheresoever it did light, it throughly shard. e 
 
 When Astrsea returned to heaven — 
 
 Where she hath now an everlasting place 
 
 Mongst those twelve signs, which nightly we do see 
 
 The heaven's bright-shining baudrick to enchase ; 
 
 And is the Virgin, sixthiniier degree, 
 
 And next herself her righteous Balance hanging be ; — 
 
 she left also to Artegal, always to go with him and to 
 perform whatever he commanded, an iron man, her 
 faithful groom, or attendant, and executioner of her 
 decrees : — 
 
 His name was Talus, made of iron mould, 
 Immoveable, resistless, without end ; 
 Who in his hand an iron flail did hold, 
 With which he threshed out falsehood, and did truth 
 unfold. t 
 
 Artegal heing Justice, Talus is Power, with which Jus- 
 tice, to be of any efficiency, must be attended or asso- 
 ciated. Talus, according to the ancient mycologists, 
 was a judge of the isle of Crete, who, partly from his 
 severity, partly from carrying about with him the laws 
 which he administered inscribed on brazen tablets, was 
 called the Brazen Man, and came to have the popular 
 reputation of being made of brass. " But how properly," 
 observes Upton, " does Spenser depart from ancient my- 
 thology, having a mythology of his own ! Spenser's 
 Talus is no judge ; therefore not a brazen man ; but he 
 is an executioner, an iron man, imaging his unfeeling and 
 rigid character." Him Artegal accordingly takes with 
 
 e Sl/ared, sheared, shore.
 
 1S2 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 him oa his present expedition ; and now, as they are mak- 
 ing their way along together, they came upon a startling 
 sight — a squire, squalidly attired, lamenting grievously 
 with many bitter tears, and lying beside him a headless 
 lady wallowing in her blood. Greatly moved, Artegal 
 asks the squire who it is that has done so foul a deed, 
 himself or another. It were little loss, the miserable 
 man replies, if he should admit the crime to be his own, 
 that he might drink the cup whereof she has drunk ; but 
 he would not take to himself another's guilt. The mur- 
 derer is a knight, " if knight he may be thought," who 
 came to him a short time ago as he sate here solacing him- 
 self with a fair lady, his love ; the knight was accompa- 
 nied by this other lady, who now lies headless before 
 them, and insisted upon exchanging her for the one who 
 was with the squire ; the squire and both ladies, as may 
 be supposed, objected to this arrangement ; but the knight, 
 throwing down his own lady from the courser on which 
 she rode along with him, snatched up the other and rode 
 off with her; and, when the one he had abandoned ran 
 after him and laid hold of him, praying that she might 
 rather die by his hand than be so cast off, 
 
 his sword he drew all wrathfully, 
 
 And at one stroke cropped off her head with scorn. 
 
 To Artegal's impatient inquiry which way he had gone, 
 and how he might be known, the squire states that he 
 bears for his ensign armorial a broken sword within a 
 bloody field — but that he is now too far away over the 
 plain to be overtaken. 
 
 No sooner said, but straight he after sent 
 His iron page, who him pursued so light, 
 As that it seemed above the ground he went : 
 For he was swift as swallow in her flight, 
 And strong as lion in his lordly might. 
 
 It is not long before the all-subduing Talus overtakes the 
 ruffian, who is called Sir Sanglier (which name, it has 
 been conjectured, may be designed to glance at Shan 
 O'Neal, the leader of the Irish insurrection of 1567, who 
 was notorious for his profligacy). To the call of the iron
 
 Canto I.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 183 
 
 man, he answers by making the lady alight, and riding at 
 him with all his force ; but Talus, no more moved than is 
 a rock when a stone is thrown at it, 
 
 to him leaping lent him such a knock, 
 
 That on the ground he laid him like a senseless block; 
 
 and before he can recover himself he has him seized so 
 firmly in his iron paw that when he conies to his senses 
 he finds he cannot wag a limb. The lady, too, who flies 
 in dread from the tremendous man, is quickly forced to 
 stay. But, when they are brought back to Artegal and 
 the squire, Sir Sanglier flatly denies all that he has been 
 charged with, and defies his accuser to the proof. The 
 squire, too weak to encounter such an antagonist, is in- 
 clined to give in ; yet Artegal has no doubt that he has 
 told the truth. It might seem that the most natural and 
 most satisfactory plan would be to appeal to the lady ; 
 but she may not perhaps have been so much disinclined 
 as she ought to have been to admit the claim of her bold 
 reaver, with whom she appears both to have gone off 
 somewhat readily and to have been riding along peaceably 
 enough when they were overtaken by Talus ; at any rate 
 Artegal takes another method of settling the matter. 
 Having requested them to allow him to decide the cause, 
 and got both to swear to submit to his judgment, he pro- 
 ceeds to apply Solomon's famous test for the discovery of 
 the truth in such cases, and proposes to have both the 
 dead and the living lady divided equally between the two 
 claimants. If either, he declares, should dissent from 
 this proposal, he must bear about with him the dead 
 lady's head for a year as a penance, and for a witness or 
 confession to the world that he is her murderer. 
 
 Well pleased with that doom was Sanglier, 
 
 And offered straight the lady to be slain : 
 
 But that same squire to whom she was more dear, 
 
 Whenas he saw she should be cut in twain, 
 
 Did yield she rather should with him remain 
 
 Alive than to himself be shared dead ; 
 
 And, rather than his love should suffer pain, 
 
 He chose with shame to bear that lady's head : 
 
 True love despiseth shame when life is called in dread.
 
 184 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Artegal immediately pronounces his just judgment ; but 
 it requires the intervention of Talus to compel the dis- 
 comfited Sir Sanglier to take up the head, which, how- 
 ever, he does at last, going off with it like a " rated 
 spaniel." The squire, filled with adoration of his bene- 
 factor, would gladly become his squire, and accompany 
 him on his adventure ; but Sir Artegal will by no means 
 consent, and, leaving him and his lady-love, of whose state 
 of feeling nothing is said, he proceeds on his journey as 
 before : 
 
 Ne wight with him but only Talus went ; 
 
 They two enough to encounter an whole regiment. 
 
 Canto II. (54 stanzas). — Proceeding along Sir Arte- 
 gal now meets a dwarf hastening in the opposite direc- 
 tion ; whom, having compelled him, much against his 
 will, to stop and tell his news, he finds to be Pony, 
 Florimcl's dwarf, whom the reader may remember to 
 have already encountered in the Fifth Canto of the 
 Third Book, but of whom we have heard nothing since 
 Arthur there promised never to forsake him till they 
 should have found his mistress, whom the Prince had 
 seen the day before making her escape from the foul 
 foster, and had so long unsuccessfully attempted to over- 
 take in her flight. When Arthur re-appears in the 
 Eighth Canto of the Fourth Book the dwarf is not with 
 him, and how they have been separated we are not 
 informed. The account that Dony now gives of himself, 
 or that is given of him by the poet, is, that, having found 
 in his way her " scattered scarf" (of the loss of which 
 we now hear for the first time), he had long feared that 
 his mistress was dead ; but he has now learned, and in- 
 forms Artegal, much to that noble knight's gratification, 
 that she lias been found again, and is about to be espoused 
 to Marino], he himself being on his way to the bridal, 
 although he doubts if he will be in time, for it is to take 
 place at the Castle of the Strond (Marinel's precious 
 strand, or shore) three days hence. In his way, besides, 
 there is a bridge a little farther on, which is kept by a 
 cruel Sa racen, a man expert in arms, and made still
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 185 
 
 bolder by the diabolical aid which he receives from his 
 daughter, who is an enchantress. He has appropriated 
 by force and oppression many great lordships and goodly 
 farms ; and he allows no one to pass over his bridge, be 
 he rich or poor, " but he him makes his passage-penny 
 pay." 
 
 " Thereto he hath a groom of evil guise, 
 Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth bewray, 
 Which polls and pills the poor in piteous wise; 
 But he himself upon the rich doth tyrannize. 
 
 His name is bight Pollente, rightly so, 
 
 For that he is SO puissant and strong, 
 
 That with his power he all doth overgo, 
 
 And makes them subject to his mighty wrong." 
 
 Some too he entraps by stratagem ; his custom being to 
 fight upon the bridge, which is very narrow, but of ex- 
 ceeding length, and pierced by many trap-falls, through 
 which horse and rider drop into the swift river that flows 
 underneath, upon which he instantly leaps into the water 
 after them and easily overpowers and despatches both. 
 All their spoils he brings to his daughter, who has thus 
 heaped up her wicked treasury to such a height that 
 her wealth exceeds that of many princes, and she has 
 purchased all the country lying round. Her name is 
 Munera (in allusion to the gifts of her father, upon 
 which she subsists). 
 
 " Thereto she is full fair, and rich attired, 
 With golden hands and silver feet beside, 
 That many lords have her to wife desired: 
 But she them all despiseth for great pride." 
 
 On hearing this relation Artegal swears by his life that, 
 with God to guide him, he will take no other road this 
 day but by that bridge ; and commands the dwarf to 
 lead him thither. Having come to the place they see 
 the Saracen waiting on the bridge, all ready armed ; and, 
 when they proceed to pass over, a villain comes up to 
 them " with skull all raw "—the same groom, or slave, 
 already described as testifying his bondage by his bald 
 scalp — and demands their passage-money. Artegal's in-
 
 \ 
 
 1S6 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 dignant answer is merely " Lo, there thy hire," and a 
 blow of his sword which deprives the villain of life. 
 The Pagan now rushes at him ; but he is prepared : a 
 trap-door opens at the moment when they are about to 
 meet breast to breast ; Pollente leaps down, counting 
 upon finding his adversary, as usual, fallen and struggling 
 in the water ; but Artegal preserves his seat and his pre- 
 sence of mind. 
 
 There being both together in the flood, 
 
 They each at other tyrannously flew ; 
 
 Ne ought the water^gfc^ed their hot blood, 
 
 But rather iu them kintWfcbcholer new : 
 
 But there the Paynim, who that use well knew 
 
 To fight in water, great advan tage ha t!; 
 
 That oftentimes him ni-li he overthrew : 
 
 And eke the courser whereupon he rad 
 
 Could swim like to a fish whiles he his back b estrad. 
 
 Perceiving the advantage that the Pagan in this way has, 
 Artegal suddenly closes with him, and gripes him so 
 fast by his iron collar, that he nearly bursts his wind- 
 pipe. The struggle is fierce and long. As, when a 
 dolphin and a seal engage with one another in battle 
 " in the wide champian of the ocean plain," — 
 
 They snuff, they snort, they bounce, they rage, they roar. 
 
 That all the sea. disturbed with their train, 
 
 Dotli fry with foam above the surges hoar: 
 
 Such was betwixt these two the troublesome uproar. 
 
 Artegal at length compels him to dismount; and now 
 they are upon a par r — 
 
 For Artegal in swimming skilful was, 
 
 And durst the depth of any water sound. 
 
 So ought each knight, that use of peril has, 
 
 Iu swimming be expert, through waters' force to pass. 
 
 Yet the event is still for a time doubtful. Artegal, how- 
 ever, being better breathed, retains his strength the 
 longest, and the other is forced to leave the water ; — 
 
 But Artegal pursued him still so near 
 With bright Chrysaor in his cruel hand
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QL'EEX. 187 
 
 That, as his head he gan a little rear 
 Above the brink to tread upon the land, 
 He smote it off, that tumbling on the strand 
 It bit the earth for very fell despite, 
 And gnashed with his teeth, as if he banned 
 High God, whose goodness he despaired quite, 
 Or cursed the hand which did that vengeance on him 
 dight. 
 
 The corpse is carried down the blood-stained stream ; 
 but the blasphemous head the victor fixes high upon a 
 uole, 
 
 Where many years it afterwards remained, 
 
 To be a mirror to all mighty men, 
 
 In whose right hands great power is contained, 
 
 That none of them the feeble over-ren, 1 
 
 But always do their power within just compass pen. 
 
 Artegal now proceeds to the castle and demands en- 
 trance ; but he is assailed by its numerous defenders, 
 both with furious invectives and with stones thrown down 
 upon him from the battlements; so that he is compelled 
 to withdraw, and to desire Talus to interpose with his 
 supernatural might. 
 
 Eftsoons his page drew to the castle gate, 
 And with his iron flail at it let fly, 
 That all the warders it did sore amate,? 
 The which ere-while spake so reproachfully, 
 And made them stoop, that looked erst so high. 
 Yet still he beat and bounced upon the door, 
 And thundered strokes thereon so hideously, 
 That all the piece h he shaked from the floor, 
 And filled all the house with fear and great uproar. 
 
 With noise whereof the lady forth appeared 
 
 Upon the castle wall ; and, when she saw 
 
 The dangerous state in which she stood, she feared 
 
 The sad effect of her near overthrow ; 
 
 And gan entreat that iron man below 
 
 To cease his outrage, and him fair besought ; 
 
 Sith neither force of stones which they did throw, 
 
 f Overrun. £ Affright. h Fortress.
 
 188 - SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Nor power of charms, which she against him wrought, 
   Might otherwise prevail, or make him cease foroight. 
 
 / But, whenas yet she saw him to proceed 
 Unmoved with prayers or with piteous thought, 
 She meant him to corrupt with goodly meed; 
 And caused great sacks with endless riches fraught 
 Unto the battlement to be upbrought, 
 And poured forth over the castle wall, 
 That she might win some time, though dearly bought, 
 Whilst he to gathering of the gold did fall ; 
 But he was nothing moved nor tempted therewithal : 
 
 But still continued his assault the more, 
 
 And laid on load with his huge iron flail, 
 
 That at the length he has yrent the door 
 
 And made way for his maister to assail : 
 
 Who being entered, nought did them avail 
 
 For wight against his power themselves to rear : 
 
 Each one did fly ; their hearts began to fail ; 
 
 And hid themselves in corners here and there 
 
 And eke their dame half dead did hide herself for fear. 
 
 It is thought at first that she has made her escape ; but 
 Talus, whose scent is no more to be eluded than his arm 
 is to be resisted, finds her at length hidden under a heap 
 of gold ; whence he drags her forth by her beautiful 
 locks so roughly, and with so little " pity of her goodly 
 hue," that Artegal himself is touched with her unseemly 
 plight. He will not, however, interfere with the pro- 
 ceedings of the stern iron man ; who, while the fair lady 
 kneels at his feet and holds up her hands in supplication, 
 chops off those hands of gold and those feet of silver, 
 that sold justice and sought unrighteousness, and nails 
 them on high to be a spectacle and a warning to all. 
 He then takes her up by the slender waist, and, heedless 
 of her loud cries for mercy, casts her over the castle wall 
 into the muddy flood below ; and after that he takes all 
 her vast treasure, the spoil which her father had scraped 
 together by hook and crook, and, burning all to allies, 
 pours it down the stream. Lastly, he razes the castle to 
 the foundation ; and Artegal, having then abolished the 
 evil customs of that bridge, proceeds on his journey.
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 189 
 
 The remainder of the Canto is very remarkable. 
 After travelling a long way, Artegal and Talus come to 
 the sea-shore, and there see before them a vast assembly 
 of people, towards whom they advance to learn what 
 such a gathering may mean. The sequel we give with- 
 out curtailment : — 
 
 There they beheld a mighty giant stand 
 
 Upon a rock, and holding forth on high 
 
 An huge great pair of balance in his hand, 
 
 With which he boasted in his surquedry ' 
 
 That all the world he would weigh equally, 
 
 If ought he had the same to counterpoise : 
 
 For want whereof he weighed vanity, 
 
 And filled his balance full of idle toys : 
 
 Yet was admired much of fools, women, and boys. 
 
 He said that he would all the earth uptake 
 
 And all the sea, divided each from either: 
 
 So would he of the fire one balance make, 
 
 And one of the air, without or wind or weather : 
 
 Then would he balance heaven and hell together, 
 
 And all that did within them all contain ; 
 
 Of all whose weight he would not miss a feather : 
 
 And look, what surplus did of each remain, 
 
 He would to his own part restore the same again. 
 
 For why, he said, they all unequal were, 
 And had encroached upon other's share ; 
 Like as the sea (which plain he shewed there) 
 Had worn the earth ; so did the fire the air; 
 So all the rest did others parts impair : 
 And so were realms and nations run awry. 
 All which he undertook for to repair, 
 In sort as they were formed anciently; 
 And all things would reduce into equality. 
 
 Therefore the vulgar did about him flock, 
 And cluster thick unto his leasings k vain ; 
 Like foolish rlies about an honey-crock; 
 In hope by him great benefit to gain, 
 And uncontrolled freedom to obtain. 
 
 Pride, presumption. k Lies,
 
 190 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 All -which when Artegal did see and hear, 
 
 How he misled the simple people's train, 
 
 In sdainful wise he drew unto him near, 
 
 And thus unto him spake, without regard or fear ; 
 
 " Thou, that presum'st to weigh the world anew, 
 
 And all things to an equal to restore. 
 
 Instead of right me seems great wrong dost shew, 
 
 And far above thy force's pitch to soar : 
 
 For, ere thou limit what is less or more 
 
 In everything, thou oughtest first to know 
 
 What was the poise of every part of yore: 
 
 And look then, how much it doth overflow 
 
 Or fail thereof, so much is more than just to trow. 1 
 
 For at the first they all created were 
 In goodly measure by their Makers' might ; 
 And weighed out in balances so near, 
 That not a dram was missing of their right : 
 The earth was in the middle centre pight, m 
 In which it doth immoveable abide, 
 Hemmed in with waters like a wall in sight, 
 And they with air, that not a drop can slide : 
 All which the heavens contain, and in their courses 
 guide. 
 
 " Such heavenly justice doth among them reign, 
 
 That every one do know their certain bound ; 
 
 In which they do these many years remain, 
 
 And mongst them all no change hath jet been found : 
 
 Rut, if thou now shonldst weigh them new in pound," 
 
 We are not sure they would so long remain : 
 
 All change is perilous, and all chance unsound. 
 
 Therefore leave off to weigh them all again, 
 
 Till we may be assured thej' shall their course retain/' 
 
 " Thou foolish elf." said then the giant wroth, 
 " Seest not how badly all things present be, 
 And each estate quite out of order go'th? 
 The sea itself dost, thou not plainly see 
 Encroach upon the land there under thee? 
 And the earth itself how daily it's increased 
 P>y all that dying to it turned be? 
 
 To wit. m Fixed. n Weight
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 191 
 
 Were it not good that wrong' were then surceast, 
 And from the most that some were given to the least ? 
 
 Therefore I will throw down these mountains high, 
 
 And make them level with the lowly plain ; 
 
 These towering rocks, which reach unto the sky, 
 
 I will thrust down into the deepest main, 
 
 And, as they were, them equalize again. 
 
 Tyrants, that make men subject to their law, 
 
 I will suppress, that they no more may reign ; 
 
 And lordings curb that commons overawe ; 
 
 And all the wealth of rich men to the poor will draw." 
 
 " Of things unseen how canst thou deem aright," 
 
 Then answered the righteous Artegal, 
 
 " Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things in sight? 
 
 What though the sea with waves continual 
 
 Do eat the earth, it is no more at all ; 
 
 Ne is the earth the less, or loseth ought : 
 
 For whatsover from one place doth fall 
 
 Is with the tide unto another brought : 
 
 For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought 
 
 Likewise the earth is not augmented more 
 
 By all that dying into it do fade; 
 
 For of the earth they formed were of yore : 
 
 However gay their blossom or their blade 
 
 Do flourish now, they into dust shall vade. 
 
 What wrong then is it if that when they die 
 
 They turn to that whereof they first were made ? 
 
 All in the power of their great Maker lie : 
 
 All creatures must obey the voice of the Most High, 
 
 They live, they die, like as He doth ordain, 
 
 Ne ever any asketh reason why. 
 
 The hills do not the lowly dales disdain; 
 
 The dales do not the lofty hills envy. 
 
 He maketh kings to sit in sovereignty ; 
 
 He maketh subjects to their power obey : 
 
 He pulleth down, He setteth up on high ; 
 
 He gives to this, from that He takes away : 
 
 For all we have is His: what He list do, He may 
 
 Whatever thing is done, by Him is done, 
 Ne any may His mighty will withstand;
 
 192 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Ne any may His sovereign power shun, 
 
 Ne loose that He hath bound with stedfast band : 
 
 In vain therefore dost thou now take in hand 
 
 To call to count or weigh His works anew, 
 
 Whose counsel's depth thou canst not understand ; 
 
 Sith of things subject to thy daily view 
 
 Thou dost not know the causes nor their courses due. 
 
 For take thy balance, if thou be so wise, 
 
 And weigh the wind that under heaven doth blow ; 
 
 Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise ; 
 
 Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow 
 
 But, if the weight of these thou canst not show, 
 
 Weigh but one word which from thy lips doth fall : 
 
 For how canst thou those greater secrets know. 
 
 That dost now know the least thing of them all ? 
 
 Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small." 
 
 Therewith the giant much abashed said. 
 
 That he of little things made reckoning light; 
 
 Yet the least word that ever could be laid 
 
 Within his balance he could weigh aright. 
 
 " Which is," said he, " more heavy, than, in weight, 
 
 The right or wroag, the false or else the true ?" 
 
 He answered that he would try it straight : 
 
 So he the words into his balance threw ; 
 
 But straight the winged words out of his balance flew. 
 
 Wroth wexeu he then, and said that words were light, 
 Ne would within his balance well abide : 
 But he could justly weigh the wrong or right, 
 " Well then,"' said Artegal, " let it be tried : 
 First in one balance set the true aside." 
 He did so first, and then the false he laid 
 In the other scale; but still it down did slide, 
 And by no mean could in the weight be staid : 
 For by no means the false will with the truth be 
 weighed. 
 
 " Now take the right likewise," said Artegale, 
 
 " And counterpoise the same with so much wrong," 
 
 So first the light he put into one scale; 
 
 And then the giant strove with puissance strong 
 
 To fill the other scale with so much wrong :
 
 Canto II.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 193 
 
 But all the wrongs that he therein could lay- 
 Might not it poise ; yet did he labour long, 
 And swate, and chafed, and proved every way : 
 Yet all the wrongs could not a little right down weigh. 
 
 Which when he saw, he greatly grew in rage, 
 
 And almost would his balances have broken : 
 
 But Artegal him fairly gan assuage, 
 
 And said, " Be not upon thy balance wroken ; 
 
 For they do nought but right or wrong betoken ; 
 
 But in the mind the doom of right must be : 
 
 And so likewise of words, the which be spoken, 
 
 The ear must be the balance, to decree 
 
 A.nd judge, whether with truth or falsehood they agree. 
 
 But set the truth and set the ri ght a side, 
 For they with wrong or falsehood will not fare. 
 And put two wrongs together to be tried, 
 Or else two falses of each equal share, 
 And then together do them both compare ; 
 For truth is one, and right is ever one." 
 So did he ; and then plain it did appear, 
 Whether of them the greater were attone ; 
 But right sat in the midest of the beam alone. 
 
 But he the right from thence did thrust away 
 For it was not the right which he did seek : 
 But rather strove extremities to weigh, 
 The one to diminish, the other for to eke : 
 For of the mean he greatly did misleak. 
 Whom when so lewdly minded Talus found, 
 Approaching nigh unto him cheek by cheek, 
 He shouldered him from off the higher ground, 
 And down the rock him throwing in the sea him 
 drowned. 
 
 Like as a ship, whom cruel tempest drives 
 
 Upon a rock with horrible dismay, 
 
 Her shattered ribs in thousand pieces rives 
 
 And, spoiling all her gears and goodly ray, 
 
 Does make herself misfortune's piteous prey : 
 
 So down the cliff the wretched giant tumbled ; 
 
 His battered balances in pieces lay, 
 
 His timbered bones all broken rudely rumbled : 
 
 So was the high-aspiring with huge ruin humbled. 
 
 VOL. Tf. O
 
 194 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 That when the people, which had there about 
 Long waited, saw his sudden desolation, 
 They gan to gather in tumultous rout, 
 And mutining to stir up civil faction 
 For certain loss of so great expectation : 
 For well they hoped to have got great good, 
 And wondrous riches by his innovation : 
 Therefore, resolving to revenge his blood, 
 They rose in arms, and all in battle order stood. 
 
 Which lawless multitude him coming to 
 
 In warlike wise when Artegal did view, 
 
 He much was troubled, ne wist what to do : 
 
 For loth he was his noble hands to embrue 
 
 In the base blood of such a rascal crew ; 
 
 And otherwise, if that he should retire, 
 
 He feared lest they with shame would him pursue : 
 
 Therefore he Talus to them sent to inquire 
 
 The cause of their array, and truce for to desire. 
 
 But, soon as they him nigh approaching spied, 
 
 They gan with all their weapons him assay, 
 
 And rudely strook at him on every side ; 
 
 Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought dismay : 
 
 But, when at them he with his flail gan lay, 
 
 He like a swarm of flies them overthrew : 
 
 Ne any of them durst come in his way, 
 
 But here and there before his presence flew, 
 
 And hid themselves in holes and bushes from his view ; 
 
 As when a falcon hath with nimble flight 
 
 Flown at a flush of ducks foreby ° the brook, 
 
 The trembling fowl dismayed with dreadful sight 
 
 Of death, the which them almost overtook, 
 
 Do hide themselves from her astonying look 
 
 Amongst the flags and covert round about. 
 
 When Talus saw they all the field forsook, 
 
 And none appeared of all that rascal rout, 
 
 To Artegal he turned and went with him throughout. 
 
 If this had been published in the end of the eighteenth 
 instead of in the end of the sixteenth century — in the 
 year 179G instead of in the year 1596 — the. allegory could 
 not have been more perfect, taken as a poetical represen- 
 
 ° Near to.
 
 Canto II.] THE EATRY QUEEN. 195 
 
 lation or reflection of recent events, and of a passage in 
 the political and social history of the world generally 
 held to be not more memorable than entirely novel and 
 unexampled. Here is the Liberty and Equality system 
 of philosophy and government — the portentous birth of 
 the French Revolution — described to the life two hun- 
 dred yearsTjeforeTihe French Revolution broke out ; de- 
 scribed both in its magnificent but hollow show, and its 
 sudden explosion or evaporation. This is probably one 
 of the instances in which we overrate the advance of mo- 
 dern speculation ; the system in question was never indeed 
 before attempted to be carried into practice on so large a 
 scale, or so conspicuous a platform, as in the end of the 
 last century in France ; but its spirit, though not perhaps 
 its distinct shape, had appeared before in many popular 
 outbreaks, and as an idea it must long have been familiar 
 to thinking men. The principles not only of political 
 philosophy but even of what is called political economy, 
 generally assumed to be almost wholly a modern science, 
 were the subject of much more attention, and were much 
 more profoundly investigated, in Spenser's age than is 
 commonly supposed. 
 
 Our attention has been directed by a correspondent to 
 a close resemblance between part of Artegal's refutati on 
 of the giant's pretensions and the discourse of the angel 
 Uriel in the Fourth~TJhapter of the Second Book of 
 Esdras in exposure of the ignorance of that prophet. 
 Our correspondent remarks that the present passage may 
 furnish a notion of what Spenser's lost version of the 
 Book of Ecclesiastes may have been.* 
 
 It is remarkable that no notice is taken in the sum- 
 mary at the head of the Canto of this exploit of Artegal's, 
 with which it is principally occupied, nor, it will be ob- 
 served, is the name of the vaunting giant any where 
 mentioned. In the case of an ancient author the cir- 
 cumstances would be thought by the critics almost suffi- 
 cient to condemn the whole episode as an interpolation 
 by another hand. 
 
 * See Vol. I. p. 31.
 
 
 196 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [BookV. 
 
 Canto III. (40 stanzas). — We now come at last to 
 the marriage of Marine! and Florimel : — 
 
 After long storms and tempests overblown 
 The sun at length his joyous face doth clear : 
 So whenas fortune all her spite hath shown, 
 Some blissful hours at last must needs appear ; 
 Else should afflicted wights oft-times despair. 
 So comes it now to Florimel by turn, 
 After long sorrows suffered whylere, 
 In which captived she many months did mourn, 
 To taste of joy, and to wont pleasures to return : 
 
 She was brought by Marinel to Fairy Land, there to be 
 made his joyous bride : 
 
 The time and place was blazed far and wide, 
 And solemn feasts and jousts ordained therefore, 
 To which there did resort from every side 
 Of lords and ladies infinite great store ; 
 
 but we are not to expect all that took place to be re- 
 counted. That, the poet warns us, is more than eithe: 
 his knowledge or his subject warrants him to undertake : — 
 
 To tell the glory of the feast that day, 
 
 The goodly service, the deviceful p sights, 
 
 The bridegroom's state, the bride's most rich array, 
 
 The pride of ladies, and the worth of knights, 
 
 The royal banquets, and the rare delights, 
 
 Were work fit for an herald, not for me : 
 
 But for so much as to my lot here lights, 
 
 That with this present treatise doth agree, 
 
 True virtue to advance, shall here recounted be. 
 
 The feast being over, all prepare for the jousting; 
 and first Sir Marinel issues forth, accompanied by six 
 other knights, all ready to maintain in fight against all 
 comers that the beauty of Florimel excels that of all other 
 women. 
 
 The first of them was hight Sir Orimont, 
 A noble knight, and tried in hard assays : 
 The second had to name Sir Bellisont, 
 But second unto none in prowess' praise : 
 
 p Full of devices.
 
 Canto III.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 197 
 
 The third was Brunei, famous in his days : 
 
 The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might : 
 
 The fifth Armeddan, skilled in lovely lays : 
 
 The sixth was Lansack, a redoubted knight : 
 
 All six well seen in arms, and proved in many a fight. 
 
 Against them come many " from every coast and 
 country under sun ;" and many passages of arms take 
 place ; yet after all on this first clay little is either lost 
 or won ; but the name that gains the greatest glory is 
 that of Marinel. And so it is likewise on the second day. 
 On the Third also the redoubted Lord of the Precious 
 Strand 
 
 through the thickest like a lion flew, 
 
 Rashing oft' helms, and riving plates asunder ; 
 
 That every one his danger did eschew : 
 
 So terribly his dreadful strokes did thunder, 
 
 That all men stood amazed, and at his might did wonder. 
 
 But, venturing in his impetuous courage too far among 
 the thick of his enemies, he is ove rpowered, and, having 
 been bound by them, is about to be carried away cap- 
 tive, forsaken by all, when unexpected succour arrives. 
 Sir Artegal com es into the tilt-yard , accompanied by 
 Braggadoccio and the snowy lady, whom he has chanced 
 to meet as he rode along. As soon as he learns what 
 has befallen Marinel, not wishing to be known, he de- 
 sires Braggadoccio to change shields with him ; and then, 
 rushing among the captors of Marinel, soon rescues him, 
 although he has first to overcome fifty knights by whom 
 his onset is opposed, and then to get the prisoner out of 
 the hands of as many more who have staid behind to 
 guard him. When Marinel is unbound and at liberty, 
 he and Artegal turn round, and quickly drive the whole 
 force of the enemy from the field. Artegal then restores 
 his borrowed shield to its owner. It now falls to be 
 determined to whom the prize of valour for the day be- 
 longs ; all call for the strange knight, with the shield 
 "which bore the sun broad blazed in a golden field;" 
 Braggadoccio comes forward ; and to him the honour is 
 adjudged by acclamation — the trumpets three times shrilly
 
 1L)8 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 soundin i the name of Don Braggadoccio, and goodly greet- 
 ings and a thousand thanks being bestowed upon him by 
 the lips of the fairest Florimel herself. But she is con- 
 founded with astonishment and shame when the boaster, 
 instead of the usual courteous acknowledgment, answers 
 her rudely and scornfully, that what he has done that 
 day he has done not for her but for his own dear lady's 
 sake, whom he will at his peril maintain to excel in 
 beauty both her and all others whatsoever. And then 
 he brings forth his snowy Florimel, who has been stand- 
 ing by all this while m charge ofTrompart, and covered 
 with a veil, which is now uplifted. The crowd are stu- 
 pified with amazement. ; some say it is surely the true 
 FlorimeJ, others declare that Florimel herself is not so 
 fair — " so feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar has." 
 
 Which whenas Marinel beheld likewise, 
 He was therewith exceedingly dismayed ; 
 Ne wist he what to think, or to devise ; 
 But. like as one whom fiends had made afraid. 
 He long astonished stood, ne ought he said, 
 Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eyes 
 He gazed still upon that snowy maid, 
 Whom, ever as he did the more avise, 
 The more to be true Florimel he did surmise. 
 
 As when two suns appear in the azure sky, 
 
 Mounted in Phoebus' chariot fiery bright, 
 
 Both darting forth fair beams to each man's eye, 
 
 And both adorned with lamps of flaming light ; 
 
 All that behold so strange prodigious sight, 
 
 Not knowing nature's work, nor what to ween, 
 
 Are rapt with wonder and with rare affright, 
 
 So stood Sir Marinel when he had seen 
 
 The semblant of this false by his fair beauty's queen. 
 
 Artegal, however, now steps forward. "Thou losel 
 base," he begins, addressing the Boaster, 
 
 That hast with borrowed plumes thyself endued, 
 
 And other's worth with leasings dost deface, 
 
 When they are all restored thou shalt rest in disgrace. 
 
 " That shield, which thou dost bear, was it indeed 
 Which this day's honour saved to Marinel ;
 
 Canto III.] THE TAIEY QUEEN. 199 
 
 But not that arm, nor thou the man, I read, 
 Which didst that service unto Florimel :" 
 
 He then calls upon him to show the marks of fight either 
 upon his sword or upon his person ; — proceeding 
 
 " But this the sword which wrought those cruel stounds, 
 And this the arm the which that shield did bear, 
 And these the signs," (so shewed forth his wounds,) 
 " By which that glory gotten doth appear." 
 
 As for the lady, he believes her, he declares, to be only 
 "some fair franion," or light character, "fit for such 
 a fere," or companion, who has chanced to fall into his 
 hands. And for proof he desires that Florimel may be 
 called. 
 
 So forth the noble lady was ybrought, 
 
 Adorned with honour and all comely grace : 
 
 Whereto her bashful shamefacedness y wrought 
 
 A great increase in her fair blushing face; 
 
 Asi roses did with lilies interlace : 
 
 For of those words, the which that boaster threw, 
 
 She inly yet conceived great disgrace : 
 
 Whom whenas all the people such did view, 
 
 They shouted loud, and signs of gladness all did shew. 
 
 Then did he set her by that snowy one, 
 Like the true saint beside the image set; 
 Of both their beauties to make paragon 
 And trial, whether should the honour get. 
 Straightway, so soon as both together met, 
 The enchanted damsel vanished into nought : 
 Her snowy substance melted as with heat, 
 Ne of that goodly hue remained ought, 
 But the empty girdle which about her waist was 
 wrought. 
 
 As when the daughter of Thaumantes fair r 
 Hath in a watery cloud displayed wide 
 
 « As if. 
 
 r Iris (the Kainbow) daughter of Thaumas (not Thau- 
 mantes).
 
 200 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid air. 
 
 That all men wonder at her colour's pride ; 
 
 All suddenly, ere one cau look aside, 
 
 The glorious picture vanisheth away, 
 
 Ne any token doth thereof abide : 
 
 So did this lady's goodly form decay, 
 
 And into nothing go, ere one could it bewray. 
 
 While all arc transfixed with astonishment, and Bragga- 
 doccio in particular stands " like a lifeless corse immove- 
 able," Artegal taking up the g olden belt, Florimel's own 
 girdle, presents it to her, and she pufslt about her tender 
 waist, which, in evidence of her perfect purity, it per- 
 fectly fits. Another claimant upon Braggadoccio's bor- 
 rowed plumes now comes forward, our old friend Sir 
 Guyon, the champion of Temperance, the appropriation 
 of whose horse by the losel was, it will be remembered, 
 the exploit which first introduced him to our notice, in 
 the Third Canto of the Second Book. It is the same 
 upon which he is still mounted ; and Guyon, seizing with 
 one hand on the golden bit, with the other draws his 
 sword and is going to kill the thief at once. He is how- 
 ever held back ; and 
 
 Thereof great hurly burly moved was 
 Throughout the hall for that same warlike horse ; 
 
 that is to say, apparently, there is a general desire among 
 the knights to get possession of the noble animal, as well 
 as a strong disposition to retain him on the part of Brag- 
 gadoccio. As, however, that boasting coward will not 
 accept Guyon's challenge to try his right in arms, Ar- 
 tegal asks Guyon if he can mention any private mark 
 about the horse by which he knows him to be his. 
 
 " If that," said Guyon, "may you satisfy, 
 Within his mouth a black spot doth appear, 
 Shaped like a horse's shoe, who list to seek it there." 
 
 The first that attempts to look into his mouth the horse 
 settles by such a kick in the ribs that he never speaks 
 more ; another, who, with more caution, takes hold of 
 him "by the bright embroidered headstall," he rids
 
 Canto III.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 201 
 
 himself of as effectually by biting him through the shoul- 
 der-bone. Nor will he allow any one to approach him 
 till Guyon himself speaks to him, and calls him by his 
 name, Brigadore ; as soon as he hears that well-known 
 voice he stands as still as a stake, 
 
 And, whenas he him named, for joy he brake 
 His bands, and followed him with gladful glee, 
 Arjd frisked, and flung aloft, and louted low on knee. 
 
 Artegal now pronounces judgment ; the steed is made 
 over to Sir Guyon, arrayed in golden saddle as he stands ; 
 and Braggadoccio is commanded to be gone, and " fare 
 on foot till he an horse have gained." But the proud 
 boaster still reclaims with foul and insolent language 
 against Artegal's decision. The latter is so incensed 
 that he thrice lays his hand on his sword to kill him, and 
 is only prevented by the interference of Guyon. Talus, 
 however, takes him up by the back, and, carrying him 
 forth, inflicts on him a suitable chastisement ; — 
 
 First he his beard did shave, and foully shent ;» 
 Then from him reft his shield, and it renversed, 
 And blotted out his arms with falsehood blent; 
 And himself baffled,' and his arms unhersed ; u 
 And broke his sword in twain, and all his armour 
 spersed. T 
 
 Trompart too, although he has taken to his heels, the 
 inevitable iron man catches, and gives him a whipping. 
 And " now," says the poet, concluding the Canto, 
 
 when these counterfeits were thus uncased 
 
 Out of the foreside of their forgery, 
 
 And in the sight of all men clean disgraced, 
 
 All gan to jest and gibe full merrily 
 
 At the remembrance of their knavery : 
 
 Ladies can laugh w at ladies, knights at knights, 
 
 To think with how great vaunt of bravery 
 
 He them abused through his subtile sleights, 
 
 And what a glorious shew he made in all their sights. 
 
 s Disfigured. l Disgraced. 
 
 " Took down from the place where they hung. 
 
 T Dispersed, scattered. w Laughed.
 
 202 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 There leave we them in pleasure and repast, 
 Spending their joyous days and gladful nights, 
 And taking usury of time forepast, 
 With all dear deliees and rare delights, 
 Fit for such ladies and such lovely knights : 
 And turn we here to this fair furrow's end 
 Our weary yokes, to gather fresher sprites, 
 That, whenas time to Artegal shall tend, 
 We on his first adventure may him forward send. 
 
 Canto IV. (51 stanzas). — The history- of Artegal is 
 now resumed as follows : — 
 
 Whoso upon himself will take the skill 
 
 True justice unto people to divide, 
 
 Had need have mighty hands for to fulfil 
 
 That which he doth with righteous doom decide, 
 
 And for to maister wrong and puissant pride : 
 
 For vain it is to deem" of things aright, 
 
 And makes wrong-doers justice to deride, 
 
 Unless it be performed with dreadless might: 
 
 For Power is the right hand of Justice truly hight. 
 
 Therefore whilome to knights of great emprise 
 The charge of justice given was in trust, 
 That they might execute her judgments wise, 
 And with their might beat down licentious lust," 
 Which proudly did impugn her sentence just 
 Whereof no braver precedent this day 
 Eemains on earth, preserved from iron rust 
 Of rude oblivion and long time's decay. 
 Than this of Artegal, which here we have to say. 
 
 Leaving the Castle of the Strond, accompanied as 
 before only by " that great iron groom," Artegal as he 
 passes along the sea shore comes upon two cpmejj squires 
 on the point of engaging witli one another in fight, 
 apparently for a strong iron-bound coder, — much injured 
 cither from having been tossed about in the sea, or 
 brought from some far country, — which stands before 
 them ; while by them are two seendy damsels striving 
 with all earnestness to pacify them, sometimes with 
 
 Pass judgment upon. ? Wilfulness.
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAXKY QUEEN. 203 
 
 entreaty, sometimes with threats. To Artegal's inquiries 
 the elder. Bracidas, informs him, that they are two 
 brethren between whom their father, Milesio, had at his 
 death made an equal partition of his lands, leaving to 
 each one of the two islands lying in sight, which were 
 then of equal size ; but that the sea had since carried 
 away the greater part of his island, and added it to the 
 other belonging to his younger brother Amidas ; that 
 at first, moreover, he himself loved the maid standing 
 furthest off, the fair Philtra, or Philtera, with whom he 
 would have got a goodly fortune, while Amidas loved the 
 other called Lucy, who had little dower except her 
 beauty and her virtue ; but now, since the diminution of 
 his lands, Philtra had gone over to his brother, who on 
 his part had taken her for his love and left Lucy. Upon 
 this that unhappy maid had in her despair thrown herself 
 into the sea; but, the desire of life, or dread of death, 
 reviving in her as she was tossed about by the waves, she 
 had there caught hold of the chest now standing before 
 them, and she and it had been cast ashore together upon 
 the smaller island, where he, Bracidas, had found her, 
 and saved her from perishing. In return she had bestowed 
 upon him all she had to give, the chest and herself — 
 " both goodly portions, but of both the better she," 
 although the chest, too, upon being examined was found 
 to contain a large amount of treasure. Now', however, 
 the whole was claimed by Philtra and her husband, on 
 the pretence that it was property of her's which had 
 been lost at sea. " Whether it be so or no," concludes 
 Bracidas, " I cannot say ;" — 
 
 " But, whether it indeed be so or no, 
 This do I say, that whatso good or ill 
 Or God, or fortune, unto me did throw 
 (Not wronging any other by my will,) 
 I hold mine own, and so will hold it still. 
 And though my land he first did win away, 
 And then my love, (though now it little skill, 1 ) 
 Yet my good luck he shall not likewise prey a ; 
 But 1 will it defend whilst ever that I may." 
 
 * Matter. a Make prey of.
 
 204 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 All the rejoinder that Amidas makes is merely, that the 
 money can certainly he proved to be part of the estate of 
 Phi I "a, and that therefore it ought to be given up to her 
 without more ado. Confident, however, as each is in the 
 justice of his own view of the matter, they agree to leave 
 Artegal to decide between them, and, as a pledge that 
 they will submit to the judgment he shall pronounce, 
 they both place their swords under his foot. 
 
 Then Artegal thus to the younger said ; 
 
 " Now tell me, Amidas, if that ye may, 
 
 Your brother's land the which the sea hath laid 
 
 Unto your part, and plucked from his away, 
 
 By what good right do you withhold this day ?" 
 
 " What other right," quoth he, " should you esteem, 
 
 But that the sea it to my share did lay ?" 
 
 " Your right is good," said he, " and so I deem 
 
 That what the sea unto you sent your own should seem." 
 
 Then turning to the elder, thus he said : 
 
 " Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be shown ; 
 
 Your brother's treasure, which from him is strayed, 
 
 Being the dowry of his wife well known, 
 
 By what right do you claim to be your own ?" 
 
 " What other right," quoth he, " should you esteem, 
 
 But that the sea hath it unto me thrown ?" 
 
 " Your right is good," said he, " and so I deem 
 
 That what the sea unto you sent your own should seem. 
 
 " For equal right in equal things doth stand : 
 
 For what the mighty sea hath once possessed, 
 
 And plucked quite from all possessor's hand, 
 
 Whether by rage of waves that never rest, 
 
 Or else by wrack that wretches hath distressed, 
 
 He may dispose by his imperial might, 
 
 As thing at random left, to whom he list. 
 
 So, Amidas, the land was yours first bight ; _ 
 
 And so the treasure yours is, Bracidas, by right." 
 
 Bracidas and Lucy immediately seize on the treasure, 
 and, though Amidas and Philtrado not profess to approve 
 of the sentence, they do not dispute it. 
 
 So was their discord by this doom appeased, 
 
 And each one had his right. 
 Artegal then departs on his way, " to follow his old quest."
 
 Canto IV.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 205 
 
 As he and Talus are travelling along they see at a 
 distance a great rout, or throng, of people, whom, upon 
 coming up to them, they find to their surprise to be a 
 troop of women, all clad in armour and with weapons in 
 their hands! In the midst of them is a knight, witli 
 both his hands tied behind him, and a halter about his 
 neck, whom they are evidently dragging along - to the 
 gallows ; his head is bare, but his face is covered, and he 
 is groaning inwardly in bitter vexation and shame " that 
 he of women's hands so base a death should die ;" while 
 they, " like tyrants merciless," are taunting and revil- 
 ing him, and triumphing over his misery. When Arte- 
 gal conies up, they begin to swarm about him, thinking 
 to get him also into their power. He is ashamed him- 
 self " on womankind his mighty hand to shend," or 
 dishonour ; but, having drawn back, he sends Talus 
 among them, who "with few souces of his iron flail," 
 disperses them in a moment. When the captive knight 
 is brought to Artegal, he immediately recognises him as 
 Sir Turpin, or Terpin . The account that Terpin gives 
 of himself is, that, having heard of a defiance lately 
 published against all knights of the order of Maidenhead 
 by Rad igund, the proud Queen of the Amazons, — in- 
 furiated, it was "sa!37by her hlffred~f6~BeHbdant the Bold, 
 who had rejected her love, — he had encountered her in 
 fight, and, having been overcome, was, when he was 
 rescued by Artegal, about to be put to death because he 
 would not cpuietly submit to the degrading life she im- 
 posed upon whosoever thus fell into her power : — 
 
 " For all those knights, the which by force or guile 
 She doth subdue, she foully doth entreat : 
 First, she doth them of warlike arms despoil, 
 And clothe in women's weeds ; and then with threat 
 Doth them compel to work to earn their meat, 
 To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to wring ; 
 Ne doth she give them other thing to eat 
 But bread and water or like feeble thing ; 
 Them to disable from revenge adventuring. 
 
 But, if through stout disdain of manly mind 
 Any Iter proud observance will withstand
 
 20G SPENSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book V. 
 
 Upon that gibbet, which is there behind, 
 She causeth them be hanged up out of hand." 
 
 Sir Artegal, on hearing all this, of course burns to 
 avenge the cause of the noble order to which he be- 
 longs ; and Terpin forthwith conducts him to the resi- 
 dence of the Amazonian queen, which is not more than 
 a mile or two distant ; 
 
 A goodly city and a mighty one, 
 
 The which, of her own name, she called Eadegone. 
 
 Warned by the watchmen, the people run to arms, 
 swarming in clusters like bees ; and ere long the queen 
 herself, " half like a man," comes forth among the war- 
 like multitude and proceeds to arrange the lines. The 
 knights beat a peal upon the gates, demanding entrance, 
 and to the contemptuous refusal of the porter, who laughs 
 at the presumption of three individuals attempting to 
 storm a populous city, they reply with many threats, if 
 they win the place, " to tear his flesh in pieces for his 
 sins ;" till provoked by their bold words Queen Radi- 
 gund orders the gates to be unbarred. They press for- 
 ward, but are immediately staid by a shower of arrows, 
 their numerous enemies at the same time rushing upon 
 them from all sides and heaping strokes upon them with 
 theirs words. In the furious fight that ensues, Radigund, 
 seeing Terpin, inspired by revenge, doing powerful exe- 
 cution among her maids, flies at him like a lioness, and, 
 dealing him a tremendous blow on his headpiece, strikes 
 him senseless to the earth. 
 
 Soon as she saw him on the ground to grovel, 
 
 She lightly to him leapt ; and, in his neck 
 
 Her proud foot setting, at his head did level, 
 
 Weening at once her wrath on him to wreak, 
 
 And his contempt, that did her judgment break : 
 
 As when a bear hath seized her cruel claws 
 
 Upon the carcase of some beast too weak 
 
 Proudly stands over, and awhile doth pause 
 
 To hear the piteous beast pleading her plaintive cause. 
 
 But now Artegal, leaving the bloody slaughter in which 
 he swims, runs to save his friend : —
 
 Onnto IV.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 207 
 
 There her assailing fiercely fresh he raught her 
 
 Such an huge stroke, that it of sense distraught her 
 
 And, had she not it warded warily, 
 
 It had deprived her mother of a daughter : 
 
 Nathless for all the power she did apply 
 
 It made her stagger oft, and stare with ghastly eye ; 
 
 Like to an eagle, in his kingly pride 
 Soaring through his wide empire of the air, 
 To weather his broad sails, by chance hath spied 
 A goshawk, which hath seized for her share 
 Upon some fowl, that should her feast prepare, b 
 With dreadful force he flies at her belive c 
 That with his souce, which none enduren dare, 
 Her from the quarry he away doth drive, 
 And from her griping pounce the greedy d prey doth 
 rive. 
 
 She soon, nevertheless, recovers her senses, and, frantic 
 with rage and mortified pride, eagerly seeks to renew the 
 encounter ; her maids, however, flock about her, and 
 bear her oft' before she and Artegal can meet again. But 
 among the rest the fight lasts till the evening ; 
 
 And every while that mujhty iron man, 
 
 With his strange weapon, never wont e in war, 
 
 Them sorely vexed, and coursed, and over-ran, 
 
 And broke their bows, and did their shootiDg mar, 
 
 That none of all the many once did clarre f 
 
 Him to assault nor once approach him nigh ; 
 
 But like a sorts of sheep dispersed far, 
 
 For dread of their devouring enemy, 
 
 Through all the fields and valleys did before him fly. 
 
 When it becomes dark, Radigund with sound of trumpet 
 recals her troops within the walls ; and Artegal, pitching 
 his pavilion before the city-gate, prepares to rest therein 
 along with Terpin, Talus, as he is wont, keeping watch. 
 But Radigund now determines to offer to decide the 
 quarrel in her own person in single combat with the 
 
 b To make a feast for her. 
 c Forthwith. d Greedily caucht. 
 
 Used. f Dare. s Flock.
 
 208 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [ISook V. 
 
 Fairy Knight ; and, calling to her a trusty maid named 
 Clarin, charges her with a message to that effect. " But," 
 she adds, 
 
 " conditions do to him propound ; 
 
 That, if I vanquish him, he shall obey - 
 
 My law, and ever to my lore he hound ; 
 
 And so will I, if me he vanquish may; 
 
 "Whatever he shall like to do or say : 
 
 Go straight, and take with thee to witness it 
 
 Six of thy fellows of the best array, 
 
 And bear with you both wine and junkets fit, 
 
 And bid him eat : henceforth he oft shall hungry sit." 
 
 The damsel accordingly proceeds to the gate, and there 
 sounds a trumpet from the wall, which immediately 
 brings Talus forth from the tent, " to weeten what that 
 trumpet's sounding meant." She informs the iron man 
 that she would speak with his lord ; and, being conducted, 
 with her six companions to Artegal, she delivers her 
 message ; 
 
 Which he accepting, well as he could weet, h 
 Them fairly entertained with courtsies meet. 
 And gave them gifts and things of dear delight: 
 So back again they homeward turned their feet ; 
 But Artegal himself to rest did dight, 
 That he mote fresher be against the next day's fight. 
 
 Canto V. (57 stanzas). — As soon as it is dawn the 
 Knight and the Amazonian Queen both proceed to array 
 themselves for the coming fight ; the latter, 
 
 All in a camis 1 light of purple silk 
 Woven upon with silver, subtly wrought, 
 And quilted upon satin white as milk ; 
 Trailed with ribands diversly distraught, 
 Like as the workman had their courses taught ; 
 Which was short tucked for light motion 
 Up to her ham ; but, when she list, it raught 
 Down to her lowest heel, and thereupon 
 She wore for her defence a mailed habergeon. 
 
 h As he well knew how. ' Thin gown.
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. -°9 
 
 And on her legs she painted buskins wore, 
 Basted k with bands of gold on every side, 
 And mails between, and laced close afore ; 
 Upon her thigh her scymitar was tied 
 "With an embroidered belt of mickle pride ; 
 And on her shoulder hung her shield, bedecked 
 Upon the boss with stones that shined wide, 
 As the fair moon in her most full aspect ; 
 That to the moon it mote be like in each respect. 
 
 Thus attired, she issues from the city gate, in the midst 
 of a numerous guard of damsels, 
 
 Playing on shalms and trumpets, that from hence 
 Their sound did reach unto the heavens' height, 
 
 and retires to a rich pavilion prepared for her reception. 
 Artegal first enters the lists ; and now, in the midst of a 
 vast expecting multitude, the trumpets sound, and the 
 combat begins. " With bitter strokes it both began and 
 ended." Radigund at first rushes on with furious rage ; 
 but she is received by Artegal with a firmness upon 
 which she can make no impression, and, as soon as her 
 strength begins somewhat to abate, he becomes the 
 assailant. 
 
 Like as a smith that to his cunning feat 
 
 The stubborn metal seeketh to subdue, 
 
 Soon as he feels it mollified with heat, 
 
 With his great iron sledge doth strongly on it beat ; 
 
 So did Sir Artegal upon her lay, 
 
 As if she had an iron anvil been, 
 
 That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray, 
 
 Out of her steely arms were flashing seen, 
 
 That all on fire ye would her surely ween. 
 
 With a blow of his trenchant blade he slices off the half 
 of her shield ; and she with her sharp scymitar wounds 
 him in the thigh. Another of his puissant strokes 
 shatters the remainder of her shield to pieces ; and then 
 with a blow upon her helmet he fells her to the ground. 
 But when he has unlaced her helmet, intending to cut 
 
 k Sewed slightly. 
 
 VOL. II. P
 
 210 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 oft* her head, such a miracle of nature's fairest workman- 
 ship blazes out upon him from her face, bathed as it is in 
 blood and sweat — 
 
 Like as the moon, in foggy winter's night, 
 
 Doth seem to be herself, though darkened be her light — 
 
 that Jiis astonished heart is pierced with pity, and he 
 throws his sword from him, 
 
 Cursing his hand that had that visage marred : 
 No hand so cruel, nor no heart so hard, 
 But ruth of beauty -will it mollify. 
 
 Meanwhile the lady, recovering from her swoon, sud- 
 denly starts up, and, seeing her adversary weaponless, 
 not very generously assails him again as fiercely as ever. 
 He defends himself as well as he can from her pitiless 
 storm of blows, and also earnestly entreats her to discon- 
 tinue her fury; but, as a puttock, or kite, that may have 
 seen a gentle falcon sitting on a hill with one of its wings 
 broken, will attack and persist in annoying it, so does she 
 continue to lay on for all that he can do or say. At last, 
 as he has no means of either returning or staying her 
 strokes, nothing is left for him but to deliver up his 
 shield, and yield himself to her mercy. Thus is he con- 
 demned by doom of his own mouth to be heF thrall ; 
 having by abandoning his sword lost the victory he at 
 first had won. Radigund merely strikes him with the 
 flat of her sword, in sign of his vassalage, while the more 
 unfortunate Terpin is at once attached and swung up on 
 the gallows ; from which he had so lately escaped in 
 
 var 
 
 But, when they thought on Talus hands to lay, 
 
 He with his iron flail amongst them thundered, 
 
 That they were fain to let him scape away, 
 
 Glad from his company to be so sundered ; 
 
 Whose presence all their troops so much encumbered, 
 
 That the heaps of those which he did wound and slay, 
 
 Besides the rest dismayed, might not be numbered : 
 
 Yet all that while he would not once essay 
 
 To rescue his own lord, but thought it just to obey.
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 211 
 
 Then the Amazon, taking Artegal, causes him to be 
 stripped of all his knightly ornaments, and to be shame- 
 fully arrayed instead in woman's weeds, with a white 
 apron before him in place "of - " curiets and bases," or 
 cuirasses and cuisses. Then she brings him into " a long 
 large chamber," where she makes his arms be suspended 
 aloft, and breaks his sword, and where he sees all around 
 him 
 
 Many brave knights whose names right well he knew, 
 
 There bound to obey that Amazon's proud law, 
 
 Spinning and carding all in comely rew, 1 
 
 That his big heart loathed so uncomely view : 
 
 But they were forced, through penury and pine, 
 
 To do those works to them appointed due : 
 
 For nought was given them to sup or dine, 
 
 But what their hands could earn by twisting linen twine. 
 
 The noble Artegal js placed th e lowest of all, and a 
 distaff Ts given hTni"on wTuch to spin flax and tow ; 
 
 A sordid office for a mind so brave : 
 So hard it is to be a woman's slave ! 
 
 Yet, having plighted his faith to obey his conqueror as a 
 vassal, he submit s. As may be expected, the poet does 
 not forget to compare him to Hercules, when, "for 
 Iola's sake," as he has it — putting Iola, or Iole, hy mis- 
 take for Omphale — he had exchanged his club for a dis- 
 taff, and his lion's skin for a pall of gold ; 
 
 In which, forgetting wars, he only joyed 
 
 In combats of sweet love, and with his mistress toyed. 
 
 Such, it is added, is the cruelty of womankind whenever 
 they shake off the wise law of nature which binds them 
 " to obey the bests of man's well-ruling hand ;" 
 
 For virtuous women wisely understand, 
 
 That they were born to base humility, 
 
 Unless the heavens them lift to lawful sovereignty — 
 
 the last line being, of course, a salvo to prevent offence 
 being taken by Elizabeth. 
 
 Artegal long remains thus in subjection to the proud 
 
 1 Row.
 
 212 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 queen ; meanwhile her wandering fancy is taken captive 
 by her captive ; for a long time her love struggles with 
 her pride ; hut at last she secretly calls to her her most 
 trusted handmaid, Clarinda (the same who has already 
 been mentioned as Clarin), and, after for a moment 
 turning away her head, 
 
 as half abashed, 
 
 To hide the blush which in her visage rose 
 
 And through her eyes like sudden lightning flashed, 
 
 Decking her cheek with a vermilion rose, 
 
 composes her countenance, and confesses that she has 
 that to disclose in regard to which through dread of 
 shame she would fain be silent. Clarinda urges her to 
 speak with soothing, encouraging words : — 
 
 Say on. my sovereign lady, and be bold : 
 Doth not your handmaid's life at your foot lie ? 
 
 and then she tells her all ; and engages her to endeavour, 
 by any way she can devise, to win Artegal to feelings 
 answering to her own, yet without discovering to him 
 that he is hhuselfloved. "That her confidante may the 
 better bring this to pass, she gives her a ring, which will 
 be, she tells her, a warrant to old Eumenias, the keeper 
 of the place where Artegal is confined, to afford her free 
 passage in and out whenever she chooses. And " Go 
 now," she says, 
 
 Clarinda, well thy wits advise, 
 
 And all thy forces gather uuto thee, 
 
 Armies of lovely looks, and speeches wise, 
 
 With which thou canst even Jove himself to love entise. 
 
 Clarinda accordingly proceeds with all zeal to execute 
 her delicate commission, beginning by trying, by all the 
 means she may, " to curry favour with the elfin knight, 
 her lady's best beloved." After some time she one day 
 takes an opportunity of suggesting to him that there is a 
 way in which he might very probably succeed in rescuing 
 himself from his unhappy state : — why should he not try 
 what he can do to move Radigund by fair entreaty to 
 give him his liberty ? Although she has spent her days
 
 Canto V.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 213 
 
 in war, yet she was not born of bears and tigers ; nor, 
 although she scorn all love of men, is she for that more 
 seeure than others of her sex against the all-conquering 
 power. Excited by the thoughts she has put into his 
 head, Artegal admits that as "a queen, and come of 
 queenly kind," Radigund is abundantly worthy to be 
 sued unto, especially by one whose life is in her hands by 
 right as well as in fact ; and he adds that if by Clarinda's 
 good offices he could procure the necessary means he cer- 
 tainly would make the attempt. 
 
 She feeling him thus bite upon the bait, 
 
 Yet, doubting lest his hold was but unsound 
 
 And not well fastened, would not strike him straight, 
 
 But drew him on with hope, fit leisure to await. 
 
 Poor Clarinda, however, too heedless herself of the hook, 
 ere Ions; loses her own footing, and, slipping into the 
 water, is caught with the bait she lays for another; 
 wounded " with her deceit's own dart," the foolish maid 
 finds that she has herself fallen in love with Artegal. 
 She does not dare to reveal her affection either to himself 
 or any other ; but when her mistress one day sends for 
 her, and asks her what tidings she has of good success, 
 she pretends that she has found the Fairy Knight quite 
 obstinate and stern, and determined rather to die than 
 entertain a thought of love for his enemy: "his body 
 was her thrall, his heart was freely placed," — that was 
 his immoveable determination. 
 
 Which when the cruel Amazon perceived, 
 She gan to storm, and rage, and rend her sail, 
 For very fell despite, which she conceived, 
 To be so scorned of a base-born thrall, 
 Whose life did lie in her least eye-lid's fall. 
 
 Of that life she vows, with many a menacing curse, he 
 shall soon be deprived. When her heat is over, how- 
 ever, she sees matters in another light — and desires Cla- 
 rinda to try the stubborn knight again with more various 
 and more searching temptations : — 
 
 " Say and do all that may thereto prevail ; 
 
 Leave nought unpromised that may him persuade,
 
 214 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Life, freedom, grace, and gifts of great avail, 
 With which the gods themselves are milder made : 
 Thereto add art, even women's witty trade, 
 The art of mighty words that men can charm ; 
 With which in case thou canst him not invade, 
 Let him feel hardness of thy heavy arm : 
 Who will not stoop with good shall be made stoop with 
 harm. 
 
 "Some of his diet do from him withdraw, 
 For I him find to be too proudly fed : 
 Give him more labour, and with straiter law, 
 That he with work may be forwearied : 
 Let him lodge hard, and lie in strawen bed, 
 That may pull down the courage of his pride ; 
 And lay upon him, for his greater dread, 
 Cold iron chains with which let him be tied ; 
 And let whatever he desires be him denied." 
 
 Thus charged, the false maiden returns to the prison. 
 
 There all her subtile nets she did unfold, 
 And all the engines of her wit display ; 
 
 so that she deceived and betrayed at once her lady, the 
 knight, and herself. Radigund she beguiles, even as a 
 wicked nurse, who, pretending to feed her child out of 
 her mouth, swallows what she receives therein herself, 
 and leaves the child umiourished ; for she pretends to 
 Artegal that she has made earnest suit for his freedom in 
 vain ; that, on the contrary, her mistress's orders are that 
 she shall augment his sufferings and load him with iron 
 fetters ; all which, nevertheless, she forbears to do for the 
 love she bears him — " so praying him to accept her ser- 
 vice evermore." She even promises that, " in case she 
 might find favour in his eye," she will devise some way 
 of setting him at liberty. Artegal, tempted by this pros- 
 pect, warmly thanks her for her courtesy, 
 
 And, with fair words, fit for the time and place, 
 To feed the humour of her malady, 
 
 promises that, if she will indeed do for him what she says, 
 he will do what he can to merit such grace. Yet for all
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 215 
 
 this, never, we are assured, does he mean in his noble 
 mind :i to his own absent love to be untrue." Neither 
 docs Clarinda for her part mean ever to procure him his 
 liberty, but rather to fix him in faster bondage. Yet in 
 the meantime she somewhat amends his scanty fare, and 
 also lessens his work, in the hope that his love may 
 thereby grow. And thus he long remains in the hands 
 of the mistress and the maid — " of both beloved well, but 
 little friended ;" till at last his deliverance is achieved by 
 his own Britomart. But that will be best related in an- 
 other Canto. 
 
 Canto YI. (40 stanzas). — Some, the poet begins by 
 observing7will, he knows, deem it great weakness in 
 Artegal to have so yielded himself up "to the insolent 
 command of women's will ;" but let the man who so 
 judges take good heed that he himself stand steadfast ; 
 
 For never yet was wight so well aware, 
 
 But he at first or last was trapped in women's snare. 
 
 Yet Artegal amid all the temptations to which he was 
 exposed still preserved his loyalty to his own love ; 
 
 Whose character in the adamantine mould 
 Of his true heart so firmly was engraved, 
 That no new love's impression ever could 
 Bereave it thence. 
 
 Not quite sure of this, however, does Britomart feel 
 when, after she has been long expecting his return, the 
 account of what has befallen him is brought to her by 
 Talus — " brought in untimely hour, ere it was sought." 
 She has been already tormenting herself with various 
 apprehensions ; sometimes she dreaded that he had been 
 overtaken by some misfortune or treachery ; 
 
 But most she did her troubled mind molest, 
 
 And secretly afflict with jealous fear, 
 
 Lest some new love had him from her possessed ; 
 
 Yet loth she was, since she no ill did hear, 
 
 To think of him so ill ; yet could she not forbear. 
 
 Hearing nothing of him long after the utmost date assigned
 
 216 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Rook V - 
 
 for his return, she has at last almost determined to set 
 out in quest of him : — 
 
 Now she devised, amongst the warlike rout 
 
 Of errant knights, to seek her errant knight ; 
 
 And then again resolved to hunt him out 
 
 Amongst loose ladies lapped in delight : 
 
 And then both knights envied, and ladies eke did spite. 
 
 At last one day as she is standing at a window that opens 
 to the west, in which direction Artegal had gone, and 
 sending 
 
 her winged thoughts more swift than wind 
 
 To bear unto her love the message of her mind, 
 after looking long she at last espies one coming towards 
 her in haste : — 
 
 Well weened she then, ere she him plain descried, 
 That it was one sent from her love indeed. 
 
 When he approaches, she sees that it is Talus . With 
 her heart filled with hope and dread, she runs forth. 
 
 Even in the door him meeting, she begun ; 
 
 " And where is he thy lord, and how far hence ? 
 
 Declare at once : and hath he lost or won ?" 
 
 Talus, who, although without the sense of sorrow, yet 
 with the consciousness of the ill tidings he brings, inly 
 chills and quakes, stands silent. She desires him to be 
 bold, and tell her what has happened, be it good or evil. 
 Has his lord, she asks, been vanquished by his tyrant 
 enemy ? 
 
 " Not by that tyrant, his intended foe ; 
 
 But by a tyranness," he then replied, 
 
 " That him captived hath in hapless woe." 
 
 " Cease thou, bad newsman ; badly dost thou hide 
 
 Thy maister's shame, in harlot's bondage tied : 
 
 The rest myself too readily can spell." 
 
 And then she turns from him in rage, suffering him to 
 say no more, and, shutting herself up in her chamber, 
 she is there torn by a tempest of contending emo-
 
 Canto VI."! THE FAIRY QUEEN. 
 
 21< 
 
 tions. She blames and bitterly regrets her own facility 
 in yielding herself so lightly to a stranger's love— one of 
 whose life and manners she knew nothing. Sometimes 
 in her rage she burns to blot out that stain upon her 
 honour by compelling him to fight with her, and so find- 
 ing for herself an honourable death. 
 
 A while" 3 she walked, and chafed ; a while she threw 
 
 Herself upon her bed, and did lament : 
 
 Yet did she not lament with loud alew, n 
 
 As women wont, hut with deep sighs and singulfs° few. 
 
 Like as a wayward child, whose sounder sleep 
 Is broken with some fearful dream's alright, 
 With froward will doth set himself to weep, 
 Ne can be stilled for all his nurse's might, 
 But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for fell despite ; 
 Now scratching her, and her loose locks misusing, 
 Now seeking darkness, and now seeking light, 
 Then craving suck, and then the suck refusing : 
 Such was this lady's fit in her love's fond accusing. 
 
 At length, however, she sends for Talus again, and asks 
 him in what circumstances Artegai was, how he was em- 
 ployed, " and whether he did woo, or whether he were 
 wooed." " Ah wellaway !"' replies the iron man ; " he 
 is not the while in state to woo ;" and then he explains 
 to her that he " lies in wretched thraldom, weak and 
 wan," although indeed compelled thereunto not by strong 
 hand but by " his own doom, that none can now undo." 
 Is not this, she rejoins, the very thine;- she has asserted ? 
 Talus is in a compact with his lord to hide the truth from 
 her and to deceive her. On this Talus relates the whole 
 story of Artegal's captivity, as it has already been told in 
 the two last Cantos. Agitated with wrath and grief, we 
 are told, she heard him to the end; then she lost not 
 another moment, or answered a word ; 
 
 But straight herself did dight, and armour don, 
 And mounting to her steed bade Talus guide her on. 
 
 Forthwith, accordingly, they set out together : 
 
 m One while. n Halloo, howling. ° Sobs.
 
 218 SrENSER AM) HIS POETRY. [BooR V. 
 
 Sadly she rode and never word did say 
 
 Nor good nor bad, ne ever looked aside, 
 
 But still right down ; and in her thought did hide 
 
 The fellness of her heart, right fully bent 
 
 To fierce avengement of that woman's pride, 
 
 Which had her lord in her base prison pent, 
 
 And so great honour with so foul reproach had blent. 
 
 Thus proceeding on her way, she meets toward the 
 eventide 
 
 A knight, that softly paced on the plain, 
 
 As if himself to solace he were fain : 
 
 Well shot in years he seemed, and rather bent 
 
 To peace than needless trouble to constrain ; 
 
 As well by view of that his vestiment, 
 
 As by his modest semblant, that no evil meant. 
 
 He gently salutes Britomart, whose sex, of course, he 
 does not suspect ; and, possessed as her mind is by ono 
 only thought, she is yet not so discourteous as to refuse to 
 enter into talk with him. At length he invites her to 
 take up her lodging with him for the night, which she 
 agrees to do. 
 
 Not far away, but little wide by west, 
 
 His dwelling was, to which he him addressed ; 
 
 Where soon arriving they received were 
 
 In seemly wise, as them beseemed best ; 
 
 For he their host them goodly well did cheer, 
 
 And talked of pleasant things the night away to wear. 
 
 When the time of rest arrives Britomart is conducted to 
 a chamber, where grooms are awaiting to undress her ; 
 but she declines to doff either garments or armour, excus- 
 ing herself by a vow she has made never to do so till 
 she has achieved her revenge on her foe. All night she 
 lies, 
 
 Restless, recomfortless, with heart deep grieved, 
 Not suffering the least twinkling sleep to start 
 Into her eye, which the heart mote have relieved ; 
 But if the least appeared, her eyes she straight reprieved.? 
 
 p Reproved.
 
 Canto VI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 219 
 
 " Ye guilty eyes," said she, " the which with guile 
 My heart at first betrayed, will ye betray 
 My life now too, for which a little while 
 Ye will not watch ? false watches, wellaway ! 
 I wote when ye did watch both night and day 
 Unto your loss ; and now needs will ye sleep ? 
 Now ye have made my heart to wake alway, 
 Now will ye sleep ? ah ! wake, and rather weep 
 To think of your night's want, that should ye waking 
 keep." 
 
 And thus she spends the weary hours, sometimes sitting 
 up, sometimes walking softly about the room, while 
 Talus also, watching without the door, never suffers sleep 
 "to seize his eyelids sad." Suddenly, however, 
 
 What time the native bellman of the night, 
 The bird that warned Peter of his fall, 
 First rings his silver bell to each sleepy wight, 
 That should their minds up to devotion call, 
 
 she hears a noise below, and all at once the bed on which 
 it was intended she should lie is let down through a 
 trap-door into a lower apartment, after which the opening 
 is again closed. Alarmed by this treachery she never- 
 theless stirs not nor calls out. Soon after she hears the 
 sound of armed men approaching, on which she quickly 
 seizes her sword and shield. Two knights all ready for 
 fight now present themselves at the chamber door, and 
 at their heels many more, " a rascal rout, with weapons 
 rudely dight." As soon as Talus sees them by the 
 glimmering light (his ear does not appear to have been 
 so acute as that of his mistress, or indeed to have been 
 of ordinary sharpness), he starts up, with his " thresher" 
 ready for action in his hand ; they press about him and 
 let drive at him from all sides ; 
 
 But, soon as he began to lay about 
 With his rude iron flail, they gan to fly, 
 Both armed knights, and eke unarmed rout. 
 
 Yet he pursues them, and knocks them down wherever 
 he can find them in the dark, so that they lie in all 
 directions like scattered sheep.
 
 220 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 The meaning of all this is now explained. The 
 " goodman of the house" is named Dolon — " a man of 
 subtile wit and wicked mind," who In "his youth had 
 been a knight and borne arms, but, never valorous, had 
 worked always by sly shifts and wiles, and brought many 
 noble knights to shame by treason and treachery. He 
 had three sons, all of dispositions like his own, of whom 
 the eldest was that Guizor, the groom or porter of the 
 Saracen Pollente, lord of the perilous bridge, who had 
 been put out of existence with so little ceremony by 
 Artegal, when he came up and made his demand for the 
 customary passage penny, as related in the Second Canto 
 of this Book. [Upton, we may here mention by the bye, 
 hazards a conjecture that Pollente with his trapfalls may 
 se designed for Charles IX. of France, infamous for the 
 treacherous massacre of the Protestants on the day of St. 
 Bartholomew, and that Guizor, his " groom of evil guise," 
 may be the great head of the Popish party, the Duke of 
 Guise]. Ever since the loss of his son, Dolon has been 
 devising how to be avenged ; and Britomart owes the 
 danger she has just encountered to her having been mis- 
 taken by him for Artegal, principally from her being ac- 
 companied by " that iron page." 
 
 As soon as the day breaks she leaves her chamber with 
 the intention of punishing Dolon as he deserves ; but 
 both sire and sons have fled. The sons, it is to be sup- 
 posed, were the two armed knights, who headed the 
 "rascal rout" dispersed by Talus. So, taking her 
 steed " and thereon mounting light," she proceeds on 
 her journey. But she has not " rid the mountenance of 
 a flight," that is, the amount or length of an arrow-flight, 
 when she sees the two brothers before her occupying 
 the same long narrow bridge on which Artegal had 
 fought with Pollente. They receive her with insult 
 and defiance, accusing her of the murder of Guizor by 
 guile, and affirming that she is no knight, but a recreant 
 false traitor, that with loan of arms had knighthood 
 stolen. Their words are strange and unintelligible to 
 her, but, heeding them not, she continues to ride for- 
 ward. Talus wishes to go before her to prepare the
 
 Canto VII.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 221 
 
 way, and scare those two losels ; but that she will not 
 allow : in her wrath at the proposal, we are told, 
 
 The glancing sparkles through her beaver glared, 
 
 And from her eyes did flash out fiery light, 
 
 Like coals that through a silver censer sparkled bright. 
 
 Spurring on, she bears one of the brothers on her spear 
 before her to the further end of the bridge ; the other, 
 as she passes, she brushes over the side into the river, 
 where he drinks " his deadly last:" — 
 
 As when the flashing levin i haps to light 
 
 Upon two stubborn oaks, which stand so near 
 
 That way betwixt them none appears in sight ; 
 
 The engine, fiercely flying forth, doth tear 
 
 The one from the earth, and through the air doth hear ; 
 
 The other it with force doth overthrow 
 
 Upon one side, and from his roots doth rear : 
 
 So did the championess these two there strow, 
 
 And to their sire their carcases left to bestow. 
 
 Canto VII. (45 stanzas). — " Nought is on earth," 
 observes the poet, in beginning this new Canto, 
 
 more sacred or divine 
 
 That gods and men do equally adore, 
 
 Thau this same virtue that doth right define : 
 
 the very heavens themselves are ruled by it ; 
 
 Well therefore did the antique world invent 
 
 That Justice was a god of sovereign grace, 
 
 And altars unto him and temples lent, 
 
 And heavenly honours in the highest place ; 
 
 Calling him great Osiris, of the race 
 
 Of the old ^Egyptian kings that whilome were ; 
 
 With feigned colours shading a true case ; 
 
 For that Osiris, whilst he lived here, 
 
 The justest man alive and truest did appear. 
 
 The wife of Osiris was Isis, and her also they made a 
 goddess of great power and sovereignty, shadowing forth 
 in her person that part of Justice called Equity, which 
 is the thing to be now here treated of. 
 
 i Lightning.
 
 222 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Britomart, having come to the Temple of Isis, enters 
 in with great humility by herself, for Talus may not be 
 admitted ; and there she will abide all the night : — 
 
 There she received was in goodly wise 
 
 Of many priests, which duly did attend 
 
 Upon the rites and daily sacrifice, 
 
 All clad in linen robes with silver hemmed ; 
 
 And on their heads with long locks comely kemd r 
 
 They wore rich mitres shaped like the moon, 
 
 To show that Isis doth the moon portend ; 
 
 Like as Osiris signifies the sun : 
 
 For that they both like race in equal justice run. 
 
 The championess them greeting, as she could, 8 
 
 Was thence by them into the temple led ; 
 
 Whose goodly building when she did behold 
 
 Borne upon stately pillars, all bespread 
 
 With shining gold, and arched over head, 
 
 She wondered at the workman's passing skill, 
 
 Whose like before she never saw nor read ; 
 
 And thereupon long while stood gazing still, 
 
 But thought that she thereon could never gaze her fill. 
 
 Thenceforth unto the idol they her brought ; 
 
 The which was framed all of silver fine, 
 
 So well as could with cunning hand be wrought, 
 
 And clothed all in garments made of line,' 
 
 Hemmed all about with fringe of silver twine : 
 
 Upon her head she wore a crown of gold ; 
 
 To show that she had power in things divine : 
 
 And at her feet a crocodile was rolled, 
 
 That with her wreathed tail her middle did enfold. 
 
 One foot was set upon the crocodile, 
 
 And on the ground the other fast did stand ; 
 
 So meaning to suppress both forged guile 
 
 And open force : and in her other hand 
 
 She stretched forth a long white slender wand. 
 
 Such was the goddess : whom when Britomart 
 
 Had long beheld, herself upon the land u 
 
 r Combed. 6 As she well knew how to do* 
 
 1 Linen. u Ground.
 
 Cimto VIL] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 223 
 
 She did prostrate, and with right humble heart 
 Unto herself her silent prayers did impart. 
 
 To which the idol as it were inclining 
 
 Her wand did move with amiable look, 
 
 By outward show her inward sense designing : 
 
 Who, well perceiving how her wand she shook, 
 
 It as a token of good fortune took. 
 
 But it now grows dark ; whereupon she unlaces her 
 helmet, and lays herself down to slumber by the altar's 
 side, for the priests here use no other beds but the lap 
 of their mother earth, thereby enuring themselves to suf- 
 ferance and mortification ; being all besides bound by 
 vows to stedfast chastity and continence : — 
 
 Therefore they mote not taste of fleshly food, 
 Ne feed on ought the which doth blood contain, 
 Ne drink of wine ; for wine they say is blood, 
 Even the blood of giants, which were slain 
 By thundering Jove in the Phlegrean plain : 
 For which the Earth (as they the story tell) 
 Wroth with the gods, which to perpetual pain 
 Had damned her sons which gainst them did rebel, 
 With inward grief and malice did against them swell : 
 
 And of their vital blood, the which was shed 
 Into her pregnant bosom, forth she brought 
 The fruitful vine ; whose liquor bloody red, 
 Having the minds of men with fury fraught, 
 Mote in them stir up old rebellious thought 
 To make new war against the gods again : 
 Such is the power of that same fruit, that nought 
 The fell contagion may thereof restrain, 
 Ne within reason's rule her madding mood contain. 
 
 There did the warlike maid herself repose, 
 Under the wings of Isis all that night ; 
 And with sweet rest her heavy eyes did close, 
 After that long day's toil and weary plight: 
 Where, whilst her earthly parts with soft delight 
 Of senseless &*eep did deeply drowned lie, 
 There did appear unto her heavenly sprite 
 A wondnras vision, whicn did close imply 
 The course of all her fortune and posterity.
 
 224 SPENSER AND HIS POETKY. [Book V, 
 
 Her seemed, as she was doing sacrifice 
 
 To Isis, decked with mitre on her head 
 
 And linen stole after those priestes guise, 
 
 All suddenly she saw transfigured 
 
 Her linen stole to robe of scarlet red, 
 
 And moon-like mitre to a crown of gold ; 
 
 That even she herself much wondered 
 
 At such a change, and joyed to behold 
 
 Herself adorned with gems and jewels manifold. 
 
 While she is thus wondering and happy, suddenly a 
 tempest seems to fill the temple, blowing the holy fire 
 all about the altar and strewing the embers on the ground, 
 so that flames break out in many places, and both the 
 temple and she herself are in danger of being set on fire 
 and consumed. 
 
 With that the crocodile, which sleeping lay 
 
 Under the idol's feet in fearless bower, 
 
 Seemed to awake in horrible dismay, 
 
 As being troubled with that stormy stour ; 
 
 And gaping greedy wide did straight devour 
 
 Both flames and tempest ; with which growen great, 
 
 And swollen with pride of his own peerless power, 
 
 He gan to threaten her likewise to eat : 
 
 But that the goddess with her rod him back did beat. 
 
 The sacred beast then turning all his pride to meek- 
 ness and humility, seems to throw himself at her feet 
 and to sue for grace and love ; which she accepting, con- 
 ceives by him and brings forth a lion, that speedily 
 subdues all other beasts. With this she awakens in great 
 terror, and 
 
 '> 
 
 — thereupon long while she musing lay, 
 With thousand thoughts feeding her fantasy ; 
 Until she spied the lamp of lightsome day 
 Up-lifted in the porch of heaven high : 
 Then up she rose fraught with melancholy, 
 And forth into the lower parts did pass, 
 Whereas the priests she found full busily 
 About their holy things for morrow mass ; 
 Whom she saluting fair, fair re-saluted was. 
 
 But they perceive by her looks that she is not well
 
 Canto VII. ] THE FAIRY QUEEN 225 
 
 either bodily or mentally ; and, one of them, who appears 
 to be the chief, expressing his fears that something ails 
 her, she tells them what she had seen in her vision. 
 The priest is overpowered with astonishment by what he 
 hears; and, addressing her now no longer as " Sir 
 Knight," but recognising her true sex, filled with hea- 
 venly fury, he breaks out : — 
 
 " Magnific virgin, that in quaint disguise 
 
 Of British arms dost mask thy royal blood, 
 
 So to pursue a perilous emprise ; 
 
 How couldst thou ween, through that disguised hood 
 
 To hide thy state from being understood ? 
 
 Can from the immortal gods ought hidden be ? 
 
 They do thy lineage, and thy lordly brood, 
 
 They do thy sire lamenting sore for thee, 
 
 They do thy love forlorn in women's thraldom see." 
 
 The crocodile, he goes on to declare, is her faithful 
 lover — 
 
 " Like to Osiris in all just endeavour; 
 
 For that same crocodile Osiris is, 
 
 That under Isis' feet doth sleep for ever." 
 
 The knight shall subdue all her enemies, and restore her 
 to the just heritage of her father's crown ; and after tl 
 she shall bear him a son, who shall Be like the lordly 
 lion in eminence and power. And " So," says the seer, 
 ending his address, 
 
 " So bless thee God, and give thee joyance of thy dream !'' 
 
 Much jelieved by what has been told her, Britomart, 
 after presenting rich presents to the priests and royal 
 gifts of gold and silver to their goddess, takes her leave, 
 and, continuing her journey, rests nowhere again till si^ 
 comes to the land of the Amazons. Pitching her pa- 
 vilion without the gate, even as had been done by Arte- 
 gal, she spends the night, as he also had done, under the 
 secure guardianship of Talus ; while the Amazons, whose 
 queen has heard of her arrival not with the terror natural 
 to a woman, but with the composure and joyous expecta- 
 tion of a warrior, keep watch and ward on their city 
 
 vol. n. *i
 
 226 SPENSER AND HIS FOETRY. [Book V. 
 
 walls. On the morrow as soon as it is dawn both ladies 
 come forth to the encounter. Before they begin the 
 Amazon proposes her usual condition, that her adver- 
 sary shall become bound, if beaten, to serve and obey 
 her in whatever she may command ; but Britomart in- 
 dignantly refuses to bind herself to any other terms than 
 those prescribed by the laws of chivalry. The fight is 
 a very furious one ; they hack and hew at one another 
 with no regard to the better uses for which the loveliness 
 they are defacing and mangling was made, struggling 
 together, and wasting one another's blood, like a tiger 
 and lioness over a disputed prey ; Britomart is severely 
 wounded in the shoulder ; but in return she smites Radi- 
 gund so fiercely on the helmet that the weapon pierces 
 to the very brain, and the Amazon falls prostrate ; on 
 which the wrathful Britoness, giving her no time to come 
 to herself again, with one more stroke cuts off her head. 
 On seeing this all her followers fly into the town ; yet 
 not so fast 
 
 But that swift Talus did the foremost win ; 
 And, pressing through the preace v unto the gate, 
 Pelmell with them at once did enter in : 
 There then a piteous slaughter did begin ; 
 For all that ever came within his reach 
 He with his iron flail did thresh so thin, 
 That he no work at all left for the leach. 
 
 Even " the noble conqucress," when she follows him into 
 the place, and sees the heaps of slaughtered carcases, is 
 touched with pity, and desires him to slack his fury ; 
 otherwise, we are assured, he would not have left a soul 
 alive. Then, inquiring for the prison in which her lord 
 is confined, she angrily breaks open the door and enters. 
 The sight of the disguised knights fills her noble heart 
 with indignation and shame ; and especially w hen sh e 
 conies to her own love so disfigured and degraded she 
 turns her head aside, unable to endure the hateful spec- 
 tacle. Then every other feeling is swallowed up in 
 pity, and, looking upon him with more wonder and asto- 
 
 v Press.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE TAIRY QUEEN. 227 
 
 nishment than Penelope on her Ulysses when he came 
 home to her so worn by his twenty years' wandering, 
 that she did not know him, 
 
 " Ah ! my dear lord, whatsiglrt_is_this,'' quolh she, 
 "What May-game hath misfortune made of you? 
 Where is that dreadful manly look ? where be 
 Those mighty palms, the which ye wont to embrue 
 In tlood of kings, and great hosts to subdue ? 
 Could ought on earth so wondrous change have wrought 
 As to have robbed you of that manly hue ? 
 Could so great courage stooped have to ought? 
 Then farewell, fleshly force ; I see thy pride is nought !" 
 
 Then bringing him without further delay into a chamber 
 she makes him doff "those uncomely weeds," and array 
 himself in other raiment and armour bright, of which 
 abundance is found in the palace of the Amazonian 
 queen. 
 
 So there awhile they afterwards remained, 
 
 Him to refresh, and her late wounds to heal : 
 
 During which space she there as princess reigned ; 
 
 And, changing all that form of common-weal, 
 
 The liberty of women did repeal, 
 
 Which they had long usurped ; and, them restoring 
 
 To men's subjection, did true justice deal : 
 
 That all they, as a goddess, her adoring, 
 
 Her wisdom did admire, and hearkened to her loring.w 
 
 The captive knights she appoints all magistrates of the 
 city, making them swear fealty to Artegal, and endowing 
 each of them with " great living and large fee." 
 
 But Artegal must now set out again upon his original 
 adventure ; and Britomart, althougn his departure brings 
 back her sorrow, is too tender of his honour and her own 
 to oppose his going. For a space she remains where he 
 has left her; "but at last she too takes her departure 
 from the city of the Amazons — in the hope that the 
 change of air and place may " change her pain, and sor" 
 row somewhat ease." 
 
 Canto VIII. (51 stanzas). — This new Canto opens 
 with" the following fine lines : — 
 
 w Teaching.
 
 228 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V 
 
 Nought under heaven so strongly cloth allure 
 
 The sense of man, and all his mind possess, 
 
 As Beauty's lovely bait, that doth procure 
 
 Great warriors oft their rigour to repress, 
 
 And mighty hands forget their manliness; 
 
 Drawn with the power of an heart-robbing eye, 
 
 And wrapt in fetters of a golden tress, 
 
 That can with melting pleasance mollify 
 
 Their hardened hearts enured to blood and cruelty. 
 
 So whilome learned that mighty Jewish swain, 
 
 Each of whose locks did match a man in might, 
 
 To lay his spoils before his leman's train : 
 
 So also did that great Oetean knight 
 
 For his love's sake his lion's skin undight ; 
 
 And so did warlike Antony neglect 
 
 The world's whole rule for Cleopatra's sight. 
 
 Such wondrous power hath women's fair aspect 
 
 To captive men, and make them all the world reject. 
 
 Yet can it not detain Artegal from proceeding on the 
 enterprize to which he has devoted himself; but, leaving 
 his love, fair Britomart, he rides forward, Talus only 
 accompanying him. 
 
 So travelling, he chanced far off to heed 
 
 A damsel flying on a palfrey fast 
 
 Before two knights that after her did speed 
 
 With all their power, and her full fiercely chased 
 
 In hope to have her overhent* at last : 
 
 Yet fled she fast, and both them far outwent, 
 
 Carried with wings of fear, like fowl aghast, 
 
 With locks all loose, and raiment all to rent ; 
 
 And ever as she rode her eye was backward bent. 
 
 Presently a third knight appears pursuing the other 
 two, and, while he holds his spear in rest, or ready for 
 attack, urges his horse to its utmost speed. He soon 
 overtakes one of the two and forces him to turn round. 
 Artegal, to whom the lady as soon as she sees him flies 
 for protection, throws himself between her and the other ; 
 and on the encounter the stranger knight is pitched more 
 
 x Overtaken.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 229 
 
 than two spears' length out of his saddle, and, falling on 
 his head, breaks his neck. Meanwhile his companion 
 has been despatched by the third knight; who, however, 
 as soon as he has achieved that good work, dashes for- 
 ward in pursuit of the other pagan, but, meeting Arte- 
 gal, at once attacks him instead, as if he cared not at 
 whom he ran. They have both broken their spears, 
 and then drawn their swords, when the lady runs up, 
 and, crying and tearing her hair, prevails on them to 
 desist by pointing out to them that their two foes, and 
 hers, lie both dead enough on the ground. The stranger 
 knight is Prince Arthur; and he and Artcgal, when 
 they have raised their visors and beheld each other's 
 faces, are struck with reciprocal admiratior and respect, 
 and exchange courteous apologies and pardon s. The 
 lady, whose name turns out to be Samient,, now explains 
 to them (for Arthur knows no more about her and the 
 two slain knights than Artegal does) that she serves a 
 queen residing at no great distance from where they 
 are — 
 
 A princess of great power and majesty, 
 Famous through all the world and honoured far and 
 nigh— 
 
 a Maiden Queen, moreover, her name Mercilla. This 
 is plainly Queen Elizabeth. Among the many enemies 
 who envy and endeavour to disturb the felicity of her 
 realm, and to subvert her crown and dignity, Samient goes 
 on to relate, is her powerful neighbour, the Soldan (sup- 
 posed to mean Philip King of Spain), who is continually 
 either bribing and seducing her good knights, or attack- 
 ing and despoiling them if they loyally resist his allure- 
 ments ; nay, even plotting against and seeking to destroy 
 her sacred person ; being stirred up to all this, it is said, 
 by his bad wife Adicia— by whom must, however, be 
 understood, asTEe name signifies, merely the principle 
 of Injustice as animating and instigating the hostility of 
 the Spanish king. Or perhaps the Roman Catholic re- 
 ligion and interest may be more especially indicated by 
 this female figure. Thinking it best for herself and her 

 
 230 SPKKSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 r.ingdom to deal amicably with Adicia, Mercilla had 
 sent Samient to her to negotiate a peace between them ; 
 but Adicia, disdaining all agreement, and setting at 
 nought the rights and privileges which all times have 
 accorded to ambassadors, not only received her message 
 with the utmost scorn and contumely, but thrust her out 
 of doors like a dog, and, finally, sent after her, to abuse 
 and dishonour her, the two false knights from whom she 
 has just been so providentially delivered. The allusion 
 here is supposed to be to King Philip's detention of the 
 deputies of the States of Holland when they came to him 
 to complain of and to beg the redress of their grievances. 
 On hearing"Ih"Ts relation, the prince and Artegal agree 
 instantly to join in revenging the wrongs of Samient and 
 her mistress on the Soldan and his lady ; but, deeming it 
 prudent not in such a case to despise the aid of tactics, 
 or stratagem, they arrange that Artegal shall array him- 
 self in the armour of one of the dead knights, and, taking 
 Samient with him to present her as his conquered prize 
 to Adicia, find in this way admission into the Soldan's 
 court. Accordingly, as soon as Adicia sees him from 
 her window, she sends a page to conduct him, and he is 
 admitted into the palace, where, however, he declines to 
 allow himself to be disarmed. Presently comes a chal- 
 lenge to the Soldan from the prince, demanding "that 
 damsel whom he held as wrongful prisoner." 
 
 Wherewith the Soldan all with fury fraught, 
 Swearing and banning most blasphemously, 
 Commanded straight his armour to be brought ; 
 And, mounting straight upon a chariot high, 
 (With iron wheels and hooks armed dreadful I3-, 
 And drawn of cruel steeds which he had fed 
 With flesh of men, whom through fell tyranny 
 Ile slaughtered had, and ere they were half dead 
 Their bodies to his beasts for provender did spread), 
 
 So forth he came all in a coat cf plate 
 Burnished with bloody rust. 
 
 This description has been ingeniously interpreted as 
 shadowing forth the f amous Armada. " The Soldan."
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 231 
 
 observes Upton, "is the King of Spain: his sivearing— 
 and banning most blasphemously may be supposed to hint 
 at those many pious cursings, and papistical excommuni- 
 cations, so liberally thundered out against the Queen and 
 her faithful subjects. Next the Soldan is described 
 mounting straight upon a chariot high. Camden more 
 than once mentions the great height of the Spanish ships, 
 built with lofty turrets on their decks like castles. He 
 [Spenser] says, zvith iron wheels and hoo/.s armed dread- 
 ful/?/. The Prince of Parma likewise in the Netherlands 
 built ships, says Camden, and prepared piles sharpened 
 at the nether end, armed with iron and hooked on the 
 sides. Let it be added, however, that 'twas reported 
 that this Armada carried various instruments of torture, 
 and thus literally was so armed. And drawn of cruel 
 steeds which he had fed with flesh of men: What were the 
 captains and soldiers of this Armada but persecutors, or 
 those who acted under the coroW»*id of persecutors, in- 
 quisitors, devourers of men: , There were four engage- 
 ments, the learned con >';■'' "/<•■' further remarks, between 
 the two fleets; and t$F*, &e supposes to be successively 
 imaged in the progress of the fight that fills the remainder 
 of the Canto. 
 
 The Briton prince in his bright armour awaits the 
 Soldan on the green (the commentators have omitted to 
 remark the propriety of this term as indicating the sea, 
 the scene of the real conflict) ; and Talus, so directed by 
 his lord, attends at his stirrup as his page. 
 
 Like to the Thracian tyrant, who they say 
 
 Unto his horses gave his guests for meat, 
 
 Till he himself was made their greedy j 
 
 And torn in pieces by Alcides great; 
 
 So thought the Soldan, in his folly's threat, 
 
 Either the prince in pieces to have torn 
 
 With his sharp wheels in his first rage's heat, 
 
 Or under his fierce horses' feet have bor 
 
 And trampled down in dust his thought's disdained scon:. 
 
 But " the bold child," moving to the side, allows the 
 chariot to fly past, and also dexterously avoids a dart 
 which the pagan throws at him, and which otherwise
 
 232 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 would certainly have demolished either himself or his 
 horse. The elevation, however, on which the Soldan is 
 placed and the speed of his wing-footed coursers for a long 
 time baffle all Arthur's efforts to get a blow at him : and 
 at length the paean lanches at him another of the many 
 darts with which he is provided, when 
 
 The •wicked shaft, guided through the airy wide 
 By some bad spirit that it to mischief bore, 
 Stayed not, till through his curat y it did glide, 
 And made a grisly wound in his enriven side. 
 
 Only more infuriated, the prince redoubles his efforts 
 to get near his adversary, but the rushing chariot still 
 drives him back, and even his good steed, renowned as 
 he is " for noble courage and for hardy race," flies in 
 dread from the carrion-eating horses of the pagan. At 
 last, finding all other methods and forces vain against 
 these animals, Arthur uncovers his shield — for the first 
 time, it has been remarked, that he does so voluntarily 
 in the course of the poem- ~md holds it up full in their 
 view. The effect is mstitJa^^; :— 
 
 Like lightning flash that hath the gazer burned, 
 So did the sight thereof their sense dismay, 
 That back again upon themselves they turned, 
 And with their rider ran perforce away : 
 Ne could the Soldan them from flying stay 
 With reins or wonted rule, as well he knew : 
 Nought feared they what he could do or say, 
 But the only fear that was before their view ; 
 From which like mazed deer dismayfully they flew. 
 
 Fast did they fly as them their feet could bear 
 High over hills, and lowly over dales, 
 As they were followed of their former fear : 
 In vain the pagan bans, and swears, and rails, 
 And back with both his hands unto him hales 
 The resty 1 reins, regarded now no more : 
 lie to them calls and speaks, yet nought avail- ; 
 They hear him not, they have forgot his lore ; 
 But go which way they list : their guide they have 
 iorlore. 
 
 ' Cuirass. * Eestiff.
 
 Canto VIII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 233 
 
 As when the fiery-mouthed steeds, which drew 
 The sun's bright wane to Phaeton's decay, 
 Soon as they did the monstrous Scorpion view 
 With ugly craples" crawling in their way, 
 The dreadful sight did them so sore affray, 
 That their well-knowen courses they forwent ; 
 And, leading the ever burning lamp astray, 
 This lower world nigh all to ashes brent, 
 And left their scorched path yet in the firmament : 
 
 Such was the fury of these headstrong steeds, 
 Soon as the infant's sunlike shield they saw, 
 That all obedience both to words and deeds 
 They quite forgot, and scorned all former law. 
 Through woods, and rocks, and mountains they did dra*7 
 The iron chariot, and the wheels did tear, 
 And tossed the paynim without fear or awe ; 
 From side to side they tossed him here and there, 
 Crying to them in vain that nould his crying hear. 
 
 Yet still the prince pursued him close behind, 
 
 Oft making offer him to smite, but found 
 
 No easy means according to his mind : 
 
 At last they have all overthrown to ground 
 
 Quite topside turvy, and the pagan hound 
 
 Amongst the iron hooks and graples keen 
 
 Torn all to rags, and rent with many a wound ; 
 
 That no whole piece of him was to be seen, 
 
 But scattered all about, and strewed upon the green. 
 
 Like as the cursed son of Theseus, 
 
 That following his chase in dewy morn, 
 
 To fly his stepdame's love outrageous, 
 
 Of his own steeds was all to pieces torn, 
 
 And his fair limbs left in the woods forlorn ; 
 
 That for his sake Diana did lament, 
 
 And all the woody nymphs did wail and mourn : 
 
 So was this Soldan rapt and all to rent, 
 
 That of his shape appeared no little moniment. 
 
 The conquest of the Soldan lias therefore been 
 achieved only by supernatural means. Have we not 
 IrcTU 11 covert acknowledgment that the defeat of the Ar- 
 
 a Claws.
 
 234 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 mada was in truth the work rather of the tempest than of 
 any human exertion — as it was expressed on the medal 
 struck at the time with the inscription Flavit Jehovah et 
 dissipati sunt (Jehovah blew and they were scattered) ? 
 Only the tyrant's shield and armour are left, which, 
 that they may 
 
 remain for an eternal token 
 
 To all, mongst whom this story should be spoken, 
 How worthily, by Heaven's high decree, 
 Justice that day of wrong herself had wrokcn, 
 
 the prince orders to be suspended on a tree before the 
 door of their late vanquished owner. At this sign 
 Adicia, burning to be revenged, come s runnin g down 
 from the castle with knife in hand, designing to plunge 
 it info ''the heart of Samient, whom she thinks secure in 
 the keeping of her own knight ; — 
 
 Like imaging Ino, when with knife in hand 
 
 She threw her husband's murdered infant out ; 
 
 Or fell Medea, when on Colchic strand 
 
 Her brother's bones she scattered all about ; 
 
 Or as that madding mother, mongst the rout 
 
 Of Bacchus' priests, her own dear flesh did tear : 
 
 Yet neither Ino, nor Medea stout, 
 
 Nor all the Mcenades so furious were, 
 
 As this bold woman when she saw that damsel there. 
 
 When she is stopped, and the weapon wrested from 
 her, by Artcgal, she rushes from the place in ungovern- 
 able frenzy, and, breaking forth by a postern door, 
 makes for the woods, where it is said she was soon after 
 transformed to a tigress. Meanwhile, Artegal, disco- 
 vering himself, has attacked and put to utter rout all the 
 followers of the Soldan, although there were of them 
 " nigh an hundred knights of name ;" after which he 
 commands the gates to be opened wide, when the prince 
 enters in triumph, and takes possession as the Soldan's 
 conqueror of all the immense treasure and spoil found 
 within the castle. 
 
 Canto IX. (50 stanzas).— Adicia, as has been said,
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 235 
 
 has fled to the woods, and been metamorphosed into a 
 
 tiger; but 
 
 What tiger, or what other salvage wight, 
 
 Is so exceeding furious and fell 
 
 As Wrong, when it -hath armed itself with Might ? 
 
 Not fit mongst men that do with reason mell, 
 
 But mongst wild beasts, and salvage woods, to dwell ; 
 
 Where still the stronger doth the weak devour, 
 
 And thev that most in boldness do excel 
 
 Are dreuued most, and feared for their power : 
 
 Fit for Adicia there to build her wicked bower. 
 
 Meanwhile Prince Arthur and Sir Artegal, after having 
 solaced themselves for a space in the Soldan's palace, 
 resolve to leave both it and the wealth therein contained 
 in charge of the damsel Samient for her mistress Queen 
 Merciria. and to proceed on their way ; but Samient 
 induces them first to accompany her to that renowned 
 princess, whose abode is not far distant. On their road 
 thither she informs them that the neighbourhood is in- 
 fested by " a wicked villain bold and stout," who lives 
 not far oft* in a rocky cavern, whither he brings home 
 all his pillage, and there stows it away beyond the pos- 
 sibility of recapture. 
 
 Thereto both his own wily wit, she said, 
 And eke the fastness of his dwelling place, 
 Both unassailable, gave him great aid : 
 For he so crafty was to forge and face, 
 So light of hand, and nimble of his pace, 
 So smooth of tongue, and subtile in his tale, 
 That could deceive one looking in his face : 
 Therefore by name Malengin they him call, 
 Well knowen by his fSatS, and famous over all. 
 
 Through these his sleights he many doth confound : 
 
 And eke the rock, in which he wonts to dwell, 
 
 Is wondrous strong and hewn far under ground, 
 
 A dreadful depth, how deep no man can tell ; 
 
 But some do say it goeth down to hell ; 
 
 And, all within, it full of windings is 
 
 And hidden ways, that scarce an hound by smell 
 
 Can follow out those false footsteps of his, 
 
 INe none can back return that once are gone amiss.
 
 236 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [l$ook V. 
 
 He is called Guile in the argument at the head o_f the 
 Canto. When the knights have heard this account, they 
 eagerly request Samient to conduct them at once to the 
 villain's dwelling-place : they will not, they declare, 
 move one footstep farther on their road to the court of 
 Queen Mercilla till they have abated that nuisance. 
 She accordingly brings them within sight of the rock, 
 and then they arrange that the maid shall first advance 
 alone to near the mouth of the den, and there sit down, 
 
 Wailing, and raising pitiful uproar, 
 
 As if she did some great calamity deplore ; 
 
 that the noise may bring out the caitiff. This device 
 has the expected effect : Malengin soon shows himself, 
 and an uncouth sight he is, with his deep-set hollow 
 eyes, his long shaggy locks rolling down over his 
 shoulders, his garments of the strangest cut and material, 
 and all worn and in tatters ; 
 
 And in his hand a huge long staff he held, 
 
 Whose top was armed with many an iron hook, 
 
 Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld, 
 
 Or in the compass of his clutches took ; 
 
 And ever round about he cast his look ; 
 
 Als a at his back a great wide net he bore, 
 
 With which he seldom fished at the brook, 
 
 But used to fish for fools on the dry shore, 
 
 Of which he in fair weather wont to take great store. 
 
 The damsel is considerably alarmed when she finds the 
 monster at her side, and calls aloud for help ; 
 
 But, when the villain saw her so afraid, 
 
 He gan with guileful words her to persuade 
 
 To banish fear; and with Sardonian smile 
 
 Laughing on her, his false intent to shade, 
 
 Gan forth to lay his bait her to beguile, 
 
 That from herself unwares he might her steal the while. 
 
 Like as the fowler on his guileful pipe 
 Charms to the birds full many a pleasant lay, 
 
 a A.lso.
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 237 
 
 That they the whiles may take less heedy keep 
 How he his nets doth for their ruin lay, 
 So did the villain to her prate and play, 
 And many pleasant tricks before her show, 
 To turn her eyes from his intent away ; 
 For he in sleights and juggling feats did flow, 
 And of legerdemain the mysteries did know. 
 
 To which whilst she lent her intentive mind, 
 He suddenly his net upon her threw, 
 That overspread her like a puff of wind ; 
 And snatching her soon up, ere well she knew 
 Ran with her fast away unto his mew, 
 Crying for help aloud. 
 
 But when he comes to the entrance of the cave, and 
 there sees the two knights, he throws down his burthen 
 and takes to flight. 
 
 But Artegal him after did pursue ; 
 
 The whiles the prince there kept the entrance still : 
 
 Up to the rock he ran, and thereon flew 
 
 Like a wild goat, leaping from hill to hill, 
 
 And dancing on the craggy cliffs at will ; 
 
 That deadly danger seemed in all men's sight 
 
 To tempt such steps, where footing was so ill : 
 
 Ne ought availed for the armed knight 
 
 To think to follow him that was so swift and light. 
 
 In this emergency the never- failing Talus is called in, 
 and, pursuing him with steps as adventurous as his own, 
 and still more agile, soon forces him to come down 
 again to the plain. Nor does he do more than protract 
 his fate for a very brief space by a series of expedients 
 to which he now has recourse, ingenious enough to have 
 puzzled and baffled any other than the iron man : — 
 
 Into a fox himself he first did turn ; 
 But he him hunted like a fox full fast : 
 Then to a bush himself he did transform ; 
 But he the bush did beat, till that at last 
 Into a bird it changed, and from him passed. 
 Flying from tree to tree, from wand to wand : 
 But he then stones at it so long did cast,
 
 -38 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 That like a stone it fell upon the land ; 
 
 But he then took it up, and held fast in his hand. 
 
 So he it brought with him unto the knights, 
 
 And to his lord Sir Artegal it lent, 
 
 Warning him hold it fast for fear of sleights : 
 
 Who whilst in hand it griping hard he hent, b 
 
 Into a hedgehog all unwares it went, 
 
 And pricked him so that he away it threw ; 
 
 Then gan it run away incontinent, 
 
 Being returned to his former hue ; 
 
 But Talus soon him overtook, and backward drew. 
 
 But, whenas he would to a snake again 
 Have turned himself, he with his iron flail 
 Gan drive at him with so huge might and main, 
 That all his bones as small as sandy grail c 
 He broke, and did his bowels disentrail, 
 Crying in vain for help, when help was past ; 
 So did deceit the self-deceiver fail : 
 There they him left a carrion outcast 
 For beasts and fowls to feed upon for their repast. 
 
 The two knights now proceed " with that gentle 
 maid " on their road to the court of her royal mistress ; — 
 
 To which when she approached, thus she said ; 
 " Lo now, right noble knights, arrived ye be 
 Nigh to the place which ye desired to see : 
 There shall ye se e my sovereign lady queen. 
 Most sacrecl wight, most debonaire and free, 
 That ever yet upon this earth was seen, 
 Or that with diadem hath ever crowned been." 
 
 Arriving at the palace, they find it to be 
 
 Of pompous show, much more than she had told, 
 With many towers and tarras d mounted high, 
 And all their tops bright glistering with gold, 
 That seemed to outshine the dimmed sky, 
 And with their brightness dazed the strange beholder's 
 eye. 
 
 A magnificent porch stands " open wide to all men day 
 b Held, grasped. c Gravel. d Terraces.
 
 1 
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRT QUEEN. 239 
 
 and night," yet guarded by a gigantic figure, to keep 
 out Guile and Maiice and other such mischief-makers 
 too apt to intrude into princes' courts : — 
 
 His name was Awe ; by whom they passing in 
 Went up the hall, that was a large wide room, 
 All full of people making troublous din 
 And wondrous noise, as if that there were some e 
 Which unto them was dealing righteous doom : 
 By whom they passing through the thickest press, 
 The marshal of the hall to them did come, 
 His name bight Order ; who, commanding peace, 
 Them guided through the throng, that did their clamours 
 cease. 
 
 They ceased their clamours upon them to gaze •, 
 Whom seeing all in armour bright as day, 
 Strange there to see, it did them much amaze, 
 And with unwonted terror half affray : 
 For never saw they there the like array ; 
 Ne ever was the name of war there spoken, 
 But joyous peace and quietness alway 
 Dealing just judgments, that mote not be broken 
 For any bribes, or threats of any to be wroken. 
 
 As they enter they see, at the screen in the hall, one 
 with his tongue nailed to a post, having been adjudged 
 by law to suffer that punishment for foul blasphemy 
 committed by him against the queen, 
 
 Both with bold speeches which he blazed had, 
 
 And with lewd poems which he did compile ; 
 
 For the bold title of a poet bad 
 
 He on himself had ta'en, and railing rhymes had sprad. f 
 
 Over his head is written " the purport of his sin in 
 cyphers strange :" Bonfont (or Fountain of Good) the 
 name had originally been, but it has been altered into 
 Malfont (Fountain of Evil). Passing on they are 
 brought at length into the presence of that gracious 
 queen ; 
 
 Who sate on high, that she might all men see 
 And might of all men royally be seen, 
 
 Some one. f Spread.
 
 '240 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Upon a throne of gold full bright and sheen 
 Adorned all with gems of endless price, 
 As either might for wealth have gotten been, 
 Or could be framed by workman's rare device ; 
 And all embossed with lions and with flourdelice. 
 
 All over her a cloth of state was spread, 
 Not of rich tissue, nor of cloth of gold, 
 Nor of ought else that may be richest read, 
 But like a cloud, as likest may be told, 
 That her broad-spreading wings did wide unfold : 
 Whose skirts were bordered with bright sunny beams, 
 Glistring like gold among the plights s enrolled, 
 And here and there shooting forth silver streams, 
 Mongst which crept little angels through the glittering 
 gleams. 
 
 Seemed those little angels did uphold 
 
 The cloth of state, and on their purpled wings 
 
 Did bear the pendants through their nimbless 1 ' bold ; 
 
 Besides, a thousand more of such as sings 
 
 Hymns to high God, and carols heavenly things, 
 
 Encompassed the throne on which she sate ; 
 
 She, angel-like, the heir of ancient kings 
 
 And mighty conquerors, in royal state ; 
 
 Whilst kings and kesars at her feet did them prostrate. 
 
 In her hand she holds a sceptre, pledge of the peace 
 and clemency " with which high God had blessed her 
 happy land ;" at her feet lies her sword, the steel rusted 
 from long rest ; 
 
 Yet when as foes enforced, or friends sought aid, 
 She could it sternly draw that all the world dismayed. 
 
 And round about before her feet there sate 
 
 A bevy of fair virgins clad in white, 
 
 That goodly seemed to adorn her royal state. 
 
 These are the Litse (or Prayers), the lovely daughters 
 of high Jove by the righteous Themis : 
 
 Those, they say, 
 
 Upon Love's judgment-seat wait day and night; 
 And, when in wrath he threats the world's decay, 
 They do his anger calm and cruel vengeance stay. 
 
 s Plaits, folds, h Nimbleness.
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 241 
 
 They also do, by his divine permission, 
 Upon the thrones of mortal princes tend, 
 And often treat for pardon and remission 
 To suppliants, through frailty which offend ; 
 Those did upon Mercilla's throne attend, 
 Just Dice, wise Eunomie, mild Eirene ; 
 And them amongst, her glory to commend, 
 Sate goodly Temperance in garments clean, 
 And sacred Reverence yborn of heavenly strene.. 
 
 Underneath the queen's feet lies a huge lion, so tightly 
 bound with a strong iron chain that he cannot move ; 
 all he can do when his savage choler rises is to utter a 
 rebellious murmur or slight growl. 
 
 On the two knights approaching her with lowly reve- 
 rence, Mercilla also, inclining her head, 
 
 A cheerful countenance on them let fall, 
 Yet tempered with some majesty imperial. 
 
 It chances that at the moment she is engaged in the 
 administration of justice ; and the commencement of the 
 trial of a great and weighty case has been suspended by 
 their entrance. After they have been presented the 
 hearing of this important cause is resumed; and, that 
 they may the better understand the proceedings, she 
 places them on the throne beside her, the one on her 
 right hand and the other on her left. 
 
 Then was there brought, as prisoner to the bar, 
 
 A lady of great countenance and place, 
 
 But that she it with foul abuse did mar ; 
 
 Yet did appear rare beauty in her face, 
 
 But blotted with condition vile and base, 
 
 That all her other honour did obscure, 
 
 And titles of nobility deface : 
 
 Yet, in that wretched semblant, she did sure 
 
 The people's great compassion unto her allure. 
 
 This proves to be no other than our old acquaintance, 
 the witch Duessa ; but the charges brough. her, 
 
 and all the other circumstances, clearly point at Mary of 
 Scotland. First there rises up " a person of dee}) reach 
 
 ' Descent. 
 
 VOE. II.
 
 2-42 SBKNSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 and rare insight," named Zeal, who, with powerful 
 eloquence, begins to accuse the lady of many heinous 
 crimes, and with sharp reasons rings her such a peal that 
 even many who had been allured to pity her have their 
 compassion changed to abhorrence and loathing while 
 they listen to his oration. She is not now, he states," 
 brought into question on account of the many knights 
 she has in former times beguiled and abused, but for 
 treason more recently wrought by her against the dread 
 Mercilla : 
 
 For she whilome (as ye mote yet right well 
 
 Remember) had her counsels false conspired 
 
 With faithless Blandamour and Paridel, 
 
 (Both two her paramours, both by her hired, 
 
 And both with hope of shadows vain inspired), 
 
 And with them practised, how for to deprive 
 
 Mercilla of her crown, by her aspired, 
 
 That she might it unto herself derive, 
 
 And triumph in their blood whom she to death did drive. 
 
 Paridel, it has been already stated, represents the Earl 
 of Westmoreland ; his friend Blandamour — designated 
 in the First Canto of the Fourth Book "the hotspur 
 youth," as if in allusion to the well-known surname of 
 young Harry Percy in the time of Henry the Fourth 
 — if*cTtsrTy~irom ' This passage to be taken to stand for 
 the „Farl of Northumberland; the other leader of the 
 northern insurrection of 1 569. But through the grace 
 of heaven, Zeal goes on to say, that wicked plot had 
 failed, and its contrivers had met with the reward meet 
 for their crimes ; and here was the false Duessa, " now 
 untitled Queen" (this expression is very remarkable and 
 conclusive), brought also to receive the judgment she 
 deserved. After Zeal has enforced his argument with 
 much more reasoning to the same effect, many othei 
 grave persons also appear to plead and give evidence 
 against the prisoner : — 
 
 First was a sage old sire, that had to name 
 The Kingdom's Care, with a white silver head, 
 That many high regards and reasons gainst her read. 
 
 This, no doubt, is Burgbley.
 
 Canto IX.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 243 
 
 Then gan Authority her to oppose 
 
 With peremptory power, that made all mute ; 
 
 And then the Law of Nations gainst her rose, 
 
 And reasons brought, that no man could refute ; 
 
 Next gan Religion gainst her to impute 
 
 High God's behest, and power of holy laws ; 
 
 Then gan the People's Cry and Commons' Suit 
 
 Importune care of their own public cause ; 
 
 And lastly Justice charged her with breach of laws. 
 
 But then, for her, on the contrary part, 
 
 Rose many advocates for her to plead : 
 
 First there came Pity with full tender heart, 
 
 And with her joined Regard of Womanhead ; 
 
 And then came Danger threatening hidden dread 
 
 And high alliance unto foreign power; 
 
 Then came Nobility of Birth, that bred 
 
 Great ruth through her misfortunes' tragic stour ; 
 
 And lastly Grief did plead, and many tears forth pour. 
 
 Here we are told that the Briton prince was for a mo« 
 ment touched with compassion for the fallen queen, 
 
 And wox inclined much unto her part, 
 Through the sad terror of so dreadful fate, 
 And wretched ruin of so high estate. 
 
 It has been supposed that Spenser designed Prince 
 Arthur, in part at least, for a representation of his patron 
 the Earl of Leicester ; and Leicester was at one time 
 thought to be inclined to support the party of the Queen 
 of Scots. When Zeal, however, perceives the prince 
 thus relenting in the prisoner's favour, he brings forward 
 new evidence and new charges. First he calls Duessa's 
 old accomplice Ate, who, " glad of spoil and ruinous 
 decay," readily makes a full statement of " all her 
 trains and all her treasons :" — 
 
 Then brought he forth with grisly grim aspect 
 Abhorred Murder, who with bloody knife 
 Yet dropping fresh in hand did her detect, 
 And there with guilty bloodshed charged rife: 
 Then brought he forth Sedition, breeding strife 
 In troublous wits and mutinous uproar : 
 Then brought he forth Incontinence of life 
 Even foul Adultery, her face before, 
 And lewd Impiety, that her accused sore.
 
 24-1 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 The result is that the Prince's compassion is quite extin- 
 guished ; Artegal, for his part, with his strong instinct 
 of justice, has been firmly set against her from the first ; 
 so that she is unanimously held to be guilty. Zeal then 
 urges her punishment, and loudly calls upon the mild 
 Mercilla for judgment. But she, although she cannot 
 conceal from herself that the prisoner deserves to die, is 
 too much affected with pity to let just vengeance light 
 on her ; she rather, we are informed, 
 
 let, instead thereof, to fall 
 
 Few pearling drops from her fair lamps of light; 
 The which she covering with her purple pall 
 Would have the passion hid, and up arose withal. 
 
 Canto X. (3Q stanzas). — This new Canto the poet 
 opens as follows :— 
 
 Some clerks do doubt in their deviceful art 
 
 Whether this heavenly thing whereof I treat, 
 
 To weeten Mercy, be of Justice part, 
 
 Or drawn forth from her by divine extreat : J 
 
 This well I wote, that sure she is as great, 
 
 And meriteth to have as high a place, 
 
 Sith in the Almighty's everlasting seat 
 
 She first was bred, and born of heavenly race ; 
 
 From thence poured down on men by influence of grace. 
 
 For, if that virtue be of so great might 
 Which from just verdict will for nothing start,' 
 But, to preserve inviolated right, 
 Oft spills the principal to save the part ; 
 So much more then is that of power and art 
 That seeks to save the subject of her skill, 
 Yet never doth from doom of right depart ; 
 As it is gi-eater praise to save than spill, 
 And better to reform than to cut off the ill. 
 
 These lines are introductory to a further celebration of 
 the clemency of Mercilla in declining to take the life of 
 Duessa 
 
 Till strong constraint did her thereto enforce ; 
 And yet even then rueing her wilful fall 
 
 j Extract.
 
 Canto X.J THE FAIRY QUEEN. 245 
 
 With more than needful natural remorse, 
 
 And yielding the last honour to her wretched corse. 
 
 While Arthur and Artegal, delighted and filled with 
 admiration, both by what they see of her general go- 
 vernment, and by the particular courtesies and favours of 
 which they are themselves the objects, still tarry at 
 Mercilla's court, there arrive two youths from a foreign 
 country to implore her succour for their mother, a 
 widow, who is kept in great dolour and fear by a strong 
 tyrant, by whom her iand has been invaded, and the 
 greater number of her children slain : — 
 
 Her name was Beige ; who, in former age 
 
 A lady of great worth and wealth had been, 
 
 And mother of a fruitful heritage, 
 
 Even seventeen goodly sons ; which who had seen 
 
 In their first flower, before this fatal teen 
 
 Them overtook and their fair blossoms blasted, 
 
 More happy mother would her surely ween 
 
 Than famous Niobe, before she tasted 
 
 Latona's children's wrath that all her issue wasted. 
 
 But now, of all that numerous brood, the tyrant had left 
 her only five, having devoured the other twelve, and 
 sacrificed their blood to his idols. Beige, with her 
 seventeen sons, is obviously the country of t he Nethe r- 
 lands^^anciently the habitation 'nf the Belg;e ; of the 
 seventeen provinces of which five, namely, Holland, 
 Zealand, Utrecht, Guelderland, and Friesland, declared 
 themselves independent in 1579 by the celebrated Union 
 of Utrecht (afterwards joined in 1580 by Overyssel, and 
 in 1594 by Groningen). The tyrant by whom Beige is 
 oppressed is, of course, Philip II. of Spain. " Soothly,'" 
 we are told, 
 
 he was one of matchless might, 
 
 Of horrible aspect and dreadful mood, 
 
 And had three bodies in one waste empight, 
 
 And the arms and legs of three to succour him in fight. 
 
 The allusion here may be to Philip's triple dominion 
 over. Spain, the Netherlands, and Portuga l. But his 
 
 lather, it is added, had also " three bodies' power in one
 
 246 SPENSER AND KIS POETRY. [Book V, 
 
 combined," and this, we may presume, must refer to the 
 union in the Emperor Charles V. of the three sovereign- 
 tIes~T5f "Spain, the Netherlands, and Germany. It is 
 strange that these striking points in the allegory should 
 have "been overlooked by the commentators. His three 
 bodies and his dominion of Spain together naturally lead 
 the poet to identify Charles with the old giant Geryon. 
 The tyrant under whom the widow Beige suffered was, 
 he further tells us, of the race of the giants, being the 
 son of that same Geryon who had formerly oppressed 
 Spain, and by whom all strangers arriving in that coun- 
 try used to be given as food to his kine — " the fairest 
 kine alive, but of the fiercest kind." For they were all, 
 it is said, purple coloured, and were under the charge of 
 a cruel and murderous herdsman called Eurytion, who 
 never slept either by day or by night, but walked about 
 tending them continually with his two-headed dog 
 Orthrus, the monstrous progeny of Typhaon and the 
 foul Echidna: " but Hercules them all did overcome in 
 fight." Geryon's son, named Geryoneo, after his father 
 fell " under Alcides' club," straightway fled from that 
 sad land, and 
 
 came to this, where Beige then did dwell 
 
 And flourish in all wealth and happiness, 
 
 Being then new made widow, as befell, 
 
 After her noble husband's late decease ; 
 
 Which gave beginning to her woe and wretchedness. 
 
 This Upton interprets as describing the state of Beige 
 " when the Spaniards had subverted the liberties of the 
 States after the assassination of the Prince of Orange." 
 But the words evidently do not refer to any assassina- 
 tion, any more than they do to the time (1584) when 
 the Prince of Orange was assassinated. Beige's noble 
 husband must be Charles the Bold, the last Duke of 
 Burirnndy, slain in 1477, the marriage of whose daughter 
 with Maximilian of Austria brought the Netherlands into 
 the possession of that foreign house. The poet goes on to 
 relate that Geryoneo (here to be understood as meaning 
 the House of Austria generally) in the first instance
 
 *CantO X.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 247 
 
 offered himself and was accepted by Beige as her cham- 
 pion to defend her against all foreign foes ; that for a 
 long time he executed that office faithfully, so that at 
 last she committed everything to his hands, " anil gave 
 him sovereign power to do whatever he thought good or 
 fit ;" and that then he began 
 
 To stir up strife and many a tragic stour ; 
 Giving her dearest children one by one 
 Unto a dreadful monster to devour, 
 And setting up an idol of his own. 
 The image of his monstrous parent Geryon. 
 
 The dreadful monster is plainly, as pointed out by the 
 commentators, the In quisitio n, sj t 1141 in the Netherlands 
 by Philip under the government of the Duke of Alva : 
 but the Tastiine - is~evidently to be further explained as 
 designating the Popish religion by a reference to the 
 triple crown of the Roman pontiff. The two youths 
 whom the widow sends to Mercilla may perhaps have a 
 special reference, as has been suggested, to the Marqui i 
 of Hauree and Adolph Metkerk, who were deputed to 
 Elizabetir~T)ythe United States in 1577; but it is not 
 necessary to consider the matter so literally ; they are 
 called by the poet Beige's two eldest sons, the most 
 natural ambassadors for her to employ in her circum- 
 stances. When they present their suit Prince Arthur 
 chances to be present, and seeing that none of the other 
 knights seems inclined to offer himself, he steps forward. 
 " admired of all the rest in presence there," and entreats 
 the Queen to grant, him the adventure of going against 
 Geryoneo. Here at least we seem to have the Briton 
 Prince manifestly representing the Earl of Leicester, 
 whose appointment in 1585 as Captain-General of the 
 forces in the Netherlands, and his conduct in that post 
 throughout the two following years, make so principal a 
 passage of his history. Arthur sets out on his expedition 
 the very next morning, with i- those two gentle youths" 
 as his guides., and soon arrives 
 
 Within the land where dwelt that lady sad ; 
 Whereof that tyrant had her now deprived,
 
 248 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 And into moors and marshes banished had, 
 Out of the pleasant soil and cities glad, 
 In which she wont to harbour happily : 
 
 words pointing to the geographical situation of the in- 
 surgent provinces as compared with that of the others 
 which remained in subjection to Spain. Beige is in 
 such a state of grief and distraction that the sight of the 
 armed knight at first alarms her ; but on seeing her sons 
 she knows that he is come to help her, and, falling on 
 tbeir necks as they kneel before her, and bursting into 
 tears, " Ah, my sweet boys," she says, 
 
 " now I gin new life to feel ; 
 
 And feeble spirits, that gan faint and reel, 
 
 Now rise again at this your joyous sight. 
 
 Already seems that fortune's headlong wheel 
 
 Begins to turn, and sun to shine more bright 
 
 Than it was wont, through comfort of this noble knight." 
 
 Arthur would have her leave her present miserable 
 abode and go with him to some place where they might 
 have rest and refreshment. 
 
 " Ay me !" said she, " and whither shall I go ? 
 
 Are not all places full of foreign powers? 
 
 My palaces possessed of my foe, 
 
 My cities sacked, and their sky-threatening towers 
 
 Razed and made smooth fields now full of flowers ? 
 
 Only these marishes and miry bogs, 
 
 In which the fearful ewfts 1 do build their bowers, 
 
 Yield me an hostry" 1 mongst the croaking frogs, 
 
 And harbour here in safety from those ravenous dogs." 
 
 " Nathless," said he, " dear lady, with me go ; 
 Some place shall us receive and harbour yield ; 
 If not, we will it force, maugre your foe, 
 And purchase it to us with spear and shield : 
 And, if all fail, yet farewell" open field ! 
 The earth to all her creatures lodging lends." 
 With such his cheerful speeches he doth wield 
 
 1 Efts, or newts. m Hostelry, or inn. 
 
 ™ Well betide, welcome.
 
 Canto X.] THE FAIKY QUEEX. 249 
 
 Her mind so well, that to his will she bends ; 
 
 And, binding up her locks and weeds, forth with him 
 wends. 
 They journey on till they come to a city, apparently 
 Antwerp (where the Duke of Alva built a citadel) " the 
 which "whilome that lady's own had been," but which 
 has now been taken from her by her foe, who has shut 
 uj> its haven and ruined the trade of its merchants, and 
 has also set upon its neck a strong castle by which it is 
 completely commanded and kept in subjection. He has 
 also made it " bear the yoke of Inquisition,"' 
 
 And forced it the honour that is due 
 
 To God to do unto his idol most untrue. 
 
 To him he hath before this castle green 
 
 Built a fair chapel, and an altar framed 
 
 Of costly ivory full rich beseen, 
 
 On which that cursed idol, far proclaimed, 
 
 He hath set up, and him his god hath named ; 
 
 Offering to him in sinful sacrifice 
 
 The flesh of men, to God's own likeness framed, 
 
 And pouring forth their blood in brutish wise, 
 
 That any iron eyes, to see, it would agrize. 
 
 And, for more horror and more cruelty, 
 
 Under that cursed idol's altar-stone 
 
 An hideous monster doth in darkness lie, 
 
 Whose dreadful shape was never seen of none 
 
 That lives on earth ; but unto those alone 
 
 The which unto him sacrificed be : 
 
 Those he devours, they say, both flesh and bone ; 
 
 What else they have is all the tyrant's fee : 
 
 So that no whit of them remaining one may see. 
 
 Finally, the tyrant has placed in the conquered city a 
 strong garrison commanded by a seneschal of the mos: 
 merciless temper and of eminent military skill. Beige 
 would have the prince to shun the place, but. her dissua- 
 sions have no effect on him ; he rides straight up to the 
 wall of the castle, and desires the warder to call the 
 seneschal forth. The latter at once accepts the chal- 
 lenge ; they encounter "in the middle plain;'" the 
 seneschal's spear can find no entrance into the prince's 
 
 ° Horrify.
 
 250 SPENSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 shield, " so pure the metal was and well refined ;" but 
 Arthur's makes to itself ready passage not only through his 
 adversary's shield, but also " through his habergeon and 
 eke his horse." But as he marches up to try if he can find 
 entrance into the castle, after having thus slain its master, 
 three knights all armed to point issue forth, and ride 
 against him all at once. He receives their three spears 
 on his shield as firmly as if he were a bulwark, not 
 swerving in his saddle the least aside ; and not only so, 
 but tranfixes the middle one on his own spear and hurls 
 him lifeless to the ground. The other two immediately 
 turn and take to flight ; but Arthur, pursuing them, 
 overtakes them as they reach the gate of the fort, and 
 slays the one on the threshold, the other at the screen 
 (or inner door). All the other persons that are in the 
 castle then make their escape by a postern gate ; and the 
 victorious Briton prince conducts Beige and her two sons 
 into the place, 
 
 Where all that night themselves they cherished, 
 And from her baleful mind all care he banished. 
 
 Canto XI. (65 stanzas). — When news is brought to 
 Geryoneo that the Lady Beige has f ound a cjiam pion, and 
 that his seneschal has been slain", he instantly arms himself, 
 and, setting out with his retinue, comes and marches up 
 and down before the gate of the castle where Prince Arthur 
 is, and with much vaunting and menace calls upon him to 
 deliver him his own. The prince does not keep hirn 
 waiting long, but, coming forth to him, " full nobly 
 mounted in right warlike wise," asks if he be the same 
 who has done the Lady Beige all that wrong ? 
 
 He boldly answered him, he there did stand 
 That would his doings justify with his own hand. 
 
 With that so furiously at him he flew, 
 
 As if he would have over-run him straight ; 
 
 And with his huge great iron axe gan hew 
 
 So hideously upon his armour bright, 
 
 As he to pieces would have chopped it quite ; 
 
 That the bold prince was forced foot to give 
 
 To his first rage, and yield to his despite ; 
 
 The whilst at him so dreadfully he drive, 
 
 That seemed a marble rock asunder could have rive.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 25] 
 
 His three sets of hands and arms give Geryoneo, of 
 course, a considerable advantage, enabling him. as he sees 
 occasion, to shift his weapon from hand to hand and from 
 side to side, and to strike his enemy in front, in flank, and 
 from the rear, as he chooses. After he has several 
 times performed this operation, however, the prince, as 
 he is trying it again, meets him with a countcrstroke so 
 swift as to smite the uplifted arm off altogether. The 
 infuriated monster then grasps his axe in all his five re- 
 maining hands at once* and, heaving them on high, 
 comes down with what he intends for an annihilating 
 blow ; but it luckily falls short of the prince, and only 
 wounds his horse's head. The giant, seeing his adver- 
 sary now reduced to fight on foot, is stated to have 
 thereat 
 
 laughed so loud, that all his teeth -wide bare 
 
 One might have seen enranged disorderly, 
 Like to a rank of piles that pitched are awry. 
 
 Another tremendous stroke of the axe is only pre- 
 vented from cleaving Arthur in twain by his dexterous 
 interposition of his adamantine shield before it has come 
 quite down upon him. In return, however, he deals the 
 giant such a blow, or rather furious succession of blows, 
 that two more of his arms drop from him. 
 With that all mad and furious he grew, 
 Like a fell mastiff through enraging heat, 
 And cursed, and banned, and blasphemies forth threw 
 Against his gods, and tire to them did threat. 
 And hell unto himself with horror great : 
 Thenceforth he cared no more which way he strook, 
 Nor where it light ; but gan to chafe and sweat. 
 And gnashed his teeth, and his head at him shook, 
 And sternly him beheld with grim and ghastly look. 
 
 In this mad and reckless condition he soon gives " the 
 child" an opportunity of sending his sword, byaremark- 
 ably fortunate thrust, not only through one of his bodies 
 bin' through all three ; and he rolls on the ground a 
 senseless lump, 
 
 biting the earth for very Death's disdain ; 
 
 Who, with a cloud of night him covering, hore 
 Down to the house of dole, his days there to deplore.
 
 252 SPENSER A>D HIS POETRY. [Hook V. 
 
 When this is seen by the Lady Beige, who with her 
 two sons has been all the while looking on from the 
 castle, as have " all the people both of town and land" 
 from the city wall, she runs down, and, prostrating her- 
 self with her boys before her victorious champion's feet, 
 " in all that people's sight" — 
 
 Mongst joys mixing some tears, mongst weal some woe, 
 
 —returns him fervent thanks, and would have him accept 
 for his own the realm his valour, has saved ; but, taking 
 her up by the lily hand the magnanimous prince assures 
 her that it is the justice of her cause that has fought for 
 her that day, and that for any service he has rendered he 
 accounts the consciousness of having rendered it suffi- 
 cient reward. She then requests of him that he will not 
 lay down his victorious arms till he has completed his 
 good work, and informs him that there stands in the 
 neighbouring church a famous idol devised and set up 
 by the late giant, to which he was wont to offer up her 
 children "and her people in daily sacrifice, consuming 
 them by fire with all the tortures he could invent ; and 
 that 
 
 underneath this idol there doth lie 
 
 An hideous monster, that doth it defend, 
 
 And feeds on all the carcases that die 
 
 In sacrifice unto that cursed fiend : 
 
 Whose ugly shape none ever saw, nor kenned, 
 
 That ever scaped. 
 
 The prince, on hearing this, ajrain takes his arms and 
 shield, and proceeds to the church. 
 
 There he that idol saw of massy gold 
 
 Most richly made, but there no monster did behold. 
 
 Upon the image with his naked blade 
 Three times, as in defiance, there lie strook ; 
 And the third time, out of an hidden shade 
 There forth issued from under the altar's smook 
 A dreadful fiend with foul deformed look, 
 That stretched itself as it had long lain still ; 
 And her long tail and feathers strongly shook, 
 That all the temple did with terror fill; 
 Yet himliought terrified, that feared nothiug ill.
 
 Canto XL] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 253 
 
 An huge great beast it was, when it in length 
 
 Was stretched forth, that nigh filled all the place, 
 
 And seemed to be of infinite great strength ; 
 
 Horrible, hideous, and of hellish race, 
 
 liorn of the brooding of Echidna base, 
 
 Or other like infernal fury's kind : 
 
 For of a maid she had the outward face, 
 
 To hide the horror which did lurk behind, 
 
 The better to beguile whom she so fond did find. 
 
 Thereto the body of a dog she had, 
 
 Full of fell ravin p and fierce greediness ; 
 
 A lion's claws, with power and rigour clad, 
 
 To rend and tear whatso she can oppress ; 
 
 A dragon's tail, whose sting without redress 
 
 Full deadly wounds whereso it is empight ,1 
 
 And eagle's wings, for scope and speediness, 
 
 That nothing may escape her reaching might, 
 
 Whereto she ever list to make her hardy flight; 
 
 Much like in foulness and deformity 
 
 Unto that monster, r whom the Theban knight, 
 
 The father of that fatal progeny, 
 
 Made kill herself for very heart's despite 
 
 That he had read her riddle, which no wight 
 
 Could ever loose, but suffered deadly dool" : 
 
 So also did this monster use like sleight 
 
 To many a one which came unto her school, 
 
 Whom she did put to death deceived like a fool. 
 
 The monster, even at her first coming forth, is dis- 
 mayed at the sight of the prince's blazing shield, and 
 would have turned back to hide herself again in her lair 
 if he had not prevented her. She then flies at the shield, 
 and, fiercely seizing hold of it, tries either to rend it 
 to pieces or to rive it out of his hand. Finding it in vain 
 to seek to make her relax her gripe, he takes his 
 sword and with one powerful stroke smites off from her 
 feet her lion's claws. 
 
 With that aloud she gan to bray and yell, 
 And foui blasphemous speeches forth did cast, 
 
 p Ravenousness. q Infixed. 
 
 r The Sphinx. s Sorrow.
 
 254 SPENSER AND 11IS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 And bitter curses, horrible to tell ; 
 That even the temple, wherein she was placed, 
 Did quake to hear, and nigh asunder brast ; 
 Thot with her huge long tail she at him strook, 
 That made him stagger and stand half aghast 
 With trembling joints, as he for terror shook ; 
 Who nought was terrified, but greater courage took. 
 
 As when the mast of some well-timbered hulk 
 Is with the blast of some outrageous storm 
 Blown down, it shakes the bottom of the bulk, 
 And makes her ribs to crack as they were torn ; 
 Whilst still she stands as stonished and forlorn ; 
 So was he stunned with stroke of her huge tail :   
 But, ere that it she back again had borne, 
 He with his sword it strook, that without fail 
 He jointed it, and marred the swinging of her flail. 
 
 The monster now screams out louder than ever, and, 
 rearing herself on her ample wings, throws herself with 
 the whole weight of her body upon him ; but he has had 
 time to interpose his shield between her and his head, and 
 while she is trying to crush him he thrusts his sword 
 into her entrails, and ends the battle. 
 
 Then all the people which beheld that day 
 Gan shout aloud, that unto heaven it rung ; 
 And all the damsels of that town in ray u 
 Came dancing forth, and joyous carols sung : 
 So him they led through all their streets along 
 Crowned with girlands of immortal bays ; 
 And all the vulgar did about them throng 
 To see the man, whose everlasting praise 
 They all were bound to all posterities to raise. 
 
 The story now returns to " noble Artegal," who has 
 also left the court of Mcrcilla, and proceeded on his 
 original enterprise, the deliverance of Irena, and the 
 chastisement of her oppressor Grantorto. He has passed 
 over much way and through many perils, accompanied , 
 as usual, only by his faithful attendant Talus, when he 
 meets an aged man^Journeying atone, and~recognises him 
 to be an old knight named Sir Sergis, by whom Irena 
 
 Then. u Array.
 
 Canto XI.] THE FAIRY QUEEX. 255 
 
 had been attended when he first saw her at Fairy Court. 
 Sir Sergis informs him that Irena still lives, but that she 
 is bound in prison, having been surprised and taken 
 captive by Grantorto, when, at the time that Artegal 
 had promised to meet and fight with the tyrant for trial 
 of her right " at the Salvage Island's side," she had 
 gone thither, in full confidence that her champion would 
 make his appearance. And now Grantorto is about to 
 take her life, having fixed a day by which, if no cham- 
 pion shall present himself to justify her against him in 
 battle, and to prove her innocent, of the crimes with 
 which he charges her, she must die. With his tender 
 sense of justice and honour, Sir Artegal, sorely grieved, 
 reproaches himself that he should have been the cause 
 of drawing the fair lady into all this trouble and peril ; 
 " But witness unto me," he adds, 
 
 ye heavens ! that know 
 
 How clear I am from blame of this upbraid : 
 
 For ye into like thraldom me did throw, 
 
 And kept from complishing the faith which I did owe. 
 
 Having been informed by Sir Sergis that ten days are 
 all the time allowed her to provide a champion, 
 
 " Now turn again," Sir Artegal then said ; 
 " For, if I live till those ten days have end, 
 Assure yourself, sir knight, she shall have aid, 
 Though I this dearest life for her do spend." 
 
 As they ride along, however, they are drawn aside, 
 pressed as they are for time, by a new adventure. They 
 perceive a little way before them a confused rout of 
 people; and, when they approach nearer, they see a 
 knight pursued to and fro by a rude multitude who are 
 trying to overthrow and capture him ; while at some 
 distance another body of them have got " amid their 
 rake-hell hands," and are carrying off, a lady, who is 
 crying bitterly and stretching out her hands to him for 
 aid. The knight battles with his numerous assailants 
 with the highest courage and energy, dealing among 
 them blows on blows, " gainst which the pallid death 
 finds no defence;" but they are too many for all his 
 efforts to drive them oif;
 
 256 SPENSER AND 1US POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 And now they do so sharply him assay, 
 
 That they his shield in pieces battered have, 
 
 And forced him to throw it quite away, 
 
 Fro danger's dread his doubtful life to save ; 
 
 All be that it most safety to him gave. 
 
 And much did magnify his noble name : 
 
 For, from the day that he thus did it leave, 
 
 Amongst all knights he blotted was with blame, 
 
 And counted but a recreant knight with endless shame. 
 
 Artegal and Sir Se rgis now ride up to his assistanc e ; 
 but they too fail to make any impression upon so great a 
 multitude, and are forced to recede, 
 
 until that iron man 
 
 With his huge flail began to lay about ; 
 
 From whose stern presence they diffused ran, 
 
 Life scattered chaff, the which the wind away doth fan. 
 
 The delivered knight now informs them that he is 
 named Burbon, and "'had been well known and of great 
 repute till this misfortune fell upon him, which, he says, 
 all his " former praise hath blemished sore ;" and that 
 the lady is Flourdelis, his own true love, although she 
 has forsaken him — " whether," he adds, 
 
 " withheld from me by wrongful might, 
 
 Or with her own good will, I cannot read aright. 
 
 But sure to me her faith she first did plight 
 
 To be my love, and take me for her lord ; 
 
 Till that a tyrant, which Grantorto hight, 
 
 With golden gifts and many a guileful word 
 
 Enticed her to him for to accord. 
 
 O, who may not with gifts and words be tempted ! 
 
 Sith which she hath me ever since abhorred, 
 
 And to my foe hath guilefully consented : 
 
 Ay me, that ever guile in women was invented !" 
 
 Every reader sees that Burbon is Henry Bourbon of 
 Navarre, or Henry IV. of France, that Flourdelis is 
 ti n; Fieiicli ch i vy u, Llial the Tude multitude are his re- 
 bellious Roman Catholic subjects, and that by his throw- 
 ing away his shield is meant his change of religion, or 
 recantation of Protestantism, inThe year 1593. Spenser 
 very distinctly intimates his own strong feeling upon
 
 Canto XIJ THE FAIEY QT-EEX. 257 
 
 this transaction. Artegal is made immediately to ask 
 Burbon why in his danger and terror he should have 
 thrown away his own good shield ? 
 
 " That is the greatest shame and foulest scorn, 
 Which uuto any knight behappen may, 
 To lose the badge that should his deeds display." 
 And, when Burbon, " blushing half for shame," has 
 made the best excuse that he can, he still rejoins, 
 
 " Certes, sir knight, 
 
 Hard is the case the which ye do complain ; 
 
 Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may light 
 
 That it to such a strait mote you constrain) 
 
 As to abandon that which doth contain 
 
 Your honour's style, that is, your warlike shield. 
 
 All peril ought be less, and less all pain, 
 
 Than loss of fame in disaventrous field : 
 
 Die, rather than do ought that mote dishonour yield !" 
 
 Burbon answers that when time shall serve he may pos- 
 sibly resume again his former shield, and argues that 
 " to temporize is not from truth to swerve." 
 " Fie on such forgery," said Artegal, 
 " Under one hood to shadow faces twain : 
 Knights ought be true, and truth is one in all." 
 
 He consents however to give him his aid in endeavouring 
 to rescue the lady from the crew of peasants in whose 
 hands she still is ; and, chiefly through Talus and his 
 iron flail, this is, with no great difficulty accomplished : — 
 
 The rascal many scon they overthrew ; 
 
 But the two knights themselves their captains did subdue. 
 
 When, however, they get possession of the lady they 
 find her " neither glad nor sorry for their sight." 
 " Yet," it is added, 
 
 — — wondrous fair she was, and richly clad, 
 In royal robes and many jewels dight ; 
 But thatthose villains through their usage bad 
 Them foully rent and shamefully defaced had. 
 
 When Burbon catches her by "her ragged weed," and 
 would embrace her, she starts back in disdain and anger, 
 bids him avaunt, nor will be allured by all he can eitl er 
 sav or offer her; till Artegal addresses her on her extra- 
 
 VOL. U,
 
 258 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 ordinary and unbecoming conduct: — "What foul dis- 
 grace," he says, 
 
 " is this 
 
 To so fair lady, as ye seem in sight, 
 
 To blot your beauty, that unblemished is, 
 
 With so foul blame as breach of faith once plight, 
 
 Or change of love for any world's delight ? 
 
 • • • 
 
 Dearer is love than life, and fame than gold, 
 But dearer than them both your faith once plighted hold. 
 
 " Much," we are told, 
 
 was the lady in her gentle mind 
 
 Abashed at his rebuke, that bit her near ; 
 Ne ought to answer thereunto did find : 
 But, hanging down her head with heavy cheer, 
 Stood long amazed as she amated v were. 
 
 Burhon at. length, without more ado, clasping her in his 
 arms, takes her up upon his steed, and rides off with her, 
 she apparently making no opposition. 
 
 All this while Talus, who, it may be observed, never 
 stops of his own accord when he has got fairly engaged 
 at his favourite work, has been pursuing, scattering, and 
 slaughtering " the rascal many" in his usual tremendous 
 Vtyle ; but Artegal at last calls him o ff, and they resume, 
 along with Sergis, their journey to the sea-coast. 
 
 Canto XII. (43 stanzas). — Spenser shows great art in 
 mamrgrnir his transitions from line to line or stage to 
 stage of his various and involved narrative. He thus 
 winds his way now from Artcgal's last to his next ad- 
 venture : — 
 
 O sacred hunger of ambitious minds, 
 And impotent desire of men to reign ! 
 Whom neither dread of God, that devils binds, 
 Nor laws of men, that commonweals contain, 
 Nor bands of nature, that wild beasts restrain, 
 Can keep from outrage and from doing wrong, 
 Where they may hope a kingdom to obtain : 
 No faith so firm, no trust can be so strong, 
 No love so lasting then, that may enduren long. 
 
 v Frightened.
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN 259 
 
 Witness may Burbon be ; whom all the bands, 
 Which may a knight assure, had surely bound, 
 Until the love of lordship and of lands 
 Made him become most faithless and unsound. 
 
 And witness of the same thing, he adds, let Geryoneo be, 
 by whom we have seen the fair Beige oppressed ; and so, 
 finally, be likewise Grantorto, who is now to occupy out- 
 attention. 
 
 When Artegal and his companions arrive at the sea- 
 coast they find there by good chance a ship ready to put 
 to sea ; and, wind and weather serving, a day's sail 
 carries them across to the opposite shore. Their landing 
 is opposed by a numerous military force ; but that is 
 quickly disposed of: as soon as the water became shallow 
 enough for wading, 
 
 Talus into the sea did forth issue 
 
 Though darts from shore and stones they at him threw ; 
 
 And wading through the waves with stedfast sway, 
 
 Maugre the might of all those troops in view, 
 
 Did win the shore ; whence he them chased away 
 
 And made to fly like doves, whom the eagle doth affray. 
 
 Artegal and Sergis now land, and set forward for a town 
 which they see at a little distance. Meanwhile the 
 fugitives have carried the news of their arrival to Gran- 
 torto, who thereupon has put himselt at the bead of all 
 his remaining forces, and come forth, with the hope of 
 being able to attack them before they have left the 
 shore ; the tyrant and his host, on meeting the two 
 knights, charge them with great fierceness ; 
 
 But Talus sternly did upon them set, 
 
 And brushed and battered them without remorse, 
 
 That on the ground he left full many a corse ; 
 
 Ne any able was him to withstand, 
 
 But he them overthrew both man and horse, 
 
 That they lay scattered over all the land, 
 
 As thick as doth the seed after the sower's hand. 
 
 As usual, the iron man goes on scattering and killing 
 till he is stopped by Artegal ; who then, a truce having 
 been agreed to, sends a herald to Grantorto desiring him
 
 260 SPEXSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 Jo appoint a day when they may try the right of fair 
 Irena's cause in single combat. Grantorto, very glad to 
 have an end put to the slaughter of his people before 
 they are every man of them slain, appoints the following 
 morning. Sir Artegal pitches his tent for the night on 
 the upei'J "plain, and is well supplied with all needful 
 accommodations by the exertions of old Sergis among 
 persons whom he knows to be secret friends of Irena, 
 although the tyrant has strictly commanded that none 
 
 should dare to aftbrd Ii i m_an y entertai nment . Upton 
 
 takes S ergis to be Sir "Francis" \\ alsinglianf>, for what 
 reason does not appear: he is more probably some ad- 
 viser by whom Lord Grey was assisted while he held 
 the government of Ireland. 
 
 All this while no one has brought the tidings of Ar- 
 tegal 's arrival to Irena ; and when the morning comes, 
 she believes that her life's last hour has come. She rises 
 and attires herself in garments tit for such a day, and is 
 brought forth, with heavy countenance and heavier 
 heart, to receive, as she imagines, the doom that she 
 must die. But, when, on coming to the place, she sees 
 Sir Artegal " in bataiious array waiting his foe," new 
 life springs up within her : — 
 
 Like as a tender rose in open plain, 
 
 That with untimely drought nigh withered was, 
 
 And hung the head, soon as few drops of rain 
 
 Thereon distil and dew her dainty face, 
 
 Gins to look up, and with fresh wonted grace 
 
 Dispreads the glory of her leaves gay ; 
 
 Such was Irena's countenance, such her case, 
 
 When Artegal she saw in that array, 
 
 There waiting for the tyrant till it was fair day. 
 
 He appears at length and marches into the field with 
 haughty and fearless gait ; 
 
 All armed in a coat of iron plate 
 
 Of great defence to ward the deadly fear, 
 
 And on his head a steel-cap he did wear 
 
 Of colour rusty-brown, but sure and strong; 
 
 And in his hand an huge pole-axe did bear, 
 
 Whose steel was iron-studded, but not long, 
 
 With which he wont to fight, to justify his wrong.
 
 Canto XII.] THK FAIRY QUEEN". 261 
 
 Of stature huge and hideous he was, 
 
 Like to a giant for his monstrous height, 
 
 And did in strength most sorts of men surpass, 
 
 Ne ever any found his match in might ; 
 
 Thereto he had great skill in single fight : 
 
 His face was ugly and his countenance stern, 
 
 That could have frayed one with the very sigh., 
 
 And gaped like a gulf when he did gern ; w 
 
 That whether man or monster one could scarce discern. 
 
 Grantorto is very evidently the genius of the Irish 
 reb ellion of T5S0 — au allegorical representation of the 
 spirit of ropery as animating the insu'rgenl or native 
 party 7 ! In his View eft lie State of Ireland Spenser de- 
 scribes the Galloglass, or Irish foot-soldier, as "armed 
 in a long shirt of mail down to the calf of his leg, with 
 a long broad axe in his hand," much as Grantorto is 
 pictured here. Although he is also, as we have seen, 
 made to be the seducer of France from Henry of Navarre, 
 it does not seem to be ne~eessary to adopt Upton's notion 
 that we have here again King Philip of Spain, as we 
 certainly have in Geryoneo, and as we probably also have 
 in the Soldan. 
 
 Artegal suffers severely at first from the storm of blows 
 with which the tyrant assails him, and, although he 
 adroitly shuns as many of them as he can, and often 
 stoops to escape them — 
 
 No shame to stoop, one's head more high to rear ; 
 
 And, much to gain, a little for to yield : 
 
 So stoutest knights doen oftentimes in field — 
 
 yet the heavy and nimbly wielded iron axe, cleaving his 
 armour, gashes his flesh in numerous places. He at la st 
 manages, however, when the felon has raised his arm 
 for a more than usually ponderous stroke, to plunge his 
 sword in to his side , when a torrent of Wood gushes out 
 from the wound, and Grantorto brays and yells tre- 
 mendously. At the same time he catches the intended 
 blow of the battle-axe on his shield, from which the 
 giant then strives in vain to extricate his weapon, drag- 
 ging about the knight in all directions as he tugs at it ; 
 
 " Grin in rage.
 
 262 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Hook V. 
 
 till at last Artcgal gives him up his shield, and, flying at 
 his head with his good sword, Chrysaor (the poet has 
 forgotten that it was long ago broken to pieces by Queen 
 Radigund), first comes down upon him with a blow that 
 makes all his huge frame stagger, and, then following 
 that up with a rapid succession of others, at last compels 
 him to bite the earth ; — 
 
 Whom when he saw prostrated on the plaiu, 
 He lightly reft his head to ease him of his pain. 
 
 The people all shout for joy ; and, falling at fair Irena's 
 feet, adore her "as their true liege and princess na- 
 tural ;"— 
 
 And eke her champion's glory sounded over all. 
 
 Artegal then, leading her "unto the palace where their 
 kings did reign," there establishes her in the peaceful 
 possession of her kingdom. After this he proceeds to 
 punish with severity all such as had either openly or se- 
 cretly taken part with the late tyrant ; the effect of which 
 was that soon there was not an individual in the country 
 who, so long as this good knight continued in the adminis- 
 tration of Irena's affairs, durst once have disobeyed her. 
 
 During which time that he did there remain, 
 His study was true justice how to deal, 
 And day and night employed his busy pain 
 How to reform that ragged commonweal : 
 And that same iron man, which could reveal 
 All hidden crimes, through all that realm he sent 
 To search out those that used to rob and steal, 
 Or did rebel gainst lawful government ; 
 On whom he did inflict most grievous punishment. 
 
 This is ex actly the same accoun t that Spenser gives of 
 the government ot his patron .Lord Grey in his prose 
 tract on the State ot Ireland. It is known, however, 
 that the severity of the Lord Deputy, which the poet 
 so warmly admires and defends, exposed him after his 
 return to England to great obloquy. This sufficiently 
 explains the remarkable passage that follows. Artegal, 
 we are told, was " through occasion" called away to 
 Fairy Court before he could thoroughly accomplish his 
 plans of reform ; so
 
 Canto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 2G3 
 
 that of necessity 
 
 His course of justice he was forced to stay, 
 And Talus to revoke from the right way, 
 In which he was that realm for to redress : 
 But envy's cloud still dimmeth virtue's ray ! 
 So, having freed Irena from distress, 
 He took his leave of her there left in heaviness. 
 
 He has scarcely arrived in that other land from which 
 he had crossed over to the kingdom of Irena when he 
 meets, sitting together by the wayside, two foul, ill- 
 favoured hags, in ragged and tattered garments, further 
 painted at full length in this powerful style: — 
 
 The one of them, that elder did appear, 
 
 With her dull eyes did seem to look askew, 
 
 That her mis-shape much helped ; and her foul hair 
 
 Hung loose and loathsomely ; thereto her hue 
 
 Was wan and lean, that all her teeth arew x 
 
 And all her bones might through her cheeks be read ; 
 
 Her lips were, like raw leather, pale and blue : 
 
 And, as she spake, therewith she slavered ; 
 
 Yet spake she seldom ; but thought more, the less she 
 
 said: 
 Her hands were foul and dirty, never washed 
 In all her life, with long nails over-raught 
 Like puttock'sy claws; with the one of vhich she 
 
 scratched 
 Her cursed head, although it itched naught ; 
 The other held a snake with venom fraught, 
 On which she fed and gnawed hungrily, 
 As if that long she had not eaten aught ; 
 That round about her jaws one might descry 
 The bloody gore and poison dropping loathsomely. 
 Her name was Envy, knowen well thereby : 
 Whose nature is to grieve and grudge at all 
 That ever she sees done praiseworthily ; 
 Whose sight to her is greatest cross may fall, 
 And vexeth so, that makes her eat her gall : 
 For, when she wanteth other thing to eat, 
 She feeds on her own maw unnatural, 
 And of h?r own foul entrails makes her meat: 
 Meat fit for such a monster's monsterous dieat ; 
 
 " In a row. * Kites. z That may fall.
 
 264 SPENSER AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 And, if she happed of any good to hear, 
 
 That had to any happily a betid, 
 
 Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and tear 
 
 Her flesh for fellness, -which she inward hid ; 
 
 But if she heard of ill that any did, 
 
 Or harm that any had, then would she make 
 
 Great cheer, like one unto a banquet bid ; 
 
 And in another's loss great pleasure take, 
 
 As she had got thereby and gained a great stake. 
 
 This, it will be observed, i s feminine Envy. The 
 description maybe compared with that of Lucifera's male 
 counsellor of the same name in the Fourth Canto of the 
 First Book. The second hag is now brought forward 
 into the same magic'ilg-hT:^^" 
 
 The other nothing better was than she : 
 
 Agreeing in bad will and cankered kind, 
 
 But in bad manner they did disagree : 
 
 For whatso Envy good or bad did find 
 
 She did conceal, and murder her own mind ; 
 
 But this, whatever evil she conceived, 
 
 Did spread abroad and throw in the open wind : 
 
 Yet this in all her words might be perceived, 
 
 That all she sought was men's good name to have bereaved. 
 
 For, whatsoever good by any said 
 
 Or done she heard, she would straightways invent 
 
 How to deprave or slanderously upbraid, 
 
 Or to misconstrue of a man's intent, 
 
 And turn to ill the thing that well was meant : 
 
 Therefore she used often to resort 
 
 To common haunts, and companies frequent, 
 
 To hark what any one did good report, 
 
 To blot the same with blame, or wrest in wicked sort : 
 
 And, if that any ill she heard of any, 
 
 She would it eke, and make much worse by telling, 
 
 And take great joy to publish it to many : 
 
 That every matter worse was for her melling : 
 
 Her nam e was hight Detraction, and her dwelling 
 
 \v as near to li.nvy, even ner neighbour next ; 
 
 A wicked hag, and Envy self excelling 
 
 In mischief; for herself she only vexed: 
 
 But this same both herself and others eke perplexed. 
 
 a Haply.
 
 Lanto XII.] THE FAIRY QUEEN. 265 
 
 Her face "was ugly, and her mouth distort, 
 
 Foaming with poison round about her gills, 
 
 In which her cursed tongue, full sharp and short, 
 
 Appeared like aspe's sting, that closely kills, 
 
 Or cruelly does wound whomso she wills ; 
 
 A distaff in her other hand she had, 
 
 Upon the which she little spins, but spills ; 
 
 And fains to weave false tales and leasings bad, 
 
 To throw amongst the good which others had disprad. 
 
 The two have now combined against Sir Artegal, and, 
 as his "mortal foes, lie in wait to do him what mischief 
 they can, all for having delivered Irena from their 
 snares. 
 
 Besides, unto themselves they gotten had 
 
 A monster which the Blatant Bea st men call, 
 
 A dreadful fiend of gods and men'ydrad, 
 
 Whom they by sleights allured and to their purpose lad. 
 
 Of the Blatant Beast, of whom we shall hear more in \£ 
 
 the next Book, it will be sufficient to say for the present 
 that it may be understood to typify what in modern times 
 is commonly designated, by a more respectful form of 
 words, Public Opinion. 
 
 When Sir Artegal comes up, the two hags fall to 
 howling like two shepherd's curs when a wolf has got 
 among their flocks ; 
 
 And Envy first, as she that first him eyed, 
 
 Towards him runs, and, with rude flaring locks. 
 
 About her ears does beat her breast and forehead knocks. 
 
 Then from her mouth the gobbet b she does take, 
 
 The which whylere she was so greedily 
 
 Devouring, even that half-gnawen snake, 
 
 And at him throws it most despitefully : 
 
 The cursed serpent, though she hungrily 
 
 Erst chawed thereon, yet was not all so dead, 
 
 But that some life remained secretly ; 
 
 And, as he passed afore withouten dread, 
 
 Bit him behind, that long the mark was to be read. 
 
 [In other words, Grey long experienced the effects of 
 the malice with which he was now attacked.] 
 
 Then the other hag, the account proceeds, coming bc- 
 
 v01 - "• » Mouthful. T
 
 * 
 
 266 SrENSEK AND HIS POETRY. [Book V. 
 
 hind him, began to revile him and rail upon him, charg- 
 ing him with having, both by abuse of his power and by 
 unmanly guile, not only tarnished his own honour, but 
 stained that bright sword, intrusted to him to be used as 
 the sword of justice, in much innocent blood. Gran- 
 torto, too, she asserted, he had treacherously surprised, 
 and foully put to death. These were the very charges 
 brought against Grey for the manner in which he had 
 suppressed the Earl of Desmond's rebellion. 
 
 Thereto the Blatant Beast, by them set on, 
 At him began aloud to bark and bay 
 With bitter rage and fell contention ; 
 That all the woods and rocks nigh to that way 
 ' Began to quake and tremble with dismay ; 
 And all the air rebellowed again ; 
 So dreadfully his hundred tongues did bray : 
 And evermore those hags themselves did pain, 
 To sharpen him, and their own cursed tongues did strain. 
 
 And, still among, most bitter words they spake, 
 
 Most shameful, most unrighteous, most untrue, 
 
 That they the mildest man alive would make 
 
 Forget his patience, and yield vengeance due 
 
 To her, that so false slanders at him threw : 
 
 And, more to make them pierce and wound more deep, 
 
 She with the sting which in her vile tongue grew 
 
 Did sharpen them, and in fresh poison steep : 
 
 Yet he passed on, and seemed of them to take no keep. 
 
 But Talus, hearing her so lewdly rail 
 
 And speak so ill of him that well deserved, 
 
 Would her have chastised with his iron flail, 
 
 If her Sir Artegal had not preserved, 
 
 And him forbidden, who his hest observed : 
 
 So much the more at him still did she scold, 
 
 And stones did cast ; yet he for nought would swerve 
 
 From his right course, but still the way did hold 
 
 To Fairy Court ; where what him fell shall else-be told. 
 
 And so ends the Canto and the Book. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
 LOUDCN; WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET. 
 
 X
 
 ■"■» or-T"? 
 
 QTT »^^n\i* -^p 4|JY 
 
 -A 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 a, 
 
 SK 

 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 See Spine for 
 Barcode Number
 
 ill 
 
 II